【英语长篇连载】世界著名小说---暮光之城:暮色 Twilight[中英双语]第一册_派派后花园

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[Novel] 【英语长篇连载】世界著名小说---暮光之城:暮色 Twilight[中英双语]第一册

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Bella Swan moves from Phoenix, Arizona to live with her father in Forks,Washington to allow her mother to travel with her new husband, a minorleague baseball player. After moving to Forks, Bella finds herselfinvoluntarily drawn to a mysterious, handsome boy, Edward Cullen. Sheeventually learns that he is a member of a vampire family who drinksanimal blood rather than human. Edward and Bella fall in love, butJames, a sadistic vampire from another vampire coven, is drawn to huntdown Bella. Edward and the other Cullens defend Bella. She escapes toPhoenix, Arizona, where she is tricked into confronting James, who triesto kill her. She is seriously wounded, but Edward rescues her and theyreturn to Forks, having killed James.

在母亲与一名棒球小联盟的运动员再婚后,17岁的Bella Swan搬到华盛顿州的福克斯小镇与父亲同住。在新的高校里,Bella跟其他同学很快混熟,但她却对Cullen家族的神秘与独处感到好奇。在上学第一天的生物课上,Bella便与EdwardCullen同桌。Edward似乎对Bella心存反感,这令Bella感到十分疑惑。几天后,他们正式互相认识,Bella放学时在校园的停车场上差点被一辆小货车撞到,Edward以难以置信的速度从几米外跑到了Bella身边,并以单手挡住了货车。
经过一番仔细的研究后,Bella发现Edward其实是一名吸血鬼,而且拥有特殊的读心术能力〈可是听不见贝拉的心,贝拉是唯一的例外〉了解后知道他只吸食动物的血液。后来,他们双双堕入了爱河,Edward更将Bella带回家和Edward家人见面。Edward的家人有Carlisle Cullen、Esme Cullen、Alice Cullen、Jasper Cullen、EmmettCullen和Rosalie Hale。在一次家庭的棒球活动,他们便遇到家族的敌人 -吸血鬼猎人James、Victoria、Laurent这三名吸血鬼。Edward因为奋力保护Bella而很快吸引了吸血鬼猎人James的注意,并令他决意猎杀Bella作为消遣。
Edward与其家人冒着生命危险去保护Bella,但James终于在Bella藏身的地方找到了她。并声称绑架了Bella的母亲而将Bella引入圈套。James袭击Bella,并咬伤了她的手腕;不过Edward和其家人在Bella被杀前及时赶到,阻止并解决了James。
James死后,Edward挣扎要把Bella手腕里的毒液吸出来,以防她变成吸血鬼,但又怕自己不能停下来。随后,严重受伤的Bella被送往医院。Bella苏醒后,Edward为免Bella再受到伤害而提出离开,但Bella深爱Edward,坚持不肯放弃。
回到福克斯后,Bella与Edward出席了学校的舞会。二人于花园舞池跳舞时,Bella向Edward提出她想成为吸血鬼的愿望后,Edward假意吸取Bella的血液,其实Edward深爱Bella,根本不想她变成吸血鬼,只想跟她继续相爱。
同时,Victoria准备向Cullen家族报复,为电影续集埋下伏线。


作者简介
斯蒂芬妮·梅尔[1],1973年出生于美国康涅狄格州,毕业于杨伯翰大学,主修英国文学。她本是一位有三个孩子的全职主妇,没有丝毫的写作经验。2003年的一天,她做了一个改变她命运的梦:一位少女和一个英俊迷人的男子坐在阳光明媚的草地上谈情说爱。这个梦最终成了她第一部小说《暮色》中的一个章节。《暮色》出版后,梅尔又写了《新月》、《月食》、《破晓》,被称为“暮光之城”系列。该系列以贝拉和爱德华一对苦命鸳鸯的情感纠葛为主线,融合了,吸血鬼传说、狼人故事、校园生活、恐怖悬念、喜剧冒险等各种吸引眼球的元素,而凄美动人的爱情则是全书“最强烈的情绪”。用作者自己的偶像作家奥森·斯考特·卡德的话说:“爱情只是书中的一小部分,但却是人生的指引者。”斯蒂芬妮·梅尔在她年轻的事业生涯里业已取得了非凡的成就,随着新作的不断推出,她将进一步确立其出版界一流畅销书作家的地位。2008年5月,斯蒂芬妮·梅尔被《时代》周刊评为全球百名最具影响力人物之一。谈到未来的写作计划,梅尔表示,还有很多创作的灵感等待她去挖掘。她说:“我可能写一部关于美人鱼的书,因为那是我少女时代最感兴趣的东西。”


估计很多人都看过这一系列的电影(或者只是一部),或者听过~
去年电影最后一部也已经播完,今天凑巧看到 就决定来发表~

希望大家会喜欢~~(≧▽≦)/~
祝大家享受阅读的过程~

[ 此帖被伊墨君在2013-02-27 16:17重新编辑 ]
本帖最近评分记录: 2 条评分 派派币 +10

叶子风清

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举报 只看该作者 12楼  发表于: 2013-03-24 0
楼主,能不能将电子版的发给我啊  [email protected]  谢过
@十夜@

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人生路上,每个人都是过客……
举报 只看该作者 11楼  发表于: 2013-03-08 0
是一部不错的小说,不过看了电影版的之后,有点儿失望,尤其是看了暮光之城第四部·下,更加无语……果然再好的小说,有时候会被影视给灭杀……还是看小说版的,才不会破坏自己美好的想象……

楼主留言:

小说的话,我就觉得第一部好看 越后面越垃圾 ╮(╯▽╰)╭ 所以还是看小说好昂~

数钱数到手抽筋,睡觉睡到人变傻,看书看到眼发黑。
伊墨君

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举报 只看该作者 10楼  发表于: 2013-03-07 0
Chapter 10
   It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me thatwassure last night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, or commonsense. Iclung to the parts I couldn't have imagined — like his smell. Iwas sureI could never have dreamed that up on my own.
  It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. He hadnoreason not to be in school today. I dressed in my heavyclothes,remembering I didn't have a jacket. Further proof that my memorywas real.
  When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again — I was running laterthanI'd realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased itdownwith milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door.
  Hopefully the rain would hold off until I could find Jessica.
  It was unusually foggy; the air was almost smoky with it. The mistwasice cold where it clung to the exposed skin on my face and neck.Icouldn't wait to get the heat going in my truck. It was such a thickfogthat I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was acarin it: a silver car. My heart thudded, stuttered, and then pickedupagain in double time.
  I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling thedoor open for me.
  "Do you want to ride with me today?" he asked, amused by myexpression ashe caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertaintyin his voice.
  He was really giving me a choice — I was free to refuse, and part of himhoped for that. It was a vain hope.
  "Yes, thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. As Istepped intothe warm car, I noticed his tan jacket was slung over theheadrest of thepassenger seat. The door closed behind me, and, soonerthan should bepossible, he was sitting next to me, starting the car.
  "I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sickorsomething." His voice was guarded. I noticed that he wore nojackethimself, just a light gray knit V-neck shirt with long sleeves.Again,the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was acolossaltribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body.
  "I'm not quite that delicate," I said, but I pulled the jacket ontomylap, pushing my arms through the too-long sleeves, curious to see ifthescent could possibly be as good as I remembered. It was better.
  "Aren't you?" he contradicted in a voice so low I wasn't sure if he meantfor me to hear.
  We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast,feelingawkward. I was, at least. Last night all the walls were down…almost all.
  I didn't know if we were still being as candid today. It left metongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.
  He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?""Do my questions bother you?" I asked, relieved.
  "Not as much as your reactions do." He looked like he was joking, but Icouldn't be sure.
  I frowned. "Do I react badly?""No, that's the problem. You take everything so coolly — it's unnatural.
  It makes me wonder what you're really thinking.""I always tell you what I'm really thinking.""You edit," he accused.
  "Not very much.""Enough to drive me insane.""You don't want to hearit," I mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as thewords were out, Iregretted them. The pain in my voice was very faint; Icould only hope hehadn't noticed it.
  He didn't respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. Hisface wasunreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Somethingoccurred tome belatedly.
  "Where's the rest of your family?" I asked — more than glad to bealonewith him, but remembering that his car was usually full.
  "They took Rosalie's car." He shrugged as he parked next to aglossy redconvertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?""Um,wow," I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?""Like Isaid, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in.""You don't succeed." Ilaughed and shook my head as we got out of thecar. I wasn't lateanymore; his lunatic driving had gotten me to schoolin plenty of time."So why did Rosalie drive today if it's moreconspicuous?""Hadn't younoticed? I'm breaking all the rules now." He met me at thefront of thecar, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus.
  I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but Iwas afraid he wouldn't like me to.
  "Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered aloud. "Ifyou'relooking for privacy?""An indulgence," he admitted with an impishsmile. "We all like to drivefast.""Figures," I muttered under my breath.
  Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica waswaiting,her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, blessher, wasmy jacket.
  "Hey, Jessica," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks forremembering." She handed me my jacket without speaking.
  "Good morning, Jessica," Edward said politely. It wasn't really hisfaultthat his voice was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capableof.
  "Er… hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather herjumbledthoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me ameaningful look,and I suppressed a sigh. What on earth was I going totell her?
  "Yeah, I'll see you then."She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.
  "What are you going to tell her?" Edward murmured.
  "Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I hissed.
  "I can't," he said, startled. Then understanding brightened his eyes.
  "However, I can read hers — she'll be waiting to ambush you inclass."I groaned as I pulled off his jacket and handed it to him,replacing itwith my own. He folded it over his arm.
  "So what are you going to tell her?""A little help?" I pleaded."What does she want to know?"He shook his head, grinning wickedly."That's not fair.""No, you not sharing what you know — now that's notfair."He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside thedoor tomy first class.
  "She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know howyou feel about me," he finally said.
  "Yikes. What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression very innocent.
  People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring, but I wasbarely aware of them.
  "Hmmm." He paused to catch a stray lock of hair that was escapingthetwist on my neck and wound it back into place. My heartsplutteredhyperactively. "I suppose you could say yes to the first… ifyou don'tmind — it's easier than any other explanation.""I don't mind," Isaid in a faint voice.
  "And as for her other question… well, I'll be listening to heartheanswer to that one myself." One side of his mouth pulled up intomyfavorite uneven smile. I couldn't catch my breath soon enough torespondto that remark. He turned and walked away.
  "I'll see you at lunch," he called over his shoulder. Three peoplewalking in the door stopped to stare at me.
  I hurried into class, flushed and irritated. He was such a cheater.Now Iwas even more worried about what I was going to say to Jessica. Isat inmy usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation.
  "Morning, Bella," Mike said from the seat next to me. I looked upto seean odd, almost resigned look on his face. "How was PortAngeles?""It was…" There was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," Ifinishedlamely. "Jessica got a really cute dress.""Did she say anythingabout Monday night?" he asked, his eyesbrightening. I smiled at the turnthe conversation had taken.
  "She said she had a really good time," I assured him.
  "She did?" he said eagerly.
  "Most definitely."Mr. Mason called the class to order then, askingus to turn in ourpapers. English and then Government passed in a blur,while I worriedabout how to explain things to Jessica and agonized overwhether Edwardwould really be listening to what I said through themedium of Jess'sthoughts. How very inconvenient his little talent couldbe — when itwasn't saving my life.
  The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but thedaywas still dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.
  Edward was right, of course. When I walked into Trig Jessica wassittingin the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. Ireluctantlywent to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would bebetter to getit over with as soon as possible.
  "Tell me everything!" she commanded before I was in the seat.
  "What do you want to know?" I hedged.
  "What happened last night?""He bought me dinner, and then he droveme home."She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "Howdid you gethome so fast?""He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." Ihoped he heard that.
  "Was it like a date — did you tell him to meet you there?"I hadn'tthought of that. "No — I was very surprised to see him there."Her lipspuckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in myvoice.
  "But he picked you up for school today?" she probed.
  "Yes — that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket lastnight," I explained.
  "So are you going out again?""He offered to drive me to SeattleSaturday because he thinks toy truckisn't up to it — does thatcount?""Yes." She nodded.
  "Well, then, yes.""W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into threesyllables. "Edward Cullen.""I know," I agreed. "Wow" didn't even coverit.
  "Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic.
  "Has he kissed you?""No," I mumbled. "It's not like that."She looked disappointed. I'm sure I did, too.
  "Do you think Saturday… ?" She raised her eyebrows.
  "I really doubt it." The discontent in my voice was poorly disguised.
  "What did you talk about?" She pushed for more information in a whisper.
  Class had started but Mr. Varner wasn't paying close attention and weweren't the only ones still talking.
  "I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff," I whispered back. "We talkedaboutthe English essay a little." A very, very little. I think hementioned itin passing.
  "Please, Bella," she begged. "Give me some details.""Well… okay,I've got one. You should have seen the waitress flirtingwith him — itwas over the top. But he didn't pay any attention to her atall." Let himmake what he could of that.
  "That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was she pretty?""Very — andprobably nineteen or twenty.""Even better. He must like you.""I thinkso, but it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic," I threw infor hisbenefit, sighing.
  "I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed.
  "Why?" I was shocked, but she didn't understand my reaction.
  "He's so… intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." Shemade aface, probably remembering this morning or last night, when he'dturnedthe overwhelming force of his eyes on her.
  "I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him," I admitted.
  "Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Jessica shrugged as if thisexcused any flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did.
  "There's a lot more to him than that.""Really? Like what?"I wished Ihad let it go. Almost as much as I was hoping he'd beenkidding aboutlistening in.
  "I can't explain it right… but he's even more unbelievable behindtheface." The vampire who wanted to be good — who ran around savingpeople'slives so he wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the front ofthe room.
  "Is that possible?" She giggled.
  I ignored her, trying to look like I was paying attention to Mr. Varner.
  "So you like him, then?" She wasn't about to give up.
  "Yes," I said curtly.
  "I mean, do you really like him?" she urged.
  "Yes," I said again, blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register inher thoughts.
  She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How much do youlikehim?""Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But Idon't see howI can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into thenext.
  Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer.
  She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, andas soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action.
  "In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," Itold her.
  "You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.
  "I told him you said you had a lot of fun — he lookedpleased.""Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"We spentthe rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most ofSpanishon a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn'thavehelped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried aboutthesubject returning to me.
  And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat,shovingmy books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must havetippedJessica off.
  "You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.
  "I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappearinconveniently again.
  But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall—looking more like a Greek god than anyone had a right to — Edwardwaswaiting for me. Jessica took one look, rolled her eyes, and departed.
  "See you later, Bella." Her voice was thick with implications. I mighthave to turn off the ringer on the phone.
  "Hello." His voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had beenlistening, it was obvious.
  "Hi."I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak —bidinghis time, I presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria.Walkingwith Edward through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like myfirstday here; everyone stared.
  He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though hiseyesreturned to my face every few seconds, their expression speculative.Itseemed to me that irritation was winning out over amusement asthedominant emotion in his face. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper onmyjacket.
  He stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.
  "What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.
  "Half is for me, of course."I raised one eyebrow.
  He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before.From theother end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us inamazementas we sat across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious.
  "Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward me.
  "I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around inmyhands, "what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?""You'realways curious." He grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at me,holdingmy eyes as he lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, anddeliberatelybit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. Iwatched, eyeswide.
  "If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he askedcondescendingly.
  I wrinkled my nose. "I did once… on a dare," I admitted. "It wasn'tsobad."He laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over myshoulderseemed to catch his attention.
  "Jessica's analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down foryoulater." He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention ofJessicabrought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.
  I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowinghe was about to start.
  "So the waitress was pretty, was she?" he asked casually.
  "You really didn't notice?""No. I wasn't paying attention. I had alot on my mind.""Poor girl." I could afford to be generous now.
  "Something you said to Jessica… well, it bothers me." He refused tobedistracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under hislasheswith troubled eyes.
  "I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know whatthey say about eavesdropners," I reminded him.
  "I warned you I would be listening.""And I warned you that youdidn't want to know everything I was thinking.""You did," he agreed, buthis voice was still rough. "You aren'tprecisely right, though. I dowant to know what you're thinking —everything. I just wish… that youwouldn't be thinking some things."I scowled. "That's quite adistinction.""But that's not really the point at the moment.""Then whatis?" We were inclined toward each other across the table now.
  He had his large white hands folded under his chin; I leanedforward, myright hand cupped around my neck. I had to remind myself thatwe were ina crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us.It was tooeasy to get wrapped up in our own private, tense littlebubble.
  "Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?"hemurmured, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyespiercing.
  I tried to remember how to exhale. I had to look away before it came backto me.
  "You're doing it again," I muttered.
  His eyes opened wide with surprise. "What?""Dazzling me," I admitted, trying to concentrate as I looked back at him.
  "Oh." He frowned.
  "It's not your fault," I sighed. "You can't help it.""Are you goingto answer the question?"I looked down. "Yes.""Yes, you are going toanswer, or yes, you really think that?" He wasirritated again.
  "Yes, I really think that." I kept my eyes down on the table, myeyestracing the pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the laminate.Thesilence dragged on. I stubbornly refused to be the first to break itthistime, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at hisexpression.
  Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "You're wrong."I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.
  "You can't know that," I disagreed in a whisper. I shook my headindoubt, though my heart throbbed at his words and I wanted so badlytobelieve them.
  "What makes you think so?" His liquid topaz eyes were penetrating—trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind.
  I stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of his face,to findsome way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see himgettingimpatient; frustrated by my silence, he started to scowl. Ilifted myhand from my neck, and held up one finger.
  "Let me think," I insisted. His expression cleared, now that hewassatisfied that I was planning to answer. I dropped my hand to thetable,moving my left hand so that my palms were pressed together. Istared atmy hands, twisting and untwisting my fingers, as I finallyspoke.
  "Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't besure— I don't know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems likeyou'retrying to say goodbye when you're saying something else." That wasthebest I could sum up the sensation of anguish that his wordstriggered inme at times.
  "Perceptive," he whispered. And there was the anguish again,surfacing ashe confirmed my fear. "That's exactly why you're wrong,though," he beganto explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do youmean, 'the obvious'?""Well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as he wasalready staring. "I'mabsolutely ordinary — well, except for bad thingslike all the near-deathexperiences and being so clumsy that I'm almostdisabled. And look atyou." I waved my hand toward him and all hisbewildering perfection.
  His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyestook ona knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know.I'lladmit you're dead-on about the bad things," he chuckled blackly,"but youdidn't hear what every human male in this school was thinking onyourfirst day."I blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" I mumbledto myself.
  "Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary."Myembarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look thatcameinto his eyes when he said this. I quickly reminded him of myoriginalargument.
  "But I'm not saying goodbye," I pointed out.
  "Don't you see? That's what proves me right. I care the most,because ifI can do it" — he shook his head, seeming to struggle with thethought —"if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself tokeep fromhurting you, to keep you safe."I glared. "And you don't think Iwould do the same?""You'd never have to make the choice."Abruptly, hisunpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous,devastating smilerearranged his features. "Of course, keeping you safeis beginning tofeel like a full-time occupation that requires myconstant presence.""Noone has tried to do away with me today," I reminded him, grateful forthelighter subject. I didn't want him to talk about goodbyes anymore. IfIhad to, I supposed I could purposefully put myself in danger to keephimclose… I banished that thought before his quick eyes read it on myface.That idea would definitely get me in trouble.
  "Yet," he added.
  "Yet," I agreed; I would have argued, but now I wanted him to beexpecting disasters.
  "I have another question for you." His face was still casual.
  "Shoot.""Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or wasthat just anexcuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"I madea face at the memory. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for theTylerthing yet," I warned him. "It's your fault that he's deludedhimself intothinking I'm going to prom with him.""Oh, he would have found a chanceto ask you without me — I just reallywanted to watch your face," hechuckled, I would have been angrier if hislaughter wasn't sofascinating. "If I'd asked you, would you have turnedme down?" he asked,still laughing to himself.
  "Probably not," I admitted. "But I would have canceled later —faked anillness or a sprained ankle."He was puzzled. "Why would you dothat?"I shook my head sadly. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but Iwouldhave thought you would understand.""Are you referring to the factthat you can't walk across a flat, stablesurface without findingsomething to trip over?""Obviously.""That wouldn't be a problem." He wasvery confident. "It's all in theleading." He could see that I was aboutto protest, and he cut me off.
  "But you never told me — are you resolved on going to Seattle, ordo youmind if we do something different?"As long as the "we" part wasin, I didn't care about anything else.
  "I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favor toask."He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-endedquestion.
  "What?""Can I drive?"He frowned. "Why?""Well, mostly because when Itold Charlie I was going to Seattle, hespecifically asked if I wasgoing alone and, at the time, I was. If heasked again, I probablywouldn't lie, but I don't think he will askagain, and leaving my truckat home would just bring up the subjectunnecessarily. And also, becauseyour driving frightens me."He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things aboutme that could frighten you,you worry about my driving." He shook hishead in disgust, but then hiseyes were serious again. "Won't you want totell your father that you'respending the day with me?" There was anundercurrent to his question thatI didn't understand.
  "With Charlie, less is always more." I was definite about that."Whereare we going, anyway?""The weather will be nice, so I'll bestaying out of the public eye… andyou can stay with me, if you'd liketo." Again, he was leaving the choiceup to me.
  "And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" I asked, excited bythe idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.
  "Yes." He smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be…alonewith me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. Ishudderto think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."I wasmiffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — justinpopulation. In physical size —""But apparently," he interrupted me,"your number wasn't up in Phoenix.
  So I'd rather you stayed near me." His eyes did that unfair smolderingthing again.
  I couldn't argue, with the eyes or the motivation, and it was amootpoint anyway. "As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you.""Iknow," he sighed, brooding. "You should tell Charlie, though.""Why inthe world would I do that?"His eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give mesome small incentive to bringyou back."I gulped. But, after a moment ofthought, I was sure. "I think I'll takemy chances."He exhaled angrily,and looked away.
  "Let's talk about something else," I suggested.
  "What do you want to talk about?" he asked. He was still annoyed.
  I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone'shearing. AsI cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of hissister, Alice,staring at me. The others were looking at Edward. I lookedaway swiftly,back to him, and I. asked the first thing that came tomind.
  "Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt?Charliesaid it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."He staredat me as if I was missing something very obvious.
  "Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," Iadded sternly, to hide my shock.
  "If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," heinformed me.
  He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.
  "Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.
  "Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." His voice was still offhand, buthis eyeswere scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.
  "Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to lookdown. Ichewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without lookingup.
  "So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze.
  "What's your favorite?"He raised an eyebrow and the corners of hismouth turned down indisapproval. "Mountain lion.""Ah," I said in apolitely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.
  "Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to becarefulnot to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try tofocuson areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far awayas weneed. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do,butwhere's the fun in that?" He smiled teasingly.
  "Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of pizza.
  "Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season — they're justcoming outof hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at somerememberedjoke.
  "Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.
  He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're reallythinking,please.""I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted."How do you hunt abear without weapons?""Oh, we have weapons." Heflashed his bright teeth in a brief,threatening smile. I fought back ashiver before it could expose me.
  "Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. Ifyou'veever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able tovisualizeEmmett hunting."I couldn't stop the next shiver that flasheddown my spine. I peekedacross the cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful thathe wasn't looking myway. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped hisarms and torso weresomehow even more menacing now.
  Edward followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved.
  "Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.
  "More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhapsourpreferences are indicative."I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated.But my mind was filled withopposing images that I couldn't mergetogether. "Is that something Imight get to see?""Absolutely not!" Hisface turned even whiter than usual, and his eyeswere suddenly furious. Ileaned back, stunned and — though I'd neveradmit it to him — frightenedby his reaction. He leaned back as well,folding his arms across hischest.
  "Too scary for me?" I asked when I could control my voice again.
  "If that were it, I would take you out tonight," he said, hisvoicecutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could bemorebeneficial for you.""Then why?" I pressed, trying to ignore hisangry expression.
  He glared at me for a long minute.
  "Later," he finally said. He was on his feet in one lithe movement.
  "We're going to be late."I glanced around, startled to see that hewas right and the cafeteria wasnearly vacant. When I was with him, thetime and the place were such amuddled blur that I completely lost trackof both. I jumped up, grabbingmy bag from the back of my chair."Later, then," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.
第十章 审问
早上,我的某一部分非常肯定昨晚的一切都只是一场梦,而与之辩驳实在是件非常艰难的事。逻辑并不站在我这边,或者说,常识。我抱定了自己绝对想象不出来的那个部分——比方说他的香味。我相当确定,我永远都不可能自己梦到这种事的。
窗外雾蒙蒙,阴沉沉的,实在是好极了。他今天可没有理由不来学校了。我想起来自己的夹克不在,便穿上了层层叠叠的厚衣服。这进一步证实了我的记忆是真实的。
当我下楼的时候,查理也已经走了——我的动作比我意识到的还慢。我三口就咽下了一个格兰诺拉燕麦棒,直接用一盒牛奶把它送下去,(通常燕麦棒是泡在牛奶里吃的。。。贝拉把碗省掉了。。。),然后匆忙地奔出门外。这场雨很有希望能拖延到我找到杰西卡以后才下。
这雾大得不可思议:空气里几乎浸透了浓雾,一片模糊。雾气侵袭着我暴露在空气中的脸部和脖子的肌肤,冰冷刺骨。我迫不及待地想要钻进车里取暖。这雾太浓了,当我离车道只有几英尺远的时候,我才注意到那里有一辆银色的车。我的心砰砰直响,如小鹿乱撞,然后很快又找回了自己的节奏。(stuttered。。。in double time。。。我又要开始撞墙了。。。)
我没看见他是从哪里冒出来的,但忽然间他就在那里了,为我拉开车门。
“今天你愿意搭我的车吗?”他问道,被我的表情逗乐了。他又一次出其不意地抓到了我。他的声音里充满了不确定。他确实给了我一个选择的机会——我完全可以拒绝,而且他的一部分希望我这样做。这是一种徒劳的希望。
“是的,谢谢。”我说道,试图让自己的声音保持镇静。当我钻进温暖的车里时,我注意到他那件棕褐色的夹克正搭在乘客座的靠背上。我身后的门被关上了,然后,在短得几乎不可能的时间里,他坐到了我旁边,发动了车子。
“我带了这件夹克给你,我不希望你生病或者怎么样。”他的声音警惕着。我注意到他自己并没有穿着夹克,只穿了一件浅灰色的V领长袖恤衫。和上次一样,布料紧紧地贴着他完美的,肌肉结实的胸膛。他的脸为我能把视线从他身体上移开作出了巨大贡献。
“我没那么柔弱。”我说道,但还是把那件夹克拉到了膝上,把胳膊伸进对我来说太长的袖子里,好奇地想要知道那股香味是不是真的和我记忆中的一样美好。有过之而无不及。
“真的?”他反驳的声音太低了,我不能确定他是不是说给我听的。
我们开着车穿过覆满浓雾的街道,但总是开得太快,至少,让我感到很不自在。昨天晚上,所有的隔阂都消失了……几乎是全部。我不知道今天我们还能不能这样坦诚相待。这个想法让我舌头打结。我等着他先开口。
他转过头来,向我坏笑着。“怎么,今天没有二十个问题了吗?”(今天没有好奇宝宝二十问了吗?)
“我的问题让你困扰了吗?”我如释重负地问道。
“没有你的反应带来的多。”他看上去像是在开玩笑,但我不敢肯定。
我皱起眉:“我的反应有那么糟吗?”
“没有。这才是问题所在。你对待每件事都是那么冷淡——这太不寻常了。这让我很想知道你究竟在想些什么。”
“我通常都会告诉你我在想些什么。”
“你编辑过了。”他控诉道。
“没改动多少。”
“足够让我发疯了。”
“你不会想要听到的。”我低声说道,几近耳语。但话一说出口,我就后悔了。我声音里的痛苦非常地微弱,我只能希望他没有注意到。
他没有回答。我想知道我是不是把气氛给毁了。当我们开进学校停车场的时候,他的表情让人捉摸不透。我后知后觉地想起来了。
“你的家人在哪里?”我问道——不仅仅是因为和他独处而快乐,更多的是因为想起来他的车通常都是满的。
“他们坐罗莎莉的车。”他耸耸肩,把车停到了一辆闪闪发光的,车篷敞开着的火红色敞篷车旁。“太浮夸了,不是吗?”  
“呃,哇噢,”我喘息着说。“既然她有这辆车,为什么她还要坐你的车呢?”
“就像我说的,这样太浮夸了。我们努力保持低调。”
“你没成功。”我们一起走出车外时,我大笑着摇了摇头。我不会迟到了。他疯狂的驾驶让我提前了不少时间到学校。“如果这样更引人注目的话,为什么今天罗莎莉还要开车呢?”
“你没注意到吗?现在我把所有的规则都打破了。”他和我在车前碰头,当我们走进校园里的时候,他一直紧挨着我。我很想把这段小小的距离消灭掉,想要伸出手触碰他,但我很怕他不喜欢我这样做。
“为什么你们的车都是那样的呢?”我大声地表达了自己的疑问。“如果你们想要保持隐私的话?”
“一个嗜好。”他顽皮地笑着,承认道。“我们都喜欢开快车。”
“有道理。”我低声呢喃道。(“德性。”其实我很想这样翻来着。。。figures。。。但人家是俚语。。。)
自助餐厅的屋顶伸出的屋檐下,杰西卡在等待着。她的眼球几乎要掉出眼眶来了。在她手臂上的——上帝保佑她——是我的夹克。
“嗨,杰西卡。”当我们走到几英尺外的时候,我说道。“谢谢你还记得。”她把夹克递给我,什么也没说。
“早上好,杰西卡。”爱德华礼貌地说。他的声音是如此地让人难以抗拒,但这真的不是他的错。也许他的双眸要负上一点责任。
“唔……嗨。”她把那双大眼睛移向我,试图找回混乱的思绪。“我猜,我们三角函数课上见。”她意味深长地看了我一眼,我抑制住了一声叹息。我到底要告诉她什么呢?
“好的,待会儿见。”
她走开了,但途中停顿了两次,从肩膀上偷瞄我们。
“你准备告诉她什么?”爱德华低声说道。
“嘿,我以为你不能读我的心!”我嘘声说着。
“我确实不能。”他惊愕地说。然后,心领神会的神情点亮了他的眼睛。“但是,我能读她的心——她正等着在课堂上伏击你呢。”
我呻吟了一声,把他的夹克拉下来,递给他,穿上了我自己的夹克。他把它搭在了手臂上。
“那么,你打算告诉她什么?”
“给点提示?”我恳求道。“她想知道什么?”
他摇了摇头,坏心地咧嘴一笑:“这不公平。”
“不,你不分享你知道的内容——那才叫不公平。”
我们一边走,他一边仔细思考着。我们停在了我要上第一堂课的教室外。
“她想知道我们是不是在偷偷地约合。还有她想知道你对我的感觉。”他最终说道。
“呀。那我该怎么说?”我努力让自己的表情显得非常无辜。人们从我们身旁走过去上课,也许在盯着我们看,但我几乎没有注意到他们。
“呃。”他停下来,抓住一缕迷路的,从我脖子上的发卷里逃离出来的头发,把它缠绕回原处。我的心过度亢奋地砰砰乱跳。“我料想,你最好对第一个问题说是……如果你不介意的话——这比任何其他解释都要容易得多。”
“我不介意。”我用微弱的声音说道。
“至于另一个问题……嗯,我会自己去听答案的。”他的一侧嘴角微微扬起,露出我最喜欢那个不对称的撇嘴坏笑。我来不及稳住自己的呼吸,对那个备注作出回应。他转身走开了。
“我们午餐时见。”他从肩膀上向我喊道。三个人正要走进门的人停下来盯着我看。
我冲进教室,又羞又恼。他这个卑鄙小人。现在我更担心自己要跟杰西卡说什么了,我愤怒地把包砰地一声扔在座位上。
“早上好,贝拉。”迈克坐在我旁边的位置上招呼道。我抬起头,看见了他脸上古怪,甚至有些讨好的神情。“天使港怎么样?”
“这……”这可没办法如实汇报。“棒极了。”虽然我的情况不完全是这样。“杰西卡买了一条非常可爱的裙子。”
“她有谈到周一晚上的事吗?”他问道,他的眼睛闪闪发亮。话题居然转到了这上面,我不由得笑了起来。
“她说她过得非常愉快。”我让他放心。
“她真的这样说?”他急切地问道。
“千真万确。”
马森老师让全班都听他说话,要我们把论文交上去。英语课和gov_erment课都在一片模糊中过去了,我一直在担心着要怎么跟杰西卡解释,同时为爱德华是否真的会以杰西的思想为媒介听到我说的话而焦虑不安。他的小小天赋是多么的让人不便啊——当它不是用来救我的命的时候。
第二堂课结束的时候,雾已经散得差不多了,但天空依然阴沉沉的,云层低低地压在天边。我微笑地看着天空。(。。。到这里贝拉已经被洗脑得差不多了。。。呜呼哀哉。。)
当然,爱德华是对的。当我走进三角函数教室的时候,杰西卡正坐在最后一排,兴奋得几乎要从座位上跳起来了。我勉强走过去坐到她旁边,努力说服自己该来的总是要来的,不如让它早些了结。(横竖是死,早死早超生)
“告诉我每件事!”我还没坐下来,她就命令道。
“你想知道什么?”我不想正面回答她。
“昨晚发生了什么事?”
“他带我去吃晚餐,然后他开车送我回家。”
她瞪着我,板起的脸上写满了怀疑。“你怎么会那么快到家呢?”
“他开起车来像个疯子。那太吓人了。”我希望他能听到这句话。
“那像是个约会——你告诉他在那里和你见面吗?”
我完全没有想到这一点。“不——看到他时我吓了一跳。”
她撅起嘴,对我话里再明白不过的坦诚很是失望。
“可他今天去接你来上学了?”她试探着。
“是的——那也很让人意外。他注意到我昨晚没穿夹克。”我解释道。
“那么你们会再一起出去吗?”
“他主动提出载我去西雅图,因为他觉得那玩意儿,就是我那辆卡车,没法撑到那里——这算吗?”
“算。”她点点头。
“嗯,那,是的。”
“呜-哇-哦。”她夸张地把这个词拖成三个音节。“爱德华?卡伦。”
“我知道。”我很赞同。“哇”根本不足以概括它。
“等等!”她飞快地伸出手,掌心冲着我,就好像她在拦截车流一样。“他吻你了吗?”
“没有。”我含糊地说道。“根本没那回事。”
她看上去很失望。我敢肯定,我也是。
“你觉得星期六……?”她扬起眉毛。
“我相当怀疑。”很难掩饰我声音里的不满。
“你们都说了些什么?”她耳语道,迫切地想要知道更多详情。已经开始上课了,但温纳老师没怎么注意我们俩,教室里不止我们一对在说话。
“我不知道,杰西。说了很多话。”我对她耳语道。“我们稍微讨论了一下英语课的论文。”非常,非常少。我想他曾经提到过这个。
“求你了,贝拉,”她恳求道。“再跟我说得详细些。”
“嗯……好吧。我想到了一个。你真应该看看那个女招待是怎么向他卖弄风情的——简直太过分了。但他根本没注意到她。”让他自行理解这件事吧。(让他自己一边琢磨去。)
“这是个好兆头。”她点点头。“她漂亮吗?”
“非常漂亮——大概是十九岁或者二十岁的样子。”
“更好了。他一定很喜欢你。”
“我也是这样想的。但这实在很难说。他总是含糊其辞。”为着他的缘故,我叹息着,加上了这句。
“我不知道你是怎么有勇气和他独处的。”她喘息着说。
“为什么?”我震惊了,但她误解了我的反应。
“他太……吓人了。我不知道该怎么形容他。”她做了个鬼脸,大概想起了今天早上或者昨晚的事,那时候他把那种充满了压倒性的魔力的眼神施展到了她身上。
“当我在他身旁的时候,我确实很难让自己保持理性。”我坦承道。
“哦是的。他俊美得不可思议。”杰西卡耸耸肩,就像这是某种可以原谅的缺点一样。这个,在她的字典里,也许是这样。
“他不仅仅是这样。”
“真的?例如?”
我希望我能把这话说出来。这种愿望几乎和我所希望的他只是开玩笑说要偷听一样强烈。
“我没法确切地解释……但他比表面上看起来的还要让人难以置信。”一个想要做个好人的吸血鬼——他四处奔忙,去拯救别人的性命,那样他就不会是一个怪物了……我注视着教室的前方。
“这可能吗?”她咯咯地笑了起来。
我不去理会她,试图装出正在专心听温纳老师讲课的样子。
“那么,你是喜欢他的咯?”她不打算放弃。
“是的。”我简略地说道。
“我是说,你真的喜欢他?”她催促着。
“是的。”我叹息着说道,两颊飞红。我希望她没有把这个细节纳入她的思路里。
她受够了这种单音节的回答。“你有多喜欢他?”
“非常喜欢。”我向她耳语道。“比他对我的喜欢还要多。但我不知道该怎么办。”我叹息着,羞怯一阵接一阵涌上我的脸来。
然后,谢天谢地,温纳老师把杰西卡叫起来,让她回答一个问题。
整堂课她都没有机会再继续开展这个话题,当铃声响起的时候,我采取了规避话题的行动。
“英语课的时候,迈克问我你有没有提到周一晚上的事。”我告诉她。
“你一定是在开玩笑!你是怎么说的?”她渴望地喘着气说道,完全被转移了话题。
“我告诉你说你过得很开心——他看上去很高兴。”
“确切地告诉我他是怎么说的,还有你确切的回答!”
我们把走路的时间都花在了剖析句子结构上,而大部分的西班牙语课都用在了描述那一分钟里迈克的面部表情上。(天杀的接力。。。翻译成西班牙语课上用来分析句子结构的时间以及走路的时候被我们用来描述迈克的表情。。。大意如此。。。我居然被荼毒了四五遍。。。)我本不会禁得住花那么多的时间在绘声绘色地讲述这一切上,但我不想让话题回到自己身上。
而后,铃声响了起来,提醒我们午餐时间到了。当我从座位上跳起来,粗暴地把书塞进书包里的时候,我亢奋的表情铁定向杰西卡出卖了我。
“你今天不跟我们一起坐,对吧?”她猜测着。
“我不这样想。”我不便下定论,他可能会又一次消失不见。
但就在我们的西班牙语课教室外,倚着墙的——看上去比任何人都有权利更像一位希腊神祗的——爱德华正等着我。杰西卡只看了一眼,转了转眼睛,然后速速闪人。
“待会儿见,贝拉。”她的话里充满了浓浓的暗示。也许我得把电话的铃声关掉。
“你好。”(哈罗……)他的声音同时充满了快乐和懊恼。显而易见,他一定偷听了。
“嗨。”
我想不出别的话可说,而他也没说话——我猜想,是为了让他等会儿的时间更显得宝贵些(bidding histime。。。这个真的不会翻译了。。。勉强搪塞一下)——所以我们一路沉默着向自助餐厅走去。和爱德华一起走在午餐时段蜂拥的人潮里很像我第一天来这里的时候,每个人都在盯着看。
他带头向排成长龙的队伍走去,还是什么也不说,但每隔几秒钟他的目光就会落在我脸上,里面有着不确定的神情。懊恼似乎压倒了快乐,成为了他脸上的主要表情。我惴惴不安地把玩着夹克上的拉锁。
他走到柜台前,拿了满满一盘食物。
“你在做什么?”我伉仪道。“你该不会全都是拿给我的吧?”
他摇摇头,走上前去交款。
“当然,有一半是我的。”
我扬起一侧眉头。
他带路向我们上次坐过的同一个地方走去。当我们面对面地坐下来时,长桌的另一头,一群学长们惊奇地注视我们。爱德华似乎根本没注意到。(oblivious。。。接力这里翻成Edward似乎很健忘。。。)
“想吃什么,随便拿。”他说着,把那盘食物推向我。
“我很好奇。”我说着,拿起了一个苹果,让它在我手里转着圈。“如果别人问你敢不敢吃食物,你会怎么办?”
“你总是很好奇。”他扮了个鬼脸,摇了摇头。他注视着我,抓住了我的目光,然后从盘子里拿起一片披萨,故意咬了一大口,很快地咀嚼了几下,然后咽下去。我看着这一切,不由得瞪大了眼睛。
“如果有人问你敢不敢吃土,你也会吃的,对吧?”他谦逊地问道。
我皱起了鼻子。“我吃过一次……在一次‘敢不敢’大冒险的时候。”我承认道。“味道没那么糟。”
他大笑起来:“我猜我不会惊讶的。”我背后的某些事物吸引了他的注意力。
“杰西卡正在分析我的一举一动——稍后她会为你一一分解的。”他把剩下的披萨推给我。提到杰西卡像是一种暗示,他早先的懊恼又回到了他脸上。
我放下苹果,咬了一口披萨,然后看向别处,想知道他将要怎样开口。
“那么,那个女招待很漂亮,对吗?”他若无其事地问道。
“你真的没注意到?”
“没有。我完全没在注意她。我脑子里有太多事情要想。”
“可怜的女孩。”现在我能够表示宽容了。
“你和杰西卡说的某件事……嗯,困扰着我。”他拒绝被转移话题。他的声音沙哑着,他不平静的双眼从睫毛下凝视着我。
“我对你会听到你不喜欢的内容毫不惊讶。你知道他们是怎么谈论窃听者的。”我提醒他。
“我预先告诉过你我会听的。”
“而我预先告诉过你你不会想要知道我在想的每一件事的。”
“你有提过。”他同意道,但他的声音还是很沙哑。“但你说得并不贴切。我确实想要知道你在想什么——每一个细节。我只是希望……你不应该那样认为某件事。”
我皱起眉。“这确实有很大区别。”
“但这不是现在我要说的重点。”
“那么,重点是?”现在我们都从桌子上方向对方倾斜过去。他把那双雪白的大手交叠在下鄂之下。我向前侧着身子,我的右手握成杯形放在脖子下。我不得不提醒自己我们是在坐满了人的午餐室里,也许还有很多双好奇的眼睛注视着我们。我们太容易陷入我们两人私有的世界里,这是紧绷的气氛带来的少许幻觉。(,tense little bubble。。。)
“你真的相信,你对我的喜欢比我对你的还要多吗?”他低声说着,说话间他向我靠得更近了,他黑金色的眼眸极具穿透力。
我努力想要回想起如何呼吸。我不得不看向别处,直到我重又开始呼吸为止。
“你又来了。”我低声抱怨道。
他的眼睛因为惊讶而睁大了。“什么?”
“把我迷得晕头转向。”我坦白道。当我再次看向他时,我努力让自己集中精神。
“哦。”他皱起眉。
“这不是你的错。”我叹息道。“你没法控制这个。”
“你打算回答我的问题了吗?”
我低下头。“是的。”
“是的,你正准备回答,或者是的,你确实是这样认为的?”他再次烦躁起来。
“是的,我确实这样认为。”我继续低头看着桌面,我的目光描摹着喷绘在三合板上的人造木纹的图案。沉默仍在延续着。这次我固执地拒绝成为第一个打破沉默的人,艰难地与偷瞄他的神情的诱或斗争着。
最终,他说话了,声音像天鹅绒一样柔软:“你错了。”
我抬起头,看见了他温柔的眼眸。
“你不会知道那种事的。”我耳语着,不同意他的观点。我怀疑着摇了摇头,尽管我的心为他的话悸动着,我是那么的想要相信他的话。
“是什么让你这样想的?”他清澈如黄水晶般的眼眸十分锐利——我认为,是在徒劳地尝试着,直接从我的心里挖出真相。
我回视着他,挣扎着不去注意他的脸,仔细地思考着,想要找到合适的解释。当我搜肠刮肚地想着合适的话的时候,我看得出,他开始不耐烦了。他被我的沉默挫败着,开始沉下脸来。我把手从脖子下移开,向他竖起一根手指。
“让我想想。”我坚持着。他的脸立刻明朗起来,他很满意,因为我正计划着回答他的问题。我把手放到桌子上,伸出左手,然后掌心相抵着。我看着自己的双手,十指时伸时屈。最终,我说话了。
“嗯,除去那些显而易见的表现,有时候……”我迟疑着。“我不能肯定——我可不会读心术——可有时候当你在说别的事时,你像是努力要说再见一样。”这是我对他的话时不时在我心里引起的那些痛苦的感觉的最好的总结。
“非常敏锐。”他耳语道。又一阵痛苦袭来,表面上看他似乎证实了我的恐惧。“但是,那确实是你错了的原因。”他正要开始解释,但随即,他的眼睛眯缝起来。“你是什么意思,‘那些显而易见的表现’?”
“好吧,看着我。”我说道,但这毫无必要,因为他已经在注视着我了。“我无比平凡——嗯,除了一些不好的事,比方说所有这些与死神擦肩而过的经历,还有笨拙得像个残障人士一样。而看看你。”我挥手示意着他,还有他所有的让人迷乱的极致之处。
他的眉头愤怒地纠结了片刻,然后平缓下来,他露出了知晓一切的眼神。“你没有看清楚自己,你知道的。我承认在那些不好的事情上你完全正确,”他阴郁地轻笑着,“可惜你没听到当你第一天来到这里的时候,学校里的每一个人类男性都在想什么。”
我眨了眨眼睛,惊讶不已。“我不敢相信……”我低声自言自语着。
“相信我,哪怕就这一次——你完全是平凡的反义词。”
我的窘迫运甚于他说这些时的眼神给我带来的愉悦。我赶紧提醒他我最初的论点。
“可我没有说再见。”我指出来。
“你没看出来吗?这正是证明了我是对的。我的喜爱最深,因为如果我能做到”——他摇了摇头,似乎在和那个想法斗争着——“如果离开是正确的做法,那我宁可伤害自己以免伤害到你,只要能确保你的安全无虞。”
我怒目而视:“而你不认为我能做到同样的事?”
“你永远都不必作出这样的选择。”
突然,他喜怒无常的情绪又变了。一个顽劣的,讥讽的笑容重又出现在他脸上。
“当然,确保你的安全无虞正在变成一件全时制的工作,需要我永不间断地守在你身旁。”
“今天可没人想要干掉我。”我提醒着他,很高兴能够转到一个相对轻松的话题。我不想让他再谈到任何关于别离的问题了。如果我非得这样做的话,我猜想我会刻意让自己处于险境之中,好让他靠近我……在他敏锐的眼睛从我脸上看出这个念头以前,我把它赶出了脑海。这个想法显然会给我带来麻烦的。
“是目前为止还没有。”他补充道。(yet。。。Edward啊,您还能再简洁一点不?)
“是啊。”我赞同道。(yet。。。)我本应该和他争论的,但现在我只想让他的期望落空。
“我还有另一个问题要问你。”他依然是一脸漫不经心的神情。
“有话直说。”(shoot。。。两位,就不能不说单音节词么。。。)
“这周六你真的需要去西雅图吗,或者这只是用来对你所有的倾慕者说不的借口?”
想起这件事,我就不由得做了个鬼脸:“你要知道,我还没原谅你泰勒那件事呢。”我警告他。“都是你的错,他才会自欺欺人地想着我会和他一起去正式舞会。”
“噢,就算没有我他也会找到机会邀请你的——我只是想看看你的表情,”他轻笑着。如果不是他的笑声如此迷人的话,我本来会更生气些的。“如果我曾邀请你,你会拒绝我吗?”他问道,依然向自己大笑着。
“也许不会。”我坦承道。“但稍后我会食言的——捏造病情或者假装扭伤脚踝。”
他很困惑:“为什么你要这样做呢?”
我悲哀地摇了摇头。“我猜,你没见过我上体育课的样子,但我原本以为你会理解的。”
“你是在谈论你没法走过一段平坦的,稳固的路面而找不到任何东西来绊倒你的这个事实吗?”
“很显然。”
“那不会是个问题。”他很有把握地说。“这取决于谁来领你跳舞。”他看得出我正要提出异议,于是他打断了我。“可你还没告诉我——你是不是非去西雅图不可,或者说,你是否介意我们去做点别的事?”
一听到“我们”这个词,我就什么都不在乎了。
“哪个我都能接受。”我要求道。“但我有个不情之请。”
他看上去很警惕,每当我提出一个开放性的问题时他总是这样。“什么?”
“能让我开车吗?”
他皱起眉:“为什么?”
“嗯,主要是因为当我告诉查理我要去西雅图时,他特意问过我是不是一个人去,而那时,我是一个人。如果他再问的话,我大概也不会撒谎,但我不认为他会再问一次。而把我的卡车留在家里只会毫不必要地引起这个话题。另外,因为你的疯狂驾驶把我吓坏了。”
他转了转眼睛。“在所有关于我的能把你吓坏的事中,你只担心我的驾驶。”他厌恶地摇了摇头,但随即他的眼神又严肃起来。“你不想告诉你父亲你要和我呆一整天吗?”他的问题里涌动着我无法理解的暗流。(隐含着我无法理解的深意)
“跟查理在一起,少言为妙。”(less is more。。。此时无声胜有声。。。)我对此很有把我。“总之,我们要去哪里?”
“那天的天气会很好,所以我不能待在众目睽睽之下……当然你可以和我一起,如果你愿意的话。”又一次,他给出了选择,让我自己决定。
“而你将向我展示你所指的,关于阳光的事?”我问道,为即将解开又一个未解之谜的念头兴奋着。
“是的。”他微笑起来,然后顿了顿。“但即使你不想……和我单独相处,我还是希望你不要独自去西雅图。一想到你在那么大的城市里可能会遇到的危险我就不寒而栗。”
我有点恼火:“凤凰城是西雅图的三倍大——这仅仅是指人口。在面积上——”
“但很显然,”他打断我的话。“在凤凰城的时候你还没有大难临头。所以我希望你能待在我附近。”他的眼睛又开始那种不公平的催眠了。
我没有争论,也许是因为他的眼睛,又或许是因为他的动机。更何况无论如何,争论这一点毫无意义。“碰巧,我不介意和你单独相处。”
“我知道。”他担忧地叹息道。“但是,你必须告诉查理。”
“我究竟是为了什么要这样做呢?”
他的眼神忽然尖锐起来:“为了给我一点小小的,把你带回来的动力。”(第一次看这里的时候我还以为Edward有带Bella私奔的冲动。。。)
我吞咽了一下。但是,思考了片刻以后,我决定了。“我想我会试着碰碰运气的。”
他生气地哼了一声,看向别处。
“让我们聊点别的事情。”我建议道。
“你想聊点什么?”他问道。他依然很气恼。
我环顾四周,确认我们不在任何人的听力范围内。当我的目光梭巡着整个房间的时候,我遇上了他妹妹的视线,爱丽丝正注视着我。别的人则都看着爱德华。我立刻移开了视线,落回他身上。然后,我问了自己想到的第一件事。
“为什么上周末你要去山羊岩荒野……去打猎呢?查理说那不是个野营的好地方,因为到处都是熊。”
他凝视着我,就好像我忽略了某件显而易见的事情。
“熊?”我喘着气说道,而他坏笑起来。“你知道,还没到可以捕猎熊的季节。”我坚决地补充道,想要掩饰自己的震惊。
“如果你有仔细看的话,你会发现法律只针对使用武器狩猎的行为。”他告诉我。
他饶有趣味地看着我的脸,看着我一点一点地消化这个认知。
“熊?”我艰难地重复道。
“灰熊是艾美特的最爱。”他的口气依然很随意,但他的眼睛密切关注着我的反应。我努力让自己恢复镇定。(拉回自己的神志)
“呃嗯”我说着,又咬了一口披萨,借机低下了头。我慢慢地咀嚼着,然后啜饮了许久可乐,依然没有抬头。
“那么,”过了一会儿我才说道,最终对上了他变得焦虑不安的注视。“你的最爱是什么?”
他挑起一侧眉头,不赞成地弯下了嘴角。(撅起嘴就撅起嘴嘛。。。)“美洲狮。”
“啊。”我用一种礼貌的,不感兴趣的语气说道,又开始喝我的苏打水了。
“当然,”他说道,他的口吻像镜子一样反映着我的语气。(他学着我的口吻说道)“我们不得不当心,避免让有失妥当的捕猎破坏环境。我们努力把捕猎范围集中在食肉动物数量过剩的地区——变动的范围会根据我们的需要尽可能广泛些。那里通常有许多的野鹿和麋鹿,猎食它们也是可以的,但这有什么乐趣可言呢?”他自嘲地笑了笑。
“说得更确切些。”(where indeed。。。)我又咬了一口披萨,含糊地说道。
“早春是艾美特最喜欢的猎熊季节——它们刚从冬眠中醒来,所以它们更容易被激怒。”他似乎想起了某个玩笑,于是笑了起来。
“没什么能比一只被激怒的灰熊更有趣了。”我赞同着,点了点头。
他窃笑着,摇了摇头:“告诉我你真正在想的事情,求你了。”
“我试着想象出这一切——可我不能。”我承认道。“你怎么能赤手空拳猎熊呢?”
“哦,我们有武器。”他飞快地露了一下他明亮的牙齿,险恶地笑着。我击溃了一阵战栗,在它出卖我以前。“只不过不是那种他们在写狩猎法时能想到的武器。如果你在电视上看过熊进攻的样子,你就能想象出艾美特狩猎的样子。”
我没法制止住飞掠过我的脊柱的又一阵颤栗。我偷偷看了一眼自助餐厅对面的艾美特,为他并没有看着我的方向而感激着。健壮的肌肉群裹满了他的手臂和躯干,不知怎的他身上的肌肉现在看起来更吓人了。
爱德华循着我的视线望去,然后轻笑起来。我气馁地看着他。
“你也像一只熊吗?”我压低声音问道。
“更像狮子,或者说,他们是这样告诉我的。”他轻快地说道。“也许我们的偏好是有象征意义的。”
我努力微笑。“也许。”我重复道。但我的脑海里充斥着各种对立的画面,我没法把它们糅合在一起。“我能去看看吗?”
“绝对不行!”他的脸变得甚至比平时还要苍白,他的眼神忽然狂暴起来。我受惊地向后退去——尽管我永远都不想向他承认——被他的反应吓坏了。他也退回去了,两臂交叠在胸前。
“对我来说太恐怖了?”当我能再度控制自己的声音的时候,我问道。
“如果是这个原因,我今晚就会带你出去。”他斩钉截铁地说道。“你需要补充一剂量有益健康的恐惧。(你需要正常的恐惧感)对你来说没什么能比这更有好处。”
“那究竟是为什么呢?”我催促着,努力不去理会他愤怒的神情。
他怒视了我一分钟,漫长的一分钟。
“下次吧。”他最终说道。他用一种轻盈的动作站起来。“我们要迟到了。” 我环顾四周,惊愕地发现他是对的,自助餐厅里几乎全空了。当我和他在一起的时候,时间和空间都会变得模糊起来,而我会完全失去对它们的感觉。我跳起来,从椅背上抓起我


伊墨君

ZxID:21373300


等级: 热心会员
举报 只看该作者 9楼  发表于: 2013-03-07 0
Chapter 9
  "Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edward accelerated muchtooquickly down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying anyattentionto 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 thatI hadgone south. I was just wondering how you knew that."He lookedaway, 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, givingmetime to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable responsetothat, but I filed it carefully away for future study. I tried torefocus.
  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 youdo it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly,asking forclarification 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 befairlyclose. The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away Icanhear them. But still, no more than a few miles." He pausedthoughtfully.
  "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 thebackground.
  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 thantheirwords.""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 maybeyourmind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like yourthoughtsare on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned atme,suddenly amused.
  "My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered memorethan they should — probably because his speculation hit home. I'dalwayssuspected as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.
  "I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're thefreak," helaughed. "Don't worry, it's just a theory…" His facetightened. "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. Ishot apanicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much.The roadwas only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness fromtheheadlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a blackwall— as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at thisspeed.
  "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 areyou in such a hurry?""I always drive like this." He turned to smilecrookedly 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 usinto a Volvo pretzel around atree trunk, you can probably just walkaway.""Probably," he agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't."Hesighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually driftedtowardeighty. "Happy?""Almost.""I hate driving slow," he muttered.
  "This is slow?""Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped. "I'mstill 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 thatbad?""Pretty much, yeah."He waited. I was looking down at my hands, so Icouldn't see hisexpression.
  "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 upwiththis on your own.""No.""What got you started — a book? A movie?" heprobed.
  "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. "Hisdad andCharlie have been friends since I was a baby."He still lookedconfused.
  "His dad is one of the Quileute elders." I watched him carefully.Hisconfused expression froze in place. "We went for a walk —" I editedallmy scheming out of the story "— and he was telling me some oldlegends —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 athisface 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. "Hedidn'texpect me to think anything of it." It didn't seem like enough; Ihad toconfess. "It was my fault, I forced him to tell me.""Why?""Laurensaid something about you — she was trying to provoke me. And anolder boyfrom the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation,only itsounded like he meant something different. So I got Jacob aloneand Itricked 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 accusedme ofdazzling people — poor Jacob Black."I blushed and looked out mywindow 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 ontothe 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 finallybrokenthrough 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," hesaid, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather knowwhat you'rethinking — even if what you're thinking is insane.""So I'm wrongagain?" 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 hewasworried I would go into shock. I smiled wider in encouragement, andhefrowned.
  "Don't laugh — but how can you come out during the daytime?"Helaughed anyway. "Myth.""Burned by the sun?""Myth.""Sleeping incoffins?""Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone enteredhis voice.
  "I can't sleep."It took me a minute to absorb that. "Atall?""Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to look atmewith a wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost mytrainof thought. I stared at him until he looked away.
  "You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voicewashard 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'tyou want to know if I drinkblood?"I flinched. "Well, Jacob saidsomething about that.""What did Jacob say?" he asked flatly.
  "He said you didn't… hunt people. He said your family wasn'tsupposed tobe dangerous because you only hunted animals.""He said weweren't dangerous?" His voice was deeply skeptical.
  "Not exactly. He said you weren't supposed to be dangerous. ButtheQuileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."Helooked 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.""Idon't understand.""We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually verygood at what we do.
  Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to bealonewith you.""This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, butI didn't knowif he could as well.
  "A very dangerous one," he murmured.
  We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with thecurvesof the road. They moved too fast; it didn't look real, it lookedlike avideo game. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, liketheblack road beneath us, and I was hideously afraid that I would neverhaveanother chance to be with him like this again — openly, the wallsbetweenus gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled fromtheidea. 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 looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my tone. "Whatmore doyou want to know?""Tell me why you hunt animals instead ofpeople," I suggested, my voicestill tinged with desperation. I realizedmy eyes were wet, and I foughtagainst the grief that was trying tooverpower me.
  "I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low.
  "But animals aren't enough?"He paused. "I can't be sure, of course,but I'd compare it to living ontofu and soy milk; we call ourselvesvegetarians, our little inside joke.
  It doesn't completely satiate the hunger — or rather thirst. But itkeensus strong enough to resist. Most of the time." His tone turnedominous.
  "Sometimes it's more difficult than others.""Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.
  He sighed. "Yes.""But you're not hungry now," I said confidently — stating, not asking.
  "Why do you think that?""Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I'venoticed that people — men inparticular — are crabbier when they'rehungry."He chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"I didn't answer; Ijust listened to the sound of his laugh, committing itto memory.
  "Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" I asked when it was quietagain.
  "Yes." He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not tosaysomething. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's abiteasier to be around you when I'm not thirsty.""Why didn't you want toleave?""It makes me… anxious… to be away from you." His eyes weregentle butintense, and they seemed to be making my bones turn soft. "Iwasn'tjoking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get runoverlast Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you.Andafter what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make itthrough awhole weekend unscathed." He shook his head, and then seemed toremembersomething. "Well, not totally unscathed.""What?""Your hands,"he reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at thealmost-healed scrapesacross the heels of my hands. His eyes missednothing.
  "I fell," I sighed.
  "That's what I thought." His lips curved up at the corners. "Isuppose,being you, it could have been much worse — and that possibilitytormentedme the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. Ireallygot on Emmett's nerves." He smiled ruefully at me.
  "Three days? Didn't you just get back today?""No, we got backSunday.""Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated,almost angryas I thought of how much disappointment I had sufferedbecause of hisabsence.
  "Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't gooutin the sunlight — at least, not where anyone can see.""Why?""I'llshow you sometime," he promised.
  I thought about it for a moment.
  "You might have called me," I decided.
  He was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe.""But I didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.
  "What?" His velvety voice was compelling.
  "I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." I blushedto be saying this out loud.
  He was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression waspained.
  "Ah," he groaned quietly. "This is wrong."I couldn't understand hisresponse. "What did I say?""Don't you see, Bella? It's one thing for meto make myself miserable,but a wholly other thing for you to be soinvolved." He turned hisanguished eyes to the road, his words flowingalmost too fast for me tounderstand. "I don't want to hear that you feelthat way." His voice waslow but urgent. His words cut me. "It's wrong.It's not safe. I'mdangerous, Bella — please, grasp that.""No." I triedvery hard not to look like a sulky child.
  "I'm serious," he growled.
  "So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's toolate."His voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."I bit mylip and was glad he couldn't know how much that hurt. I staredout at theroad. We must be close now. He was driving much too fast.
  "What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice still raw. I justshook myhead, not sure if I could speak. I could feel his gaze on myface, but Ikept my eyes forward.
  "Are you crying?" He sounded appalled. I hadn't realized themoisture inmy eyes had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across mycheek, andsure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.
  "No," I said, but my voice cracked.
  I saw him reach toward me hesitantly with his right hand, but then hestopped and placed it slowly back on the steering wheel.
  "I'm sorry." His voice burned with regret. I knew he wasn't justapologizing for the words that had upset me.
  The darkness slipped by us in silence.
  "Tell me something," he asked after another minute, and I could hear himstruggle to use a lighter tone.
  "Yes?""What were you thinking tonight, just before I came aroundthe corner? Icouldn't understand your expression — you didn't look thatscared, youlooked like you were concentrating very hard on something.""Iwas trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker — youknow,self-defense. I was going to smash his nose into his brain." Ithought ofthe dark-haired man with a surge of hate.
  "You were going to fight them?" This upset him. "Didn't you think aboutrunning?""I fall down a lot when I run," I admitted.
  "What about screaming for help?""I was getting to that part."Heshook his head. "You were right — I'm definitely fighting fate tryingtokeep you alive."I sighed. We were slowing, passing into the boundariesof Forks. It hadtaken less than twenty minutes.
  "Will I see you tomorrow?" I demanded.
  "Yes — I have a paper due, too." He smiled. "I'll save you a seatatlunch."It was silly, after everything we'd been through tonight, howthat littlepromise sent flutters through my stomach, and made me unableto speak.
  We were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truckin itsplace, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream.Hestopped the car, but I didn't move.
  "Do you promise to be there tomorrow?""I promise."I considered thatfor a moment, then nodded. I pulled his jacket off,taking one lastwhiff.
  "You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.
  I handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie.""Oh, right." He grinned.
  I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.
  "Bella?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.
  "Yes?" I turned back to him too eagerly.
  "Will you promise me something?""Yes," I said, and instantlyregretted my unconditional agreement. Whatif he asked me to stay awayfrom him? I couldn't keep that promise.
  "Don't go into the woods alone."I stared at him in blank confusion."Why?"He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past me out thewindow.
  "I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave itatthat."I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in his voice, but Iwasrelieved. This, at least, was an easy promise to honor. "Whateveryousay.""I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed, and I knew he wanted me toleave now.
  "Tomorrow, then." I opened the door unwillingly.
  "Bella?" I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious facejust inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.
  "Sleep well," he said. His breath blew in my face, stunning me. Itwasthe same exquisite scent that clung to his jacket, but in amoreconcentrated form. I blinked, thoroughly dazed. He leaned away.
  I was unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambleditself. ThenI stepped out of the car awkwardly, having to use the framefor support.
  I thought I heard him chuckle, but the sound was too quiet for me to becertain.
  He waited till I had stumbled to the front door, and then I heardhisengine quietly rev. I turned to watch the silver car disappear aroundthecorner. I realized it was very cold.
  I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
  Charlie called from the living room. "Bella?""Yeah, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him. He was watching a baseballgame.
  "You're home early.""Am I?" I was surprised.
  "It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you girls havefun?""Yeah — it was lots of fun." My head was spinning as I tried torememberall the way back to the girls' night out I had planned. "Theyboth founddresses.""Are you all right?""I'm just tired. I did a lot ofwalking.""Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. Iwonderedwhat my face looked like.
  "I'm just going to call Jessica first.""Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.
  "Yes — but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure shebrings ittomorrow.""Well, give her a chance to get home first.""Right," Iagreed.
  I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I wasreallyfeeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shockafter all.
  Get a grip, I told myself.
  The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook.
  "Hello?" I asked breathlessly.
  "Bella?""Hey, Jess, I was just going to call you.""You made it home?" Her voice was relieved… and surprised.
  "Yes. I left my jacket in your car — could you bring it to me tomorrow?""Sure. But tell me what happened!" she demanded.
  "Um, tomorrow — in Trig, okay?"She caught on quickly. "Oh, is yourdad there?""Yes, that's right.""Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then.Bye!" I could hear the impatiencein her voice.
  "Bye, Jess."I walked up the stairs slowly, a heavy stupor cloudingmy mind. I wentthrough the motions of getting ready for bed withoutpaying any attentionto what I was doing. It wasn't until I was in theshower — the water toohot, burning my skin — that I realized I wasfreezing. I shudderedviolently for several minutes before the steamingspray could finallyrelax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the shower,too tired to move,until the hot water began to run out.
  I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying tohold theheat from the water in so the aching shivers wouldn't return. Idressedfor bed swiftly and climbed under my quilt, curling into a ball,huggingmyself to keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through me.
  My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn'tunderstand, andsome I fought to repress. Nothing seemed clear at first,but as I fellgradually closer to unconsciousness, a few certaintiesbecame evident.About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward wasavampire. Second, there was part of him — and I didn't know howpotentthat part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, Iwasunconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
第九章 理论
“我能再问一个问题吗?”我恳求道。爱德华在安静的街道上越开越快。他似乎根本就没在注意路况。
他叹了口气。
“就一个。”他同意了。他的双唇又抿紧成一条谨慎的线条。
“嗯……你说你知道我没进书店,而且我往南走了。我只是想弄明白你是怎么知道的。”
他看向别处,思索着。
“我认为我们都不应该逃避的。”我喃喃地抱怨道。
他几乎微笑起来。
“好吧,那么,我一路跟随着你的气息。”他看着路面,让我有时间恢复脸上的镇定。对此我根本想不出任何令人满意的回答,但我小心地把它归档,以供日后研究。我试着重新集中注意力。既然他终于开始解释了,我可不准备让他就此打住。
“还有,你还没回答我最开始问的一个问题……”我在拖延时间。
他不赞同地看着我:“哪一个?”
“这是怎么起作用的——读心术?你能读任何地方,任何人的心吗?你是怎么做到的?你家里别的成员能……?”我觉得自己很愚蠢,居然为了掩饰自己而要求他澄清一切。
“这可不止一个问题。”他指出。我只是十指交缠,然后注视着他,等待着。
“不,只有我是这样。而且我也不是可以听到任何地方任何人的心。我得靠得相当近。越熟悉某人的……‘声音’,我就能从越远的地方听到他们。但始终,不能超过几英里的距离。”他停下来想了想。“就好比在一个巨大的挤满人的礼堂里,同一时刻每个人都在说话。那只是一阵嗡嗡声——一阵嗡嗡的背景声。直到我把注意里集中在某个声音上,他们所想的才会清晰起来。”
“大多数时候我都会把它们拒之耳外——实在是太烦人了。而且这样会能让我显得更正常些”——他说这话时皱了皱眉——“我就不会出人意料地回答某人心中未出口的疑问。”
“为什么你认为你听不到我的‘心声’呢?”我好奇地问道。
他看着我,眼里写满了不可思议。
“我不知道。”他喃喃低语道。“我唯一的猜想是也许你的脑子运作的方式和所有别的人都不一样。就像是你的思想在AM频道,而我只能收到FM。”他向我咧嘴一笑,忽然打趣道。
“我的脑子不正常?我是个怪胎?”这些话比预期的更让我困扰——也许是因为他的推测正中要害。我时常怀疑着这一点,而当它被证实时让我感到局促不安。
“我能听到脑子里的声音,而你却在担心你是怪胎。”他大笑着。“别担心,那只是个理论……”他的脸绷紧了。“现在让我们回到你的理论上吧。”
我叹了口气。从何说起?
“我们现在都不应该逃避,对吧?”他温柔地提醒我。
我头一次把目光从他脸上移开,搜肠刮肚地想要找出合适的言语来表达。我无意中注意到了速度计。
“我的天啊!”我喊出声来。“减速!”
“怎么了?”他吓了一跳,但车速并没有放慢。
“你开到了每小时一百英里!”我依然在大喊。我惊慌失措地看了一眼窗外,但外面太黑了,我什么也看不见。路面上只有被前灯微蓝的光线照到的长长的一片能看得清。路两旁的森林就像两堵黑色的墙——如果我们用这个速度冲出路面,它们会坚固得像铜墙铁壁一样。
“放轻松,贝拉。”他转了转眼睛,还是没有减速。
“你想杀了我们吗?”我诘问道。
“我们不会撞车的。”
我试着调整自己的声音。“你为什么要这么匆忙呢?”
“我一向开这么快。”他转过头来,向我弯弯一笑。
“你给我看着路面!”
“我从没出过事故,贝拉——我甚至没有吃过罚单。”他咧嘴一笑,拍了拍他的额头。“内置雷达探测器。”(接力这句翻成,车里装了雷达探测器。。。)
“很有趣。”我怒气冲冲地说着。“查理是个cop,还记得吧?我是被教育着要遵纪守法长大的。另外,即使你把我们变成了树干上的沃尔沃夹心饼,你也许还是可以全身而退。”
“也许。”他发出一声短促的、勉强的笑声,赞同道。“但你不能。”他叹息道。我宽慰地看到指针渐渐回落到八十英里处。“高兴了?”
“差不多。”
“我不喜欢开慢车。”他抱怨着。
“这叫慢?”
“就我的驾驶而言,相当中肯。”他忽然改变了话题。“我还等着听你的最新理论呢。”
我咬住唇。他低头看着我,蜜糖似的眼神出奇地温柔。
“我不会笑的。”他保证道。
“我更怕你会生我的气。”
“有那么糟吗?”
“没错,相当严重。”
他等待着。我埋头看着自己的双手,这样我就看不见他的表情了。
“接着说。”他的声音很平静。
“我不知道从何说起。”我坦白道。
“为什么不从头说起呢……你说你不是自己想出来的。”
“不是。”
“你是从哪儿开始的——一本书?一部电影?”他试探着说。
“不——是周六,在海滩上。”我冒险瞄了一眼他的脸。他看上去很困惑。
“我碰巧遇到了一位世交好友——雅克布?布莱克。”我继续说道。“我还是个婴儿的时候,他爸爸和查理就已经是老朋友了。”
他依然一脸困惑。
“他爸爸是奎鲁特人的长老之一。”我小心翼翼地看着他。他困惑的神情立刻凝在了脸上。“我们一起散步——”我去掉了故事里关于我的阴谋的那部分“——他告诉了我一些古老的传说——只是想要吓唬我,我想。他告诉了我一个……”我踌躇起来。
“继续。”他说。
“关于吸血鬼的传说。”我意识到自己在低语着。现在我再也不敢看他的脸了。但我看见他抓着方向盘的指关节痉挛着绷紧了。
“然后你立刻就想到了我?”依然很平静。
“不。他……提到了你的家族。”
他沉默了,只是注视着路面。
我忽然担心起来,担心着想要保护雅克布。
“他只是觉得那是一个愚蠢的迷信。”我飞快地说道。“他没希望我把其中的任何内容当真。”这似乎还不太够。我不得不承认道:“都是我的错,是我逼他告诉我的。”
“为什么?”
“劳伦说了一些关于你的话——她想要激怒我。然后部落里的一个年长的男孩说你的家族不会来保留区,只是听起来他像是在暗示着别的意思。所以我把雅克布单独约了出来,哄骗他说了出来。”我垂下头,承认道。
他大笑起来,把我吓了一跳。我抬起头瞪着他。他大笑着,眼神却显得很狂暴,他直视着前方。
“怎么哄骗他的?”他问道。
“我试图向他调情——但效果比我想象的还要好。”我回想着,语气里带了点怀疑的色彩。
“我真想亲眼目睹那个情景。”他阴郁地轻笑着。“你还指责我把别人迷得神魂颠倒呢——可怜的雅克布?布莱克。”
我红着脸,转头看着自己这侧窗外的夜空。
“然后你做了什么?”一分钟以后,他问道。
“我在网上搜索了一下。”
“那证实了你的猜想吗?”他的声音听起来仅仅是感兴趣。但他的手紧紧地钳握住了方向盘。
“不。没有相符的内容。大多数内容都有点愚蠢。然后……”我停了下来。
“什么?”
“我决定了,这无关紧要。”我低语道。
“这无关紧要?”他的语气让我抬起头来——我最终打破了他小心翼翼地维持着的假面具。他的脸上写满了怀疑,还带着一丝让我害怕的愤怒。
“是的。”我柔声说道。“不管你是什么,这对我来说都无关紧要。”
生硬和嘲弄的色彩渗进了他的声音。“即使我是个怪物你也不在乎?即使我不是人类!”
“我不在乎。”
他沉默了,又一次直视着前方。他的神情阴暗而冷漠。
“你生气了。”我叹息道。“我本来应该什么也不说的。”
“不。”他说道,但他的声音和他的表情一样生硬。“我很想知道你在想什么——即使你的想法愚蠢透顶。”
“所以我又错了?”我挑衅道。
“我不是在说这个。‘这无关紧要’!”他引述着我的话,咬紧了牙关。
“我是对的?”我喘息着说。
“这要紧吗?”
我深吸了一口气。
“不怎么要紧。”我顿了顿。“但我很好奇。”只是,我的声音维持着平静。
他忽然顺从起来:“你好奇什么?”
“你几岁了?”
“十七岁。”他迅速答道。
“你满十七岁多久了?”(我最爱的一段对话。。。)
当他注视着路面的时候,他的嘴唇扭曲起来。“有一阵子了。”他最终承认道。
“很好。”我笑了起来,对他依然对我坦诚这一点很高兴。他低下头,用警惕的眼神看着我,就像他之前所做的那样,那时他正担心着我会不会震惊得休克过去。因为受到这样的鼓励,我笑得更开怀了,而他皱起了眉头。
“不许笑——可你是怎么能够在白天出来的呢?”
他总算笑了。“鬼扯。”
“被阳光灼烧?”
“鬼扯。”
“睡在棺材里?”
“鬼扯。”他迟疑了片刻,他的声音带上了某种奇特的语气。“我不用睡觉。”
我用了一分钟才消化了这句话。“完全不用?”
“从来不用。”他说道,他的声音几不可闻。他转过头来,用一种渴望的神情看着我。那双金色的眸子抓住了我的眼睛,我完全丧失了思考的能力。我凝视着他,直到他看向别处为止。
“你还没问我那个最重要的问题。”现在他的声音又生硬起来了,当他再次看向我时,他的眼睛冷冰冰的。
我眨了眨眼,依然迷茫着。“哪一个?”
“你不关心我的日常饮食吗?”他挖苦地问道。
“哦。”我喃喃地说着。“那个。”
“是的,那个。”他的声音很阴冷。“你不想知道我是否饮血吗?”
我畏缩着。“嗯,雅克布有说过一些这方面的内容。”
“雅克布怎么说的?”他冷漠地问道。
“他说你不……猎食人类。他说你的家族应该不会有危险性,因为你们只猎食动物。”
“他说我们不危险?”他的声音里有着深深的怀疑。
“不太确切。他是说你们应该没有不危险。但奎鲁特人依然不想让你们踏入他们的土地,只是以防万一。”
他看着前方,但我说不准他是是不是在看路面。
“那他说得对吗?关于不猎食人类这一点?”我竭力让自己的声音尽可能地保持正常。
“奎鲁特人的记性不错。”他低声说道。
我把这句话当作一个肯定。
“不过,别因为这个沾沾自喜。”他警告我。“就和我们保持距离这一点来说,他们是正确的。我们依然很危险。”
“我不明白。”
“我们是在尝试,”他慢条斯理地解释着。“我们通常很善于自我控制。但有时我们会犯错误。我,比方说,让自己和你独处。”
“这是个错误?”我听出了自己声音里的悲哀,但我不知道他是否也能听出来。
“一个非常危险的错误。”他低声说着。
然后,我们都沉默了。我看见前灯的光线在路面拐弯的地方扭曲着。它们移动得这样快,看上去一点也不真实,像是某个电视游戏。我意识到,时间过得这么快,就像车下漆黑的路面一样,我心头涌起一股可怕的恐惧感,生怕自己再也没有机会像这样和他在一起了——彼此开诚布公,我们之间的墙消失了,但仅此一次。他的话暗示着一切都结束了,一想到这个念头,我就畏缩起来。我不能再浪费我和他在一起的任何一分钟了。
“告诉我更多的事。”我不顾一切地问道,根本不在乎他说什么,只想再一次听到他的声音。  
他飞快地看着我,为我语气的转变而震惊着:“你想要知道更多什么的?”
“告诉我你为什么猎食动物而非人类。”我建议道,声音里依然带着绝望的气息。我意识到自己的眼睛已经潮湿了,我反抗着那阵试图压制我的悲痛。
“我不想成为一个怪物。”他的声音很低。
“但动物并不能让你满足?”
他顿了顿:“当然,我不能肯定。但我可以把它比作靠豆-腐和豆-奶过活。我们称自己为素-食-者,这是我们私底下的小玩笑。这并不能完全满足饥饿——或者说,口渴。 It doesn't completely satiate the hunger-orrather thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist.大多数时候是这样。”他的语气有所保留。“有些时候,这会比别的时候更困难些。”
“现在这对你来说很困难吗?”我问道。
他叹息着。“是的。”
“但你现在不饿。”我肯定地说——是陈述,而非询问。
“为什么你会这样想呢?”
“你的眼睛。我告诉过你我有一个理论。我注意到人们——尤其是男人——饥饿的时候会更暴躁些。”
他轻笑着:“你是个观-察-家,不是吗?”
我没有回答。我只是听着他的笑声,把它铭刻在记忆里。
“你上周末去狩猎了吗,和艾美特一起?”当我们再次安静下来的时候,我问道。
“是的。”他停顿了一秒,似乎在决定某件事该不该说。“我不想离开,但这很有必要。当我不那么渴的时候,待在你周围会更容易些。”
“为什么你不想离开呢?”
“这让我……不安……因为不在你身边。”他的眼睛很温柔,但有些紧张,它们几乎要让我的骨头都酥了。(。。。)“上周三我要你千万别掉进海里,或者别被绊倒,那不是在开玩笑。整个周末我都心浮气躁,担心着你。而在今晚发生的事以后,我很惊讶,你居然能毫发无损地平安度过整个周末。”他摇了摇头,似乎想起了什么。“好吧,并不是完全毫发无损。”
“什么?”
“你的手。”他提醒我。我低下头看自己的掌心,看见了手腕上那些快愈合了的擦伤。什么都逃不过他的眼睛。
“我摔倒了。”我叹了口气。
“这正是我想到的。”他的嘴角弯了起来。“我料想着,就你来说,情况本来可能会更糟——而这正是在我离开的整个时间里一直折磨着我的痛苦的根源。这真是非常漫长的。艾美特几乎被我烦死了。”他惨兮兮地向我笑着。
“三天?你不是昨天才回来吗?”
“不,我们星期天就回来了。”
“那为什么你们都不回学校呢?”我很沮丧,一想到因为他不在我所经受的那么多的失望的折磨,我就愤愤不平。
“嗯,你问过我阳光会不会伤害我,当然不会。但我不能走到太阳底下——至少,不能在任何会被别人看见的场合。”
“为什么?”
“我会找个时间向你展示的。”他保证道。
我思考了片刻。
“你应该打电话给我的。”我下定决心说道。
他很困惑。“但我知道你很安全。”
“可我不知道你在哪里。我——”我迟疑着,垂下了眼帘。
“什么?”他天鹅绒般的声音催促着。
“我不喜欢这样。见不到你。这也让我很不安。”这样大声地说出来让我羞红了脸。
他很安静。我惴惴不安地向他瞥了一眼,看见了他痛苦的神情。
“啊,”他低声呻吟道。“这是错误的。”
我不能理解他的反应。“我说了什么?”
“你还看不出来吗,贝拉?这完全是两码事:对我来说,是我让自己如此悲惨的;可对你而言,你不应该被牵涉得这么深的。”他移开了写满痛苦的目光,看着路面,他说得太快,我根本不明白他话里的意思。“我不想听到你有这种感觉。”他的声音很低,却很急迫。他的话刺痛了我。“这是错误的。这不安全。我很危险,贝拉——求你了,领会这一点。”
“不。”我非常艰难地努力不让自己看起来像个闹别扭的孩子。
“我是认真的。”他咆哮着。
“我也是。我告诉过你,你是什么根本无关紧要。太迟了。”
他的声音忽然响起来,低沉而刺耳。“永远不要这样说。”
我咬住唇,庆幸他不会知道这有多伤人。我看着车外的路面。现在我们一定快到了。他开得太快了。
“你在想什么?”他问道,声音依然很阴冷。我只是摇摇头,不确定自己能否说得出口。我能感觉到他正凝视着我的脸,但我只是看着前方。
“你在哭吗?”他听起来吓坏了。可我并没有感觉到眼里的液体盈出眼眶。我飞快地用手擦了一下脸颊,确实,叛徒眼泪正在那里,它们出卖了我。
“没有。”我说道,但我的声音嘶哑着。
我看见他迟疑着把右手伸向我,但他停住了,然后慢慢地把手放回了方向盘上。
“我很抱歉。”他的声音被懊悔灼烧着。我知道,他不只是在为刺痛了我的那些话道歉。
黑暗在沉默中从我们中间飞掠而过。
“和我说说话。”又过了一分钟,他要求道。我能听出来,他竭力让自己的语气更轻柔些。
“说什么?”
“今天晚上,在我转过拐角以前,你在想什么?我不明白你的表情——你看上去并不那么害怕,看起来就像是在聚精会神地想着某件事。”
“我在努力回想着要怎样挫败攻击我的人——你知道,防身术。我本来打算猛击他的鼻子,把它打进他的脑袋里的。”我想起了那个黑发男人,不由得一阵厌恶。
“你打算反抗他们?”这让他不安起来。“你没想过逃跑吗?”
“我跑步的时候老是摔倒。”我坦白道。
“那为什么不大声求救呢?”
“我正要那样做。”
他摇了摇头。“你是对的——我确实是在和命运抗争,努力让你活下来。”
我叹了口气。我们开始减速了,穿过了福克斯的边界。总共才花了不到二十分钟的时间。
“我明天能见到你吗?”我请求道。
“能——我也有一篇论文到期要交。”他微笑着。“午餐的时候我会给你留个座位的。”
这太愚蠢了。在我们经历了今晚的每一件事以后,这个小小的承诺居然能让我如此忐忑不安,让我说不出话来。
我们开到了查理的房子前。灯亮着,我的卡车还在老地方,一切完全正常。就好像从梦里醒来一样。他把车停下来,但我没动。
“你保证明天在那里?”
“我保证。”
我思索了片刻,然后点了点头。我把夹克脱下来,吸了最后一口香气。
“你可以留着它——你明天可没有夹克可穿。”他提醒我。
我把它递还给他。“我可不想被迫向查理解释。”
“哦,好吧。”他咧嘴一笑。
我迟疑着,把手放到门柄上,努力拖延着动作。
“贝拉?”他用一种不同寻常的语气问道——严肃,但犹豫。
“嗯?”我太过热切地回过头去看着他。
“你能向我保证一件事吗?”
“好的。”我刚说完,立刻为自己这个太过绝对的同意后悔了。假设他要我远离他呢?我没法信守那样的承诺。
“别再独自一人走到森林里去。”
我完全摸不着头脑,困惑地看着他:“为什么?”
他皱起眉,当他的目光越过我看向窗外时,眼神紧绷着。
“在那里我不总是最危险的生物。让我们离它远远的。”(呃,现在才发现Edward已经暗示过真的有狼人存在了。。。或者说那时候他已经知道山姆变形了。。。)
他声音里的阴郁让我微微颤抖着,但我还是很宽慰。至少,这是个容易遵守的承诺。“如你所愿。”
“我们明天见。”他叹了口气。我知道他想让我现在离开。
“那么,明天见。”我不情愿地打开门。
“贝拉。”我回过头来,他向我侧过身子来,他苍白绝伦的面孔离我只有几英寸远。我的心跳停拍了。
“祝你睡得好。”他说着。他的呼吸轻拂着我的脸,让我一阵晕眩。和沾染在他的夹克上的味道一样,一阵甜腻的香气,却更为浓郁。我眨了眨眼,完全陷入了恍惚中。他已经退回去了。
我一直没法挪动步子,直到我的大脑恢复运作为止。我不得不撑着门框,才笨拙地走下了车。我想我听到了他的轻笑声,但这声音太小了,我不能肯定。
他一直等在那里,直到我走到前门那里,被它绊了一下。然后,我听到了他的引擎安静地加速的声音。我转过身去,看见那辆银色的车消失在转角处。我这才意识,现在很冷。
我机械地掏出钥匙,打开门,走进屋里。
查理从起居室那边喊道:“贝拉?”
“是的,爸爸,是我。”我走进去见他。他正在看篮球赛。
“你回来得很早。”
“是吗?”我很惊讶。
“还不到八点呢,”他告诉我。“你们几个女孩子玩得开心吗?”
“是的——太开心了。”我的脑子高速运转着,试图回想起我原本计划的女孩之夜的所有内容。“她们俩都找到了裙子。”
“你还好吧?”
“我只是有点累,我走了很多路。”
“好吧,也许你应该上去躺着。”他听起来有些担心。我想知道我的脸看起来怎么样。
“我想先给杰西卡打个电话。”
“你刚才不是还跟她在一起吗?”他惊讶地问道。
“是的——但我把我的夹克落在她车里了。我想让她明天带给我。”
“好吧,但先让她有机会回到家。”
“好的。”我同意了。
我走进厨房,精疲力竭地坐进一张椅子里。现在我真的觉得头晕目眩起来。我想知道是不是直到现在我才开始震惊得要休克过去。振作起来,我告诉自己。
电话忽然响了起来,把我吓了一跳。我把听筒从座机上拉下来。
“你好?”我屏住呼吸,问道。
“贝拉?”
“嘿,杰西,我正要打电话给你。”
“你到家了?”她的声音听起来很宽慰……也很惊讶。
“是的。我把夹克落在你车上了——你明天能带给我吗?”
“当然,但要告诉我发生了什么事!”她要求道。(居然都不是疑问句。。。)
“呃,明天吧——三角函数课上,好吗?”
她立刻领会过来。“哦,你爸在那里?”
“是的,没错。”
“好的,我明天拿给你,那么,再见!”我能听出她声音里的急不可耐。
“再见,杰西。”
我慢慢地走上楼,一种沉重的麻木感笼罩着我的头脑。我把睡觉前的准备工作流程过了一遍,却完全没有注意到自己在做什么。直到我淋浴的时候——水太烫了,灼痛了我的肌肤——我才意识到自己快冻僵了。我剧烈地颤抖了好几分钟,直到喷洒下来的水雾最终让我紧绷的肌肉放松下来。而后我站在喷头下,累得根本不想动,直到热水快要用完为止。
我跌跌绊绊地走出来,安心地用浴巾把自己包裹起来,试图把热水带来的热度保留住,这样那种痛苦的颤抖就不会再发生了。我飞快地穿上睡衣,钻到被子底下,蜷缩成球状,紧紧地抱住自己,好让自己暖和些。一阵轻微的颤栗传遍了我的全身。
我的大脑依然让人头晕眼花地旋转着,充斥着我无法理解的画面,还有一些我挣扎着不去看的画面。一开始根本什么也看不清,但当我渐渐失去意识地时候,几张特定的画面清晰起来。
有三件事我非常肯定。第一,爱德华是个吸血鬼。第二,他的某一部分——我不知道这一部分能起的效力有多大——在渴望着我的鲜血。第三,我毫无保留,无可救药地爱上了他。


伊墨君

ZxID:21373300


等级: 热心会员
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Chapter 8
  Jess drove faster than the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four.
  It had been a while since I'd had a girls' night out, and theestrogenrush was invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs whileJessicajabbered on about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinnerwith Mikehad gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday nightthey wouldhave progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself,pleased.
  Angela was passively happy to be going to the dance, but notreallyinterested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her typewas,but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, tospareher. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.
  Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much morepolished andquaint than Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, sothey didn'tplan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay.Jess drovestraight to the one big department store in town, which was afew streetsin from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.
  The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren't exactly surewhat thatmeant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised and almostdisbelievingwhen I told them I'd never been to a dance in Phoenix.
  "Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend or something?" Jess asked dubiouslyas we walked through the front doors of the store.
  "Really," I tried to convince her, not wanting to confess mydancingproblems. "I've never had a boyfriend or anything close. I didn'tgo outmuch.""Why not?" Jessica demanded.
  "No one asked me," I answered honestly.
  She looked skeptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded me,"andyou tell them no." We were in the juniors' section now, scanningtheracks for dress-up clothes.
  "Well, except for Tyler," Angela amended quietly.
  "Excuse me?" I gasped. "What did you say?""Tyler told everyone he'staking you to prom," Jessica informed me withsuspicious eyes.
  "He said what?" I sounded like I was choking.
  "I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.
  I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation.
  But we had found the dress racks, and now we had work to do.
  "That's why Lauren doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawedthrough the clothes.
  I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with mytruck hewould stop feeling guilty about the accident? That he might giveup onmaking amends and call it even?""Maybe," Jess snickered. '"Ifthat's why he's doing this."The dress selection wasn't large, but bothof them found a few things totry on. I sat on a low chair just insidethe dressing room, by thethree-way mirror, trying to control my fuming.
  Jess was torn between two — one a long, strapless, basic blacknumber,the other a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. Iencouragedher to go with the blue; why not play up the eyes? Angelachose a palepink dress that draped around her tall frame nicely andbrought out honeytints in her light brown hair. I complimented them bothgenerously andhelped by returning the rejects to their racks. The wholeprocess wasmuch shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken withRenée at home.
  I guess there was something to be said for limited choices.
  We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things onImerely watched and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself,thoughI did need new shoes. The girls'-night high was wearing off in thewakeof my annoyance at Tyler, leaving room for the gloom to move backin.
  "Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair ofpinkstrappy heels — she was overjoyed to have a date tall enough thatshecould wear high heels at all.
  Jessica had drifted to the jewelry counter and we were alone.
  "Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view ofthe shoe.
  I chickened out. "I like those.""I think I'll get them — though they'll never match anything but the onedress," she mused.
  "Oh, go ahead — they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, puttingthelid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-whiteshoes.
  I tried again. "Um, Angela…" She looked up curiously.
  "Is it normal for the… Cullens" — I kept my eyes on the shoes — "tobeout of school a lot?" I failed miserably in my attempt tosoundnonchalant.
  "Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time —eventhe doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly,examiningher shoes, too. She didn't ask one question, let alone thehundreds thatJessica would have unleashed. I was beginning to reallylike Angela.
  "Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us therhinestone jewelry she'd found to match her silver shoes.
  We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant ontheboardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'dexpected.
  Jess and Angela were going to take their clothes back to the carand thenwalk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at therestaurant inan hour — I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were bothwilling tocome with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun — theydidn't know howpreoccupied I could get when surrounded by books; it wassomething Ipreferred to do alone. They walked off to the car chatteringhappily, andI headed in the direction Jess pointed out.
  I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I waslookingfor. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and booksaboutspiritual healing. I didn't even go inside. Through the glass Icould seea fifty-year-old woman with long, gray hair worn straight downher back,clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcominglyfrom behindthe counter. I decided that was one conversation I couldskip. There hadto be a normal bookstore in town.
  I meandered through the streets, which were filling upwithend-of-the-workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown.Iwasn't paying as much attention as I should to where I was going; Iwaswrestling with despair. I was trying so hard not to think about him,andwhat Angela had said… and more than anything trying to beat down myhopesfor Saturday, fearing a disappointment more painful than the rest,when Ilooked up to see someone's silver Volvo parked along the streetand itall came crashing down on me. Stupid, unreliable vampire, Ithought tomyself.
  I stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-frontedshopsthat looked promising. But when I got to them, they were just arepairshop and a vacant space. I still had too much time to go lookingfor Jessand Angela yet, and I definitely needed to get my mood in handbefore Imet back up with them. I ran my fingers through my hair a coupleof timesand took some deep breaths before I continued around thecorner.
  I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was goingthewrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north,andit looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. I decidedtoturn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocksandtry my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.
  A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for,dressedtoo casually to be heading home from the office, but they weretoo grimyto be tourists. As they approached me, I realized they weren'ttoo manyyears older than I was. They were joking loudly amongthemselves,laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I scootedas far tothe inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room,walking swiftly,looking past them to the corner.
  "Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to betalkingto me since no one else was around. I glanced up automatically.Two ofthem had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, aheavyset,dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one whohadspoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt,cut-offjeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward me.
  "Hello," I mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly lookedaway andwalked faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing atfullvolume behind me.
  "Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my headdownand rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. I could still hearthemchortling behind me.
  I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs ofseveralsomber-colored warehouses, each with large bay doors forunloadingtrucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the streethad nosidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wireprotecting somekind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far pastthe part of PortAngeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It wasgetting dark, Irealized, the clouds finally returning, piling up on thewestern horizon,creating an early sunset. The eastern sky was stillclear, but graying,shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'dleft my jacket in thecar, and a sudden shiver made me cross my armstightly across my chest. Asingle van passed me, and then the road wasempty.
  The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over myshoulder toglare at the offending cloud, I realized with a shock thattwo men werewalking quietly twenty feet behind me.
  They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, thoughneitherwas the dark one who'd spoken to me. I turned my head forward atonce,quickening my pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weathermademe shiver again. My purse was on a shoulder strap and I had itslungacross my body, the way you were supposed to wear it so it wouldn'tgetsnatched. I knew exactly where my pepper spray was — still in mydufflebag under the bed, never unpacked. I didn't have much money withme, justa twenty and some ones, and I thought about "accidentally"dropping mybag and walking away. But a small, frightened voice in theback of mymind warned me that they might be something worse thanthieves.
  I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much tooquietwhen compared to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier,and itdidn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer tome.
  Breathe, I had to remind myself. You don't know they're followingyou. Icontinued to walk as quickly as I could without actuallyrunning,focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards awayfrom menow. I could hear them, staying as far back as they'd beenbefore. A bluecar turned onto the street from the south and drovequickly past me. Ithought of jumping out in front of it, but Ihesitated, inhibited, unsurethat I was really being pursued, and then itwas too late.
  I reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was onlyablind drive to the back of another building. I was half-turnedinanticipation; I had to hurriedly correct and dash across thenarrowdrive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner,wherethere was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps behindme,deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though,and Iknew they could outrun me in any case. I was sure to trip andgosprawling if I tried to go any faster. The footfalls weredefinitelyfarther back. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, andthey weremaybe forty feet back now, I saw with relief. But they wereboth staringat me.
  It seemed to take forever for me to get to the corner. I kept mypacesteady, the men behind me falling ever so slightly farther behindwithevery step. Maybe they realized they had scared me and were sorry. Isawtwo cars going north pass the intersection I was heading for, andIexhaled in relief. There would be more people around once I got offthisdeserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.
  And skidded to a stop.
  The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls.
  I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps,cars,and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Becauseloungingagainst the western building, midway down the street, were theother twomen from the group, both watching with excited smiles as Ifroze dead onthe sidewalk. I realized then that I wasn't being followed.
  I was being herded.
  I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. Iturnedthen and darted to the other side of the road. I had a sinkingfeelingthat it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps behind me were loudernow.
  "There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-hairedmanshattered the intense quiet and made me jump. In the gatheringdarkness,it seemed like he was looking past me.
  "Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump againas Itried to hurry down the street. "We just took a little detour."Mysteps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself andthelounging pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked inair,preparing to use it, but my throat was so dry I wasn't sure howmuchvolume I could manage. With a quick movement I slipped my purse overmyhead, gripping the strap with one hand, ready to surrender it or useitas weapon as need demanded.
  The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop,and walked slowly into the street.
  "Stay away from me," I warned in a voice that was supposed tosoundstrong and fearless. But I was right about the dry throat — novolume.
  "Don't be like that, sugar," he called, and the raucous laughter startedagain behind me.
  I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panicwhatlittle self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward,hopefullybreaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger throughthe eyesocket — try to hook around and pop the eye out. And the standardknee tothe groin, of course. That same pessimistic voice in my mindspoke upthen, reminding me that I probably wouldn't have a chanceagainst one ofthem, and there were four. Shut up! I commanded the voicebefore terrorcould incapacitate me. I wasn't going out without takingsomeone with me.
  I tried to swallow so I could build up a decent scream.
  Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hittingthestocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I dove intotheroad — this car was going to stop, or have to hit me. But the silvercarunexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with thepassengerdoor open just a few feet from me.
  "Get in," a furious voice commanded.
  It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished,amazing howsuddenly the feeling of security washed over me — even beforeI was offthe street — as soon as I heard his voice. I jumped into theseat,slamming the door shut behind me.
  It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening ofthedoor, and I could barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard.Thetires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating tooquickly,swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught aglimpse of themdiving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and spedtoward the harbor.
  "Put on your seat belt," he commanded, and I realized I wasclutching theseat with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as thebelt connectedwas loud in the darkness. He took a sharp left, racingforward, blowingthrough several stop signs without a pause.
  But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcernedaboutwhere we were going. I stared at his face in profound relief,relief thatwent beyond my sudden deliverance. I studied his flawlessfeatures in thelimited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal,until itoccurred to me that his expression was murderously angry.
  "Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.
  "No," he said curtly, and his tone was livid.
  I sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyesstaredstraight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. I glancedaround,but it was too dark to see anything beside the vague outline ofdarktrees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.
  "Bella?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.
  "Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.
  "Are you all right?" He still didn't look at me, but the fury was plainon his face.
  "Yes," I croaked softly.
  "Distract me, please," he ordered.
  "I'm sorry, what?"He exhaled sharply.
  "Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down,"heclarified, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose withhisthumb and forefinger.
  "Um." I wracked my brain for something trivial. "I'm going to runoverTyler Crowley tomorrow before school?"He was still squeezing hiseyes closed, but the corner of his mouthtwitched.
  "Why?""He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — eitherhe's insaneor he's still trying to make up for almost killing me last…well, youremember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way todo this. SoI figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and hecan't keeptrying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Laurenwould backoff if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra,though. If hedoesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom…" Ibabbled on.
  "I heard about that." He sounded a bit more composed.
  "You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring."If he'sparalyzed from the neck down, he can't go to the prom, either,"Imuttered, refining my plan.
  Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.
  "Better?""Not really."I waited, but he didn't speak again. Heleaned his head back against theseat, staring at the ceiling of the car.His face was rigid.
  "What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.
  "Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." He waswhispering,too, and as he stared out the window, his eyes narrowed intoslits. "Butit wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt downthose…" Hedidn't finish his sentence, looking away, struggling for amoment tocontrol his anger again. "At least," he continued, "that's whatI'mtrying to convince myself.""Oh." The word seemed inadequate, but Icouldn't think of a betterresponse.
  We sat in silence again. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It waspast six-thirty.
  "Jessica and Angela will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposedto meetthem."He started the engine without another word, turning aroundsmoothly andspeeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights inno time atall, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the carsslowlycruising the boardwalk. He parallel-parked against the curb in aspace Iwould have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slidineffortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights ofLaBella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiouslyawayfrom us.
  "How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. Iheard the door open and turned to see him getting out.
  "What are you doing?" I asked.
  "I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard.
  He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with myseatbelt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waitingforme on the sidewalk.
  He spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I havetotrack them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ranintoyour other friends again."I shivered at the threat in his voice.
  "Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. Theyrushedback to me, the pronounced relief on both their facessimultaneouslychanging to surprise as they saw who I was standing nextto. Theyhesitated a few feet from us.
  "Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.
  "I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edward." Igestured toward him.
  "Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in hissilken,irresistible voice. I could see from their staggered expressionsthat hehad never unleashed his talents on them before.
  "Er… sure," Jessica breathed.
  "Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting — sorry,"Angela confessed.
  "That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.
  "I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, butfull ofauthority. He looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Doyoumind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to waitwhileshe eats.""Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying tofigure out from myexpression whether that was what I wanted. I winked ather. I wantednothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior.There were somany questions that I couldn't bombard him with till wewere by ourselves.
  "Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow,Bella…Edward." She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car,whichI could see a little ways away, parked across First Street. Asthey gotin, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. Iwaved back,waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him.
  "Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize hisface. His expression was unreadable.
  "Humor me."He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it openwith anobstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no furtherdiscussion. Iwalked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.
  The restaurant wasn't crowded — it was the off-season in Port Angeles.
  The host was female, and I understood the look in her eyes assheassessed Edward. She welcomed him a little more warmly thannecessary. Iwas surprised by how much that bothered me. She was severalinches tallerthan I was, and unnaturally blond.
  "A table for two?" His voice was alluring, whether he was aimingfor thator not. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied bymyobvious ordinariness, and by the cautious, no-contact space Edwardkeptbetween us. She led us to a table big enough for four in the centerofthe most crowded area of the dining floor.
  I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.
  "Perhaps something more private?" he insisted quietly to the host.Iwasn't sure, but it looked like he smoothly handed her a tip. I'dneverseen anyone refuse a table except in old movies.
  "Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led usaround apartition to a small ring of booths — all of them empty. "How'sthis?""Perfect." He flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.
  "Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "your server will be right out."She walked away unsteadily.
  "You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It'shardlyfair.""Do what?""Dazzle them like that — she's probablyhyperventilating in the kitchenright now."He seemed confused.
  "Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect youhave onpeople."He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes werecurious. "I dazzlepeople?""You haven't noticed? Do you think everybodygets their way so easily?"He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzleyou?""Frequently," I admitted.
  And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostesshaddefinitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn'tlookdisappointed. She flipped a strand of short black hair behind oneear andsmiled with unnecessary warmth.
  "Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What canI getyou to drink?" I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.
  He looked at me.
  "I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.
  "Two Cokes," he said.
  "I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessarysmile. But he didn't see it. He was watching me.
  "What?" I asked when she left.
  His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?""I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.
  "You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?""Should I?"He chuckled at my puzzled tone.
  "Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face twistedup into that perfect crooked smile.
  "I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again.
  "I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things.""Justthe same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and foodinyou."Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our drinks and a basketofbreadsticks. She stood with her back to me as she placed them onthetable.
  "Are you ready to order?" she asked Edward.
  "Bella?" he asked. She turned unwillingly toward me.
  I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have themushroomravioli.""And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.
  "Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.
  "Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still inplace,but he wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.
  "Drink," he ordered.
  I sipped at my soda obediently, and then drank more deeply,surprised byhow thirsty I was. I realized I had finished the whole thingwhen hepushed his glass toward me.
  "Thanks," I muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda wasradiating through my chest, and I shivered.
  "Are you cold?""It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.
  "Don't you have a jacket?" His voice was disapproving.
  "Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh — I left it inJessica's car," I realized.
  Edward was shrugging out of his jacket. I suddenly realized that Ihadnever once noticed what he was wearing — not just tonight, but ever.Ijust couldn't seem to look away from his face. I made myself looknow,focusing. He was removing a light beige leather jacket now;underneath hewore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly,emphasizing howmuscular his chest was.
  He handed me the jacket, interrupting my ogling.
  "Thanks," I said again, sliding my arms into his jacket. It wascold —the way my jacket felt when I first picked it up in the morning,hangingin the drafty hallway. I shivered again. It smelled amazing. Iinhaled,trying to identify the delicious scent. It didn't smell likecologne. Thesleeves were much too long; I shoved them back so I couldfree my hands.
  "That color blue looks lovely with your skin," he said, watching me. Iwas surprised; I looked down, flushing, of course.
  He pushed the bread basket toward me.
  "Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.
  "You should be — a normal person would be. You don't even lookshaken."He seemed unsettled. He stared into my eyes, and I saw how lighthis eyeswere, lighter than I'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch.
  "I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling thetruth again.
  That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head,frowning.
  "This is more complicated than I'd planned," he murmured to himself.
  I picked up a breadstick and began nibbling on the end, measuringhisexpression. I wondered when it would be okay to start questioninghim.
  "Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light,"Icommented, trying to distract him from whatever thought had lefthimfrowning and somber.
  He stared at me, stunned. "What?""You're always crabbier when youreyes are black — I expect it then," Iwent on. "I have a theory aboutthat."His eyes narrowed. "More theories?""Mm-hm." I chewed on a smallbite of the bread, trying to lookindifferent.
  "I hope you were more creative this time… or are you still stealingfromcomic books?" His faint smile was mocking; his eyes were stilltight.
  "Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up withit on my own, either," I confessed.
  "And?" he prompted.
  But then the waitress strode around the partition with my food.Irealized we'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other acrossthetable, because we both straightened up as she approached. She setthedish in front of me — it looked pretty good — and turned quicklytoEdward.
  "Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I cangetyou?" I may have been imagining the double meaning in her words.
  "No, thank you, but some more soda would be nice." He gestured with along white hand to the empty cups in front of me.
  "Sure." She removed the empty glasses and walked away.
  "You were saying?" he asked.
  "I'll tell you about it in the car. If…" I paused.
  "There are conditions?" He raised one eyebrow, his voice ominous.
  "I do have a few questions, of course.""Of course."The waitress wasback with two more Cokes. She sat them down without aword this time,and left again.
  I took a sip.
  "Well, go ahead," he pushed, his voice still hard.
  I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are youinPort Angeles?"He looked down, folding his large hands together slowlyon the table. Hiseyes flickered up at me from under his lashes, the hintof a smirk on hisface.
  "Next.""But that's the easiest one," I objected.
  "Next," he repeated.
  I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up myfork,and carefully speared a ravioli. I put it in my mouth slowly,stilllooking down, chewing while I thought. The mushrooms were good.Iswallowed and took another sip of Coke before I looked up.
  "Okay, then." I glared at him, and continued slowly. "Let'ssay,hypothetically of course, that… someone… could know what peoplearethinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions.""Just oneexception," he corrected, "hypothetically.""All right, with oneexception, then." I was thrilled that he was playingalong, but I triedto seem casual.
  "How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… thatsomeone…find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he knowshe was introuble?" I wondered if my convoluted questions even madesense.
  "Hypothetically?" he asked.
  "Sure.""Well, if… that someone…""Let's call him 'Joe,'" I suggested.
  He smiled wryly. "Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, thetimingwouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." He shook his head,rollinghis eyes. "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small.Youwould have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, youknow.""We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded himfrostily.
  He laughed at me, his eyes warm.
  "Yes, we were," he agreed. "Shall we call you 'Jane'?""How did youknow?" I asked, unable to curb my intensity. I realized Iwas leaningtoward him again.
  He seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyeslockedwith mine, and I guessed he was making the decision right thenwhether ornot to simply tell me the truth.
  "You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I reached forward,withoutthinking, to touch his folded hands, but he slid them awayminutely, andI pulled my hand back.
  "I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almostawhisper. "I was wrong — you're much more observant than I gave youcreditfor.""I thought you were always right.""I used to be." He shookhis head again. "I was wrong about you on oneother thing, as well.You're not a magnet for accidents — that's not abroad enoughclassification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there isanythingdangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you.""Andyou put yourself into that category?" I guessed.
  His face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."I stretchedmy hand across the table again — ignoring him when he pulledbackslightly once more — to touch the back of his hand shyly withmyfingertips. His skin was cold and hard, like a stone.
  "Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twicenow."His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"I scowled, butnodded. He moved his hand out from under mine, placingboth of his underthe table. But he leaned toward me.
  "I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush."I'venever tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's muchmoretroublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably justbecauseit's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day withoutso manycatastrophes." He paused. I wondered if it should bother me thathe wasfollowing me; instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure. Hestared,maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntarysmile.
  "Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time,with thevan, and that you've been interfering with fate?" Ispeculated,distracting myself.
  "That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard tohear. Istared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your numberwas upthe first time I met you."I felt a spasm of fear at his words,and the abrupt memory of his violentblack glare that first day… but theoverwhelming sense of safety I feltin his presence stifled it. By thetime he looked up to read my eyes,there was no trace of fear in them.
  "You remember?" he asked, his angel's face grave.
  "Yes." I was calm.
  "And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; heraised one eyebrow.
  "Yes, here I sit… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knewhow to find me today… ?" I prompted.
  He pressed his lips together, staring at me through narrowedeyes,deciding again. His eyes flashed down to my full plate, and thenback tome.
  "You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.
  I quickly scooped up another ravioli and popped it in my mouth.
  "It's harder than it should be — keeping track of you. Usually Ican findsomeone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." Helooked at meanxiously, and I realized I had frozen. I made myselfswallow, thenstabbed another ravioli and tossed it in.
  "I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully — like I said, onlyyoucould find trouble in Port Angeles — and at first I didn't noticewhenyou took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren'twith heranymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in herhead. Icould tell that you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south…and I knewyou would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting foryou,randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street — toseeif anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had noreasonto be worried… but I was strangely anxious…" He was lost inthought,staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.
  "I started to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun wasfinallysetting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. Andthen —"He stopped, clenching his teeth together in sudden fury. He madeaneffort to calm himself.
  "Then what?" I whispered. He continued to stare over my head.
  "I heard what they were thinking," he growled, his upper lipcurlingslightly back over his teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." Hesuddenlyleaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his handcovering hiseyes. The movement was so swift it startled me.
  "It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard — for me to simplytakeyou away, and leave them… alive." His voice was muffled by his arm."Icould have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid ifyouleft me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in awhisper.
  I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were foldedin mylap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. Hestill hadhis face in his hand, and he was as still as if he'd beencarved from thestone his skin resembled.
  Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.
  "Are you ready to go home?" he asked.
  "I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we hadthehour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him.
  The waitress appeared as if she'd been called. Or watching.
  "How are we doing?" she asked Edward.
  "We're ready for the check, thank you." His voice was quiet,rougher,still reflecting the strain of our conversation. It seemed tomuddle her.
  He looked up, waiting.
  "S-sure," she stuttered. "Here you go." She pulled a small leatherfolderfrom the front pocket of her black apron and handed it to him.
  There was a bill in his hand already. He slipped it into the folder andhanded it right back to her.
  "No change." He smiled. Then he stood up, and I scrambled awkwardly to myfeet.
  She smiled invitingly at him again. "You have a nice evening."Hedidn't look away from me as he thanked her. I suppressed a smile.
  He walked close beside me to the door, still careful not to touchme. Iremembered what Jessica had said about her relationship with Mike,howthey were almost to the first-kiss stage. I sighed. Edward seemed tohearme, and he looked down curiously. I looked at the sidewalk, gratefulthathe didn't seem to be able to know what I was thinking.
  He opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in,shuttingit softly behind me. I watched him walk around the front of thecar,amazed, yet again, by how graceful he was. I probably should havebeenused to that by now — but I wasn't. I had a feeling Edward wasn'tthekind of person anyone got used to.
  Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high.
  It had gotten very cold, and I guessed the good weather was at anend. Iwas warm in his jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it whenIthought he couldn't see.
  Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance,flipping around to head toward the freeway."Now," he said significantly, "it's your turn."
第八章 天使港
杰西开车比警长还快,所以我们四点就到了天使港。距我的上一次女孩夜间出行已经有一段时间了,所以在我体内奔涌的雌性激素让我十分亢奋。(继续膜拜梅尔。。。)我们听着烦人的摇滚乐,杰西卡含糊不清地说着和我们一起玩的男孩。杰西卡和迈克的晚餐进行得相当顺利,她希望周六晚上他们可以进展到初吻阶段。我愉快地向自己笑了笑。安吉拉只是随大流地对参加舞会感到高兴,但对埃里克真的没什么兴趣。杰西试图逼供出她喜欢的男生类型,但稍后就被我用一个关于衣服的提问给打断了,便放过了她。安吉拉向我投来感激的一瞥。
天使港是个小巧精致的专坑游客的风景点,比福克斯更漂亮,更有趣。但杰西卡和安吉拉对这里很熟,所以她们根本没在岸边的观光大道浪费时间。杰西径直开向了镇上一家大型百货商店,那里和戴着游客至上的面具的海岸区域只隔着几条街道。
海报上说这是一次半正式舞会,但我们不太能肯定那意味着什么。当我告诉杰西卡和安吉拉在凤凰城我从没参加过舞会的时候,她们两个都大吃一惊,简直难以置信。
“难道你从来都没有跟男朋友或者之类的人去过吗?”我们穿过商店的前门时,杰西卡怀疑地问道。
“真的。”我力求让她相信这一点,不想坦白承认我的跳舞问题。“我从来没有过男朋友,或者类似的人。我很少出去。”
“为什么不出去呢?”杰西卡盘问道。
“没人邀请我。”我如实答道。
她看上去仍在怀疑。“这里有人邀请你出去,”她提醒我,“可你都对他们说不。”我们正在青春时尚区,细看着一排排派对服饰。
“嗯,除了泰勒。”安吉拉默默地更正道。
“不好意思,”我喘着气说道。“你在说什么?”
“泰勒告诉每一个人他将会和你一起去正式舞会。”杰西卡用怀疑的眼神告诉我。
“他说什么?”我的声音听起来像是要窒息了。
“我告诉过你那不是真的。”安吉拉对杰西卡低声抱怨道
我沉默着,依然沉浸在打击之中,然后很快变成了愤怒。但我们已经找到衣架了,现在我们有活干了。
“这就是为什么劳伦不喜欢你。”当我们翻拣着衣服的时候,杰西卡咯咯地笑着对我说。
我把牙咬得咯咯直响。“你觉得,要是我开着我的卡车从他身上碾过去,他会不会不再对对那次事故感到内疚?他会不会放弃弥补他的过错甚至回过头来要求我补偿他?”
“也许吧。”杰西窃笑着说。“也许这就是他这样做的原因。”
这里的裙子不算很多,但她们两个都找到了不少值得试穿的衣服。我坐在更衣室里的一张矮脚凳上,靠着那块三面镜,试图控制自己七窍生烟的愤怒。
杰西在两条裙子中挣扎着——一件是长款无肩带的经典黑色礼服,另一件是及膝细肩带的铁蓝色礼服。我推荐她选蓝色那件,为什么不抓住人们的眼球呢?安吉拉选了一条淡粉色裙子,它恰到好处地裹住她纤长的身形,给她浅棕色的头发增添了几分甜美。我毫不吝啬地赞美她们,帮忙把她们不要的衣服挂回衣架上。整个过程比我在家陪蕾妮购物时要短暂和容易得多。我猜想,如果真要说是为什么的话,是因为这里的选择很有限。
我们又冲去买鞋子和饰品。当她们试穿的时候我只是在一旁看着提供意见,没有心情给自己买东西,尽管我确实需要买新鞋了。女孩之夜带来的亢奋在我回想起对泰勒的厌恶以后已经快要消失殆尽了,给忧郁留下了卷土重来的空间。
“安吉拉?”在她试穿一双粉色的装饰着皮革的高跟鞋时,我迟疑着开了口。她正为有一个足够高的舞伴而欣喜若狂,这样他就能穿高跟鞋了。
杰西卡已经逛到了珠宝柜台,留下我们两个在一起。
“怎么了?”她伸出腿,转过脚踝,想要更好地看看这双鞋。
我的勇气又用完了,只好放弃。“我喜欢这双。”
“我想我可以把它们买下来——虽然除了一条裙子它们什么也不搭。”她若有所思地说着。
“哦,别犹豫——他们正在打折呢。”我鼓励道。她微笑着,盖上那只装着一对看起来更实用的白色鞋子的盒子。
我再次尝试。“呃,安吉拉……”她好奇地抬起头。
“这是不是很正常……对卡伦家的孩子来说,”我的眼睛盯着她的鞋子。“就是,经常不来上学?”我试着让自己的声音显得漠不关心,却悲惨地以失败告终。
“是的,当天气晴好的时候他们会把所有的时间都花在徒步旅行上——甚至包括医生本人。他们都非常喜欢户外活动。”她平静地告诉我,依然在检查她想鞋子。她甚至没有问一个问题,更别提杰西卡会连珠炮似的发问的成百个问题了。我真的开始喜欢安吉拉了。
“哦。”当杰西卡折返回来向我们展示她发现的那件可以搭配她的银色鞋子的人造宝石项链时,我丢下了这个话题。
我们计划去观光大道上的一家意大利小餐厅吃晚饭,但买衣服所花的时间并没有像我们期待的那样长。杰西和安吉拉打算把她们的衣服拿回车里,再走到海港那里。我告诉她们一个小时以后在餐厅里等她们——我想去找一家书店。她们都很乐意陪我去,但我鼓励她们去玩得开心点——她们都不知道当我被书包围的时候我会多么的沉迷。这是我更情愿一个人做的事。她们向车子走去,开心地闲聊着,而我则直奔向杰西所指的方向。
我毫不费力就找到了那家书店,但它并不是我想找的那种书店。橱窗里摆满了水晶球,捕梦网,以及关于精神治疗的书。我甚至不想走进去。透过玻璃,我能看到一个五十岁左右的女人,灰色的头发直直地耷拉在她的背上。她裹着一条六十年代时就已经过时了的裙子,站在柜台后露出热烈欢迎的微笑。我认为我完全可以跳过和她对话这一步。镇上一定还有一家更正常的书店。
我漫步着穿过街道,一心希望自己正在走向闹市区,街上正挤满了下班的车流。我没太留意自己该向哪个方向走去。我正在全力应付着心头的失落。我如此努力地不让自己去想他。而安吉拉所说的……还有更多事情试图击倒我对周六的希望。当我抬头看见别人的银色沃尔沃停在路边时,我感到了一阵更为痛苦的失望,这几乎把我给击垮了。愚蠢,不可靠的吸血鬼,我自忖着。
我重重地踏着步子,向更南的方向走去,走向几家正面是玻璃墙的,看起来比较可靠的商店。但当我走过去的时候,才发现那只是一家维修店和一间闲置的店面。我还是有很多时间,没有必要现在就回过头去找杰西和安吉拉。而且在跟她们碰头以前,我确实需要把自己的情绪调整好。我用手指捋了几下头发,做了好几次深呼吸,然后继续转过街角。
当我穿过另一条街道时,我开始意识到,我走错方向了。我看到的仅有的几辆车都是往北去的,而这里的建筑看起来更像是仓库。我决定在下一个路口向东走,然后在走了几个街区原地打转,试图碰碰运气,找到另一条走回观光大道的路。
几个男人成群结队地从我正在走向的街角走出来,穿着如此随便,就好像是在下班回家的路上,但他们都脏兮兮的,看上去不像是游客。当他们走到我面前时,我意识到他们没比我大几岁。他们在大声地开着彼此的玩笑,刺耳地大笑着,相互推搡着胳膊。我飞快地躲到人行道内侧,给他们让出路来,很快地走过去,想要从他们身边走过去穿过街角。
“嘿,这儿!”当他们经过的时候,其中一个喊道。他只能是在跟我说话,因为周围根本没有别人。我下意识地抬起头,他们中的两个停了下来,另外两个还在慢慢走着。离我最近的那个体格魁梧的黑发男人看上去才二十出头,似乎就是刚刚说话的那人。他穿着一件敞开着的法兰绒衬衣,里面穿着一件肮脏的T恤衫,牛仔裤破破烂烂的,还穿着凉鞋。他向我迈了一步。
“你好。”纯粹是下意识地,我低声说道。然后我飞快地看向别处,加速向拐角处走去。我能听到他们在我身后高声大笑着。
“嘿,等等!”他们中的一个又在我背后喊道,但我继续向前冲,直到转过街角,才安下心来,松了一口气。我依然能提到从背后传来的他们得意的高笑。
我发现自己站在一条人行道上,它通向几座暗色调的大仓库背后,每一座仓库都有着巨大的供货车卸货用到车库门,因为到了晚上而紧锁着。街道南面没有人行道,只有一道高高围起的,上面安着带刺的铁丝网,保卫着高墙后存放着重要货物的远足。我看出来了,作为一个人生地不熟的访客,我离天使港那边已经相当远了。我意识到,天色越来越黯淡,云层最终又聚拢来了,堆积在西边的地平线上,让日落提前了。东边的天空依然晴朗,却灰蒙蒙的,布满了粉色和橙色的光纹。我把夹克留在了车里,一阵忽然的战栗让我紧紧地把双臂抱在胸前。一辆单厢货车从我身边开过,然后路面又变得空荡荡起来。
天忽然黑得更快了,然后当我越过自己的肩膀看向那片烦人的云彩时,我震惊地注意到两个男人正在我身后二十英尺外的地方悄无声息地向我走来。
他们是刚刚在街角和我擦身而过的那伙人,但不是刚刚和我说话的那个肤色黝黑的人。我立刻转过头,加快了脚步。一阵与天气无关的寒意又一次让我战栗起来。我的钱包用一根皮带斜挎在身上,我把它紧紧地捂在身上,就是那种你能想到的姿势,这样它就不容易被抢走了。我确切地知道我的防狼喷雾在那里——仍在我床底下的登山包里,还没开封。我身上没有多少钱,只有二十几美元。我考虑着“不小心”让我的包掉下去,然后快步走开。但是,我脑后的一个小小的,吓人的声音警告着我,他们可能会是比强盗更糟糕的人。
我专注地聆听着他们安静的脚步声,但比起他们之前发出的嘈杂的噪音,这实在是太安静了点。听起来他们也没有任何加速或者靠近我的意思。呼吸,我不得不提醒自己。你不知道他们是不是真的在跟着你。我继续快步走着,速度快得就差没跑起来,专注地盯着现在离我只有几码远的右手边的转角处。我能听到,他们和我依然保持着原来的距离。一辆蓝色的小车从南边开进这条街道,飞快地从我身边开过。我想过跳到车前把它截住,但我犹豫了。我抑制住自己的冲动,是因为不敢确定自己是不是真的被跟踪了。然后,已经太迟了。  
我走到拐角处,飞快地瞥了一眼,发现那只是通往另一幢建筑物的断头路。我中途改变了主意。我不得不赶紧改变方向,冲过那条狭窄的车道,然后回到人行道上。这条道路在下一个拐角处中断了。那里有一个停下的标志。我把注意力集中在身后微弱的脚步声上,考虑着要不要逃跑。但是,他们听起来在背后更远的地方,而且我知道无论如何他们都会跑过我的。如果我试图跑快些,我一定会被绊到,然后躺倒在地上。脚步声显然是从后面更远的地方传来的。我冒险飞快地向肩膀后扫了一眼,然后宽慰地看到,他们现在在离我大概有四十英尺的距离。但他们都在盯着我。
我似乎永远也不可能走到拐角处。我尽量让自己的步子踏得稳一些,那两个被我远远地抛在后面的男人每一步都走得那么的轻。也许是他们意识到自己吓着我了,所以感到抱歉。我看见两辆车一路向北开进了我正在前往的那个十字路口,我宽慰地松了口气。等我离开这条荒芜的街道的时候,周围一定会有更多人的。我轻快地跳过拐角,感激地叹了口气。
然后脚下一滑,停在那里。
这条街道两旁全是空白的,没有门窗的墙。我能看见在远处两个十字路口以外的地方,有街灯,有车流,还有更多的行人,但那些都太远了。因为在这条街的中部,在西边的建筑物旁闲逛着的,正是那伙人中另外两个。当我僵在人行道上的时候,他们都兴奋地笑着看着我。然后我意识到,我没有被跟踪。
我被堵截了。
我只停顿了一秒,但却像一个世纪一样漫长。我转过身去,向路的另一头冲去。我有种沉重的感觉,知道这只是一次白费力的尝试。我身后的脚步声现在变响了。
“你来啦!”从那个健壮结实的黑发男人口中发出的浑厚的说话声打破这片紧绷的宁静,把我吓了一跳。在逐渐聚拢的黑暗中,他似乎是在向我身后看去。
“是啊。”在我试图飞快地穿过街道时,一个声音从我身后大喊着,又把我吓了一跳。“我们只是绕了点路。”
现在我不得不放慢了脚步。我把自己跟那两个闲逛的人的距离缩短得太快了。我的尖叫相当地响亮,我深吸了一口气,准备让它派上用场。但我的嗓子实在太干了,我不敢肯定我能发出多大的音量。我飞快地把钱包越过头取下来,用一只手紧紧地攥着那条皮带,准备把它交出来,或者在必要的时候当成武器用。
当我警惕着停下脚步的时候,慢慢地向街道走去的时候,那个矮胖的男人在墙那边耸了耸肩。
“离我远点。”我警告着,猜想着自己的声音听起来有力而且无畏。但我对喉咙太干的判断是正确的——音量不够。
“别这样,甜心。”他喊道,然后一片沙哑的笑声又在我背后响起。
我鼓起勇气,分腿站立,试图在恐惧中记起我知道的那些少得可怜的防身术。手腕外侧向上猛刺,有望打断鼻梁或者把它挤进脑袋里。手指向眼窝猛刺——努力向上钩起,把眼珠子剜出来。当然,还有标准的膝撞腹股沟。同一个悲观的声音在我脑海里大声说着,提醒我很有可能根本没有胜算对抗其中的一个,更何况这里有四个人。闭嘴!我赶在恐惧击倒我以前对那个声音下令。如果没人帮我,我根本不可能逃出生天。我试图吞咽了一下,好发出足够响亮的尖叫。
车灯忽然从转角处飞快地冲过来,那辆车几乎撞上了那个矮胖的男人,逼得他跳回了人行道上。我冲到路上——这辆车要么停下来,要么就得撞上我了。但那辆车出人意料地摆尾急转,骤然停在离我几英尺远的地方,乘客座的门打开了。
“上车。”一个狂怒的声音命令道。
这实在是太惊人了,那种令人窒息的恐惧瞬间消失了,一种安全感席卷了我的全身——我甚至还在街上站着呢——这一切都发生在我听到他的声音的那一刹那。我跳进座位里,猛地用力把我身后的门关上。
车里很黑,即使在门开着的时候也没有任何光线照进来,我只能借着仪表板上发出的红光勉强看清他的脸。他调转车头向北,轮胎发出尖锐的声音。车子加速得太快了,以至于急转着冲向了街道上那些吓呆了的男人。当我们径直开出街道,加速向海湾驶去的时候,我仅能瞥见他们向人行道上逃去。
“系上你的安全带。”他命令道,我这才意识到自己双手紧紧地抓着座位。我迅速服从了命令。安全带扣在一起时发出啪的一声,在黑暗中显得格外响亮。他向左急转,向前推进着,接连闯过了好几个红灯也没停下来。
但眼下我只感受到了一种绝对的安全感,完全不关心我们要去哪里。我凝视着他的脸,深深地感到宽慰,这种宽慰甚至超过了我意外得救的感觉。在微弱的光线里,我细看着他毫无瑕疵的容貌,等着我的呼吸恢复如常,直到我想起来,他脸上的神情是一种残暴的愤怒。
“你还好吧?”我问道,惊讶地发现自己的声音听起来是那么的嘶哑。
“不。”他简略地答道,依然是震怒的口吻。
我沉默地坐着,看着他的脸,他冒火的眼睛却直视着前方,直到车子忽然一个急停。我环顾四周,但外面太黑了,除了公路两旁那些模糊的黑色的树影,什么也看不见。我们已经不在镇上了。
“贝拉?”他问道。他的声音紧绷着,显然在竭力控制着自己。
“怎么了?”我的声音依然沙哑着。我试图不发出声音地清了清嗓子。
“你没事吧?”他还是没有看我,但他脸上的狂怒再明白不过了。
“是的。”我用嘶哑的声音轻轻地说着。
“请让我分神。”他下令。
“对不起,你在说什么?”
他急促地呼了口气。
“随便说些不关痛痒的事,直到我平静下来为止。”他阐释着,闭上眼睛,用拇指和食指按压着鼻梁。
“呃。”我痛苦地搜寻着脑海里的琐事。“明天上课以前我要开车从泰勒?克劳利身上碾过去。”
他依然紧紧地闭着双眼,但他的嘴角微微抽动着。
“为什么?”
“他告诉每一个人说他要带我去参加正式舞会——不管他是有病还是在努力为上次差点杀了我作补偿……嗯,你记得的,不知怎的他认为正式舞会是这样做的良好时机。所以我估计我也危害一次他的性命的话,我们俩就扯平了,他就不必再努力作补偿了。我不需要敌人,如果他肯放过我的话,也许劳伦会放弃和我做对。不过,也许我得完全摧毁他那辆森特拉。如果他没有车的话,他就没法带任何人去正式舞会了……”我不停地唠叨着。
“我听到过这些传言。”他的声音听起来镇静些了。
“真的?”我难以置信地问道,早先的怒火再次熊熊燃烧起来。“要是他从脖子以下高位截瘫,他同样也没法去参加正式舞会了。”我喃喃低语着,推敲着我的计划。
爱德华叹息着,终于睁开了眼睛。
“好些了?”
“完全没有。”  
我等待着,但他不再说话了。他把头靠在椅背上,盯着车里的天花板。他的神情很坚毅。
“怎么回事?”我的声音低得像在耳边低语。
“有时候我会很难控制住自己的脾气,贝拉。”他也低语道,当他看向窗外的时候,眼睛眯成了两条缝。“但这对我不会有任何好处,即使我掉头回去,找到那些……”他没把话说完,便移开了视线,再次挣扎了许久,才控制住自己的怒火。“至少,”他继续说道。“这是我努力用力说服自己的借口。”
“哦。”这个词显然不够恰当,但我想不出更好的回答。
我们又一次在沉默中坐着。我瞥了一眼仪表板上的时钟。已经六点半了。
“杰西卡和安吉拉会担心的。”我低声说着。“我本来应该去跟她们碰头的。”
他一声不响地发动了引擎,流畅地掉转车头,加速冲回镇里去。我们几乎是立刻就开回了有路灯照明的地方,但车速还是太快,迂回着穿过观光大道上缓缓开着的车流里的空隙。他把车平行于路边停了下来,停在了一个我觉得对这辆沃尔沃来说有点太小的空位上,但他毫不费力地只一次就把车停好了。我向窗外望去,看见了拉?贝拉餐厅的灯光。杰西卡和安吉拉正从店里走出来,焦急地向和我们相反的方向走去。
“你怎么会知道上哪儿……?”我开了口,但随后只是摇头。我听到门开的声音,回头去,却看到他正在下车。
“你要做什么?”我问道。
“我要带你去吃晚餐。”他轻轻地微笑着,眼神却依然坚毅。他走出车外,把门关上。我解开安全带,也匆匆忙忙地下了车。他在人行道上等着我。
在我开口以前,他说话了:“在我又想去追捕他们以前,去把杰西卡和安吉拉叫住。要是我再碰上你另一些朋友,我不认为我还能管得住自己。”
他话语里的威胁让我不寒而栗。
“杰西!安吉拉!”我在她们背后大喊着,当她们回过头来时,我用力挥着手。她们转身向我冲回来,但在看清和我站在一起的人以后,脸上显而易见的宽慰瞬间变成了惊讶。她们在离我只有几英尺远的地方踌躇着。
“你上哪儿去了?”杰西卡的声音里充满了怀疑。
“我迷路了。”我羞怯地承认道。“然后我碰见了爱德华。”我向他做了个手势。
“我可以加入你们吗?”他用丝绸一样柔软的,让人无法抗拒的声音问道。我能从她们脸上吃惊的神情看出,此前他从未对她们施展过他的天赋。
“唔……当然。”杰西卡喘息着说。
“呃,事实上,贝拉,在我们等待的时候我们就吃过了——抱歉。”安吉拉坦白道。
“没关系——我不饿。”我耸耸肩。
“我觉得你最好吃点东西。”爱德华的声音很低,却充满了威严。他抬头看着杰西卡,稍稍提高了音量。“你介意我今晚开车送贝拉回家吗?这样你就不用在她吃东西的时候等着了。”
“嗯,没问题,我猜……”她咬住唇,试图从我的表情看出哪个才是我想要的。我向她使了个眼色。我什么也不想要,只想和我永远的救星待在一起。我有太多太多的问题要问了,但只有在我们独处的时候,我才能轰炸他。
“好吧。”安吉拉比杰西卡反应得更快。“明天见,贝拉……爱德华。”她抓住杰西卡的手,拖着她向车子走去。我看见她的车子离这里不远,停在了第一街上。当她们上车的时候,杰西回过头来向我挥手,她的脸上充满了好奇的渴望。我也向她们挥手,一直等到她们把车开走,才转过身去面对他。
“老实说,我一点儿也不饿。”我坚持说着,抬起头端详着他的脸。他的神情有些难以捉摸。
“就当是为了我。”(humor me。。。)
他向餐厅的大门走去,推开门,用固执的神情把门撑住。显然,已经没商量了。我顺从地叹了口气,从他身旁走过,进了餐厅。
餐厅里并不拥挤——现在是天使港的淡季。店主是女的,当她审视着爱德华的时候,我读出了她眼里的神情。她热情地有些过火地欢迎他的光临。我吃惊地发现,这居然会让我如此心烦意乱。她比我高几英寸,漂亮得简直违背了自然规律。
“有两个人的位置吗?”不管他是有意的还是无意的,他的声音都太诱人了。我看见她的眼睛飞快地瞥了我一眼,然后移开了。显然她对我的相貌平平,还有爱德华出于谨慎,在我们之间保持着的毫无身体接触的距离感到相当地满意。她把我们带到用餐区里人最多的地方的正中,一张足以坐下四个人的桌子旁。
我正要坐下,爱德华却向摇了摇头。
“也许换个更私密些的地方?”他安静地向店主坚持着。我不太敢肯定,但看上去他熟练地给了她一点小费。我从没见过有人拒绝一个座位,除了在老电影里。
“当然。”她听起来和我一样吃惊。她转身领着我们绕过一堵隔墙,走到小小的一圈卡座前——所有的卡座都是空的。“这里怎么样?”
“好极了。”他熠熠生辉的笑容一闪而过,立刻把她迷住了。
“呃。”——她摇了摇头,眨着眼睛——“你的侍者马上就到。”她步伐不稳地走开了。
“你真的不应该对别人这样做。”我批评道。“这太不公平了。”
“做什么?” “像那样迷得她


伊墨君

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Chapter 7

    I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn'twantanything to eat. There was a basketball game on that he wasexcitedabout, though of course I had no idea what was special about it,so hewasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone.
  Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until Ifoundmy old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. Ipickedup a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one ofhisfavorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shriekingfor mytastes. I popped it into place and lay down on my bed. I put ontheheadphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears.Iclosed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a pillowoverthe top half of my face.
  I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understandthelyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third timeI'dlistened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, atleast.
  I was surprised to find that I really did like the band after all,once Igot past the blaring noise. I'd have to thank Phil again.
  And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me tothink —which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CDagainand again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until,finally,I fell asleep.
  I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner ofmyconsciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light oftheforest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rockssomewherenearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able tosee the sun.
  I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there,tuggingon my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of theforest.
  "Jacob? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was frightened as heyanked withall his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to gointo the dark.
  "Run, Bella, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.
  "This way, Bella!" I recognized Mike's voice calling out of the gloomyheart of the trees, but I couldn't see him.
  "Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now tofind the sun.
  But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, fallingto thedim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched inhorror.
  "Jacob!" I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a largered-brownwolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointingtoward theshore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, lowgrowlsissuing from between his exposed fangs.
  "Bella, run!" Mike cried out again from behind me. But I didn't turn. Iwas watching a light coming toward me from the beach.
  And then Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintlyglowing, hiseyes black and dangerous. He held up one hand and beckonedme to come tohim. The wolf growled at my feet.
  I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth weresharp, pointed.
  "Trust me," he purred.
  I took another step.
  The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire,fangs aiming for the jugular.
  "No!" I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed.
  My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off thebedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor.
  My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed,withmy shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. Itwasfive-thirty in the morning.
  I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots.
  I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. Irolled backover and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as Itried tostay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, anuncomfortableridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side andripped therubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with myfingers. Ipulled the pillow back over my eyes.
  It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged upexactly theimages I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was goingto have toface them now.
  I sat up, and my head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward.
  First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long aspossible. I grabbed my bathroom bag.
  The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though.Eventaking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to dointhe bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. Icouldn'ttell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. Iwent tolook out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again.
  I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed —somethingI never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to mydesk andswitched on my old computer.
  I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, myfreeservice substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided togoget myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.
  I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, Iwashed thebowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet draggedas Iclimbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up offthefloor and placing it precisely in the center of the table. I pulledoutthe headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turnedthesame CD on, turning it down to the point where it was backgroundnoise.
  With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screenwascovered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and beganclosingall the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favoritesearchengine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.
  Vampire.
  It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the resultscame up,there was a lot to sift through — everything from movies and TVshows torole-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmeticcompanies.
  Then I found a promising site — Vampires A—Z. I waited impatientlyfor itto load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across thescreen.
  Finally the screen was finished — simple white background withblacktext, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:
  Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is nofigureso terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight withsuchfearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghostnordemon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses themysteriousand terrible qualities of both. — Rev. Montague SummersIfthere is in this world a well-attested account, it is that ofthevampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits ofwell-knownpeople, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicialproof ismost complete. And with all that, who is there who believes invampires?
  — RousseauThe rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of allthe differentmyths of vampires held throughout the world. The first Iclicked on, theDanag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible forplanting taro onthe islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danagworked withhumans for many years, but the partnership ended one day whena woman cuther finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the tasteso much thatit drained her body completely of blood.
  I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anythingthatsounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampiremythscentered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims;theyalso seemed like constructs created to explain away the highmortalityrates for young children, and to give men an excuse forinfidelity. Manyof the stories involved bodiless spirits and warningsagainst improperburials. There wasn't much that sounded like the moviesI'd seen, andonly a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the PolishUpier, who wereeven preoccupied with drinking blood.
  Only three entries really caught my attention: the RomanianVaracolaci, apowerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful,pale-skinnedhuman, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast itcouldmassacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, andoneother, the Stregoni benefici.
  About this last there was only one brief sentence.
  Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side ofgoodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.
  It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds thatclaimed the existence of good vampires.
  Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob'sstories ormy own observations. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind asI'd readand carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength,beauty, paleskin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria:blood drinkers,enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal.There were very fewmyths that matched even one factor.
  And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the smallnumberof scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading—vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them toacinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.
  Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, notwaitingto shut things down properly. Through my irritation, I feltoverwhelmingembarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in myroom,researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that mostof theblame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks — and theentiresodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter.
  I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to gothatdidn't involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway,unclearwhere I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into myraincoatwithout checking the weather and stomped out the door.
  It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck andstarted easton foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward theever-encroachingforest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough forthe house and theroad to be invisible, for the only sound to be thesquish of the dampearth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.
  There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the foresthere, or Iwouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense ofdirection washopeless; I could get lost in much less helpfulsurroundings. The trailwound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostlyeast as far as I couldtell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and thehemlocks, the yews andthe maples. I only vaguely knew the names of thetrees around me, and allI knew was due to Charlie pointing them out tome from the cruiser windowin earlier days. There were many I didn'tknow, and others I couldn't besure about because they were so covered ingreen parasites.
  I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed meforward. Asthat started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisturetrickled down fromthe canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if itwas beginning torain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday,held high in theleaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to theearth. A recentlyfallen tree — I knew it was recent because it wasn'tentirely carpeted inmoss — rested against the trunk of one of hersisters, creating asheltered little bench just a few safe feet off thetrail. I stepped overthe ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacketwas between the dampseat and my clothes wherever they touched, andleaned my hooded head backagainst the living tree.
  This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, butwhereelse was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too muchlike thescene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind. Now thattherewas no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence waspiercing.
  The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so itmustbe raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that Iwasseated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feetaway,and not see me.
  Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurditiesthatembarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest forthousandsof years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred differentlandsseemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in myclear-cutbedroom.
  I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer,but I did so unwillingly.
  First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said aboutthe Cullens could be true.
  Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It wassillyand morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? Iaskedmyself. There was no rational explanation for how I was alive atthismoment. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself:theimpossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black togoldand back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more—small things that registered slowly — how they never seemed to eat,thedisturbing grace with which they moved. And the way besometimesspoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit thestyle of aturn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-centuryclassroom.He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn'tsaid noto the beach trip till he heard where we were going. He seemed toknowwhat everyone around him was thinking… except me. He had told me hewasthe villain, dangerous…Could the Cullens be vampires?
  Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility ofrationaljustification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes.Whetherit be Jacob's cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edward Cullenwasnot… human. He 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 if itwas true?
  If Edward was a vampire — I could hardly make myself think thewords —then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out.Icouldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed.
  Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take hisadvice: tobe smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel ourplans, to goback to ignoring him as far as I was able. To pretend therewas animpenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where wewereforced together. To tell him to leave me alone — and mean it thistime.
  I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I consideredthatalternative. My mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to thenextoption.
  I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something…sinister,he'd done nothing to hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dentinTyler's fender if he hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, I arguedwithmyself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was areflex tosave lives, how bad could he be? I retorted. My head spunaround inanswerless circles.
  There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. ThedarkEdward in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear oftheword Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when I'dscreamedout in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for thewolf thatbrought the cry of "no" to my lips. It was fear that he wouldbe harmed —even as he called to me with sharp-edged fangs, I feared forhim.
  And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there ever wasachoice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew — if I knew—I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thoughtofhim, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force ofhispersonality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now.Evenif… but I couldn't think it. Not here, alone in the darkeningforest. Notwhile the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy andpattered likefootsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered androse quicklyfrom my place of concealment, worried that somehow the pathwould havedisappeared with the rain.
  But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of thedrippinggreen maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close aroundmy face,becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at howfar I hadcome. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, orfollowing thepath farther into the confines of the forest. Before Icould get toopanicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spacesthrough the webbedbranches. And then I could hear a car passing on thestreet, and I wasfree, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, thehouse beckoningme, promising warmth and dry socks.
  It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and gotdressedfor the day, jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. Itdidn'ttake too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, apaper onMacbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a roughdraftcontentedly, more serene than I'd felt since… well, sinceThursdayafternoon, if I was being honest.
  That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was thepainfulpart for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision wasmade, Isimply followed through — usually with relief that the choice wasmade.
  Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision tocome toForks. But it was still better than wrestling with thealternatives.
  This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy.
  And so the day was quiet, productive — I finished my paper before eight.
  Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note topick upa book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. Thechillsthat flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip werenodifferent than the ones I'd felt before I'd taken my walk withJacobBlack. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid — Iknew Ishould be, but I couldn't feel the right kind of fear.
  I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day soearly,and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the secondtimesince arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day.Iskipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloudinthe sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffsthatcouldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window —surprisedwhen it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened itin whoknows how many years — and sucked in the relatively dry air. Itwasnearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in myveins.
  Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked upon my mood immediately.
  "Nice day out," he commented.
  "Yes," I agreed with a grin.
  He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. WhenCharliesmiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped tooquicklyinto an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been inthosedays had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair — thesamecolor, if not the same texture, as mine — had dwindled, slowlyrevealingmore and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when hesmiled Icould see a little of the man who had run away with Renée whenshe wasjust two years older than I was now.
  I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring inthesunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out agoodbye,and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated onmy wayout the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fateto leaveit home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped outinto thebrightest light I'd seen in months.
  By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in thetruckalmost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones toschool; Ihadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. Iparked andheaded toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south sideof thecafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on myjacket,glad to have a use for it. My homework was done — the product of aslowsocial life — but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure Ihadright. I took out my book industriously, but halfway throughrecheckingthe first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlightplay on thered-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the marginsof myhomework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn fivepairsof dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them outwith theeraser.
  "Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike.
  I looked around to realize that the school had become populatedwhile I'dbeen sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts,some even inshorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mikewas comingtoward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.
  "Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morninglike this.
  He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden inthelight, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted toseeme, I couldn't help but feel gratified.
  "I never noticed before — your hair has red in it," hecommented,catching between his fingers a strand that was fluttering inthe lightbreeze.
  "Only in the sun."I became just a little uncomfortable as he tucked the lock behind my ear.
  "Great day, isn't it?""My kind of day," I agreed.
  "What did you do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary.
  "I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it —no need to sound smug.
  He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh yeah — that'sdueThursday, right?""Um, Wednesday, I think.""Wednesday?" He frowned."That's not good… What are you writing yours on?""Whether Shakespeare'streatment of the female characters ismisogynistic."He stared at me likeI'd just spoken in pig Latin.
  "I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," he said,deflated. "Iwas going to ask if you wanted to go out.""Oh." I was takenoff guard. Why couldn't I ever have a pleasantconversation with Mikeanymore without it getting awkward?
  "Well, we could go to dinner or something… and I could work on it later."He smiled at me hopefully.
  "Mike…" I hated being put on the spot. "I don't think that would bethebest idea."His face fell. "Why?" he asked, his eyes guarded. Mythoughts flickeredto Edward, wondering if that's where his thoughts wereas well.
  "I think… and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now Iwillcheerfully beat you to death," I threatened, "but I think that wouldhurtJessica's feelings."He was bewildered, obviously not thinking inthat direction at all.
  "Jessica?""Really, Mike, are you blind?""Oh," he exhaled — clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to make myescape.
  "It's time for class, and I can't be late again." I gathered my books upand stuffed them in my bag.
  We walked in silence to building three, and his expressionwasdistracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in wereleading himin the right direction.
  When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm.She,Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to godressshopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even thoughIdidn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out oftownwith some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew whatIcould be doing tonight… But that was definitely the wrong path to letmymind wander down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. Butthatwasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, notevenclose.
  So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first.
  She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish,continuing asif without an interruption when class finally ended, fiveminutes late,and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in myown frenzy ofanticipation to notice much of what she said. I waspainfully eager tosee not just him but all the Cullens — to compare themwith the newsuspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the thresholdof thecafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down myspine andsettle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I wasthinking? Andthen a different feeling jolted through me — would Edwardbe waiting tosit with me again?
  As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. Ashiver ofpanic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. Withdwindlinghope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to findhimalone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled — Spanish hadmade uslate — but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family.Desolationhit me with crippling strength.
  I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listenanymore.
  We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. Iavoided theempty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguelynoticedthat Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that herface litup in response.
  Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, whichIanswered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery.She,too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, graspingatanything to distract myself.
  I realized I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when IenteredBiology, saw his empty seat, and felt a new wave ofdisappointment.
  The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had alecture onthe rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up forme. But atleast it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumblingaround on thecourt. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I gotanother dayoff tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm mewith aracket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.
  I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mopebefore Iwent out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after Iwalked inthe door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel ourplans. I triedto be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner — Ireally was relievedthat he finally seemed to be catching on — but myenthusiasm soundedfalse in my own ears. She rescheduled our shoppingtrip for tomorrownight.
  Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I hadfishmarinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from thenightbefore, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused halfhour onhomework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked mye-mail,reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting snippieras theyprogressed to the present. I sighed and typed a quick response.
  Mom,Sorry. I've been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had towrite a paper.
  My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that.
  It's sunny outside today - I know, I'm shocked, too - so I'm goingto gooutside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. I love you,Bella.
  I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had asmallcollection of books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiestvolumebeing a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected thatone andheaded to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from thelinencupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.
  Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in halfandlaid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawnthatwould always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. Ilay onmy stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through thedifferentnovels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mindthe mostthoroughly. My favorites were Pride and Prejudice and SenseandSensibility. I'd read the first most recently, so I started intoSenseand Sensibility, only to remember after I began three that the heroofthe story happened to be named Edward. Angrily, I turned toMansfieldPark, but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that wasjust tooclose. Weren't there any other names available in the lateeighteenthcentury? I snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled overonto my back.
  I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed myeyes. Iwould think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myselfseverely.
  The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair aroundmyface, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head,lettingit fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heatthattouched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms,myneck, soaked through my light shirt…The next thing I was conscious ofwas the sound of Charlie's cruiserturning onto the bricks of thedriveway. I sat up in surprise, realizingthe light was gone, behind thetrees, and I had fallen asleep. I lookedaround, muddled, with the suddenfeeling that I wasn't alone.
  "Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of thehouse.
  I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and mybook. Iran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing thatdinnerwould be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and steppingout ofhis boots when I came in.
  "Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet — I fell asleep outside." I stifled ayawn.
  "Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score onthegame, anyway."I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for somethingto do. There wasn'tanything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn'tlike baseball, so heturned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of usenjoyed. He seemedhappy, though, to be doing something together. And itfelt good, despitemy depression, to make him happy.
  "Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going tolookat dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and theywantedme to help them choose… do you mind if I go with them?""JessicaStanley?" he asked.
  "And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave him the details.
  He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?""No,Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses — you know, givingthemconstructive criticism." I wouldn't have to explain this to a woman.
  "Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depthwith thegirlie stuff. "It's a school night, though.""We'll leave rightafter school, so we can get back early. You'll be okayfor dinner,right?""Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here,"hereminded me.
  "I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added moreclearly,"I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge,okay?
  Right on top."It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened withrenewed hope that Igrimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmerweather in a deep blueV-neck blouse — something I'd worn in the dead ofwinter in Phoenix.
  I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time tomake itto class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot lookingfor aspace, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearlynotthere. I parked in the last row and hurried to English,arrivingbreathless, but subdued, before the final bell.
  It was the same as yesterday — I just couldn't keep little sproutsofhope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully asIsearched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.
  The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made allthemore attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. Iwasanxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over myshoulder,hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he alwaysdid. Ivowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and notruinAngela's or Jessica's enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I coulddo alittle clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I mightbeshopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested intheearlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't cancel without at leasttellingme.After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury sothat Icould ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quicklywhen Iwas inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplatedgettingout of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explainingagainwhere to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet from my school bagto apurse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went toAngela'shouse next, and she was waiting for us. My excitementincreasedexponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.
第七章 梦魇
我告诉查理我有很多作业要做,什么也不想吃。电视上正在直播一场让他情绪激昂的篮球赛——尽管理所当然地,我根本不知道精彩在那里。所以,他完全没有注意到我的表情或是语气有什么不对劲。
一进房间,我就把门锁上了。我在书桌里一阵乱翻,直到找到我的旧耳机为止。我把它们塞进了我的小随身听的插孔里,然后选了一张圣诞节时菲尔送给我的CD。这是他最喜欢的乐队之一,但就我的品味而言,他们歌里的低吼和尖叫用得有点太多了。我啪地一下把它放进随身听,然后躺倒在床上。我戴上耳机,按下播放键,把声音调大到让我的耳朵刺痛为止。我闭上眼睛,但还是觉得太亮了,于是我又加了一个枕头,压在脸上。(原文是脸的上半部。。。外国人好精确。。。)
我专心致志地听着歌,试图听懂那些歌词,弄懂那些复杂的鼓点和节拍。当我听着这张CD听第三遍的时候,至少,我已经知道合唱部分的所有歌词了。我惊奇地发现,当我忽略那些嘈杂的噪音时,我真的喜欢上这支乐队了。我得再次感谢菲尔。
这很有效。毁灭性的节拍让我没办法思考——这正是我要这样练习的所有意图。我一遍又一遍地听着这张CD,直到我能唱出里面所有的歌,直到,最后,我终于沉沉睡去。
我睁开了眼睛,发现自己在一个熟悉的地方。我的意识里的某些部分告诉我自己正在做梦。我认出了这座森林里的绿光。我能听到,在附近的某个地方,海浪正在撞击着岩礁。我知道,如果我能找到海,我就能看见太阳。我试图循声找去,但这时候,雅克布?布莱克出现了。他拽着我的手,拖着我向森林里最幽暗的地方走去。
“雅克布?怎么了?”我问道。他的脸上写满了恐惧,他拉着我,用尽全身的力气来制止我的反抗。我不想走进黑暗中。
“跑,贝拉,你得跑!”他恐惧地低声说道。
“这边,贝拉!”我认出了迈克的声音,那是从树林里黑暗的中心传来的。但我看不见他。
“为什么?”我问道,依然反抗着雅克布的紧握,渴望着去寻找太阳。
但雅克布放开了我的手,大叫着,忽然倒在了森林中灰扑扑的地面上。他躺在地上,抽搐着,我惊恐地看着他。
“雅克布!”我尖叫起来。但他不见了。在他的位置上出现了一只巨大的红棕色的狼,眼睛是黑色的。那只狼转过身去背对着我,冲着海岸的方向。他背上的毛发全都竖了起来,低低的嚎叫声从他露出的尖牙间传出来。
“贝拉,跑!”迈克又一次在我身后大声喊着。但我没有跑。我看见一道光从海滩那边向着我过来了。
然后,爱德华从树林中走出来。他的肌肤微微发着光,他的双眸漆黑而危险。他举起一只手,示意我到他那里去。狼在我的脚边咆哮着。
我向着爱德华的方向,向前迈了一步。于是他微笑起来,露出尖锐锋利的牙齿。
“相信我。”他愉快地低声说道。
我又踏了一步。
那匹狼让自己横亘在了我和吸血鬼之间的空地上,尖牙瞄准了他的颈动脉。
“不!”我尖叫着,猛地从床上弹起来。
我的忽然移动让耳机把随身听扯下了桌子,咔哒一声落到了地板上。
灯还开着,我和衣坐在床上,连鞋都没脱。我迷惑地张望着,看见了梳妆台上的时钟。现在是早上五点半。
我呻吟着,倒回床上,翻个身变成趴着的姿势,把靴子给踢掉了。但是,我太难受了,连睡觉的边缘都够不着(根本睡不着)。我又翻过身来,拉开牛仔裤的拉连,平躺着很不雅观地把裤子脱掉。我能感觉到我的发辫在脑袋后面拱成了一个很不舒服的小包。我转过头,把橡胶圈扯下来,用手指很快地梳了几下头发。我把枕头拉回来,压到我的眼睛上。
当然,一切都毫无作用。我的潜意识把我拼命想要忘掉的画面发掘出来。现在,我不得不面对它们了。
我坐起来,头晕目眩了一会儿,血液才开始向下涌动。重要的事先做,我自忖着,很高兴能把这件事尽可能地往后推。我抓起了我的洗漱包。
但是,沐浴并没有像我所希望的那样耗时间。尽管花了不少时间吹干头发,我还是很快把在浴室里能做的事都做完了。我裹上一块浴巾,走回我的房间。我说不准查理是还在睡呢,还是已经出去了。我走到窗前看出去,发现巡逻车已经开走了。又开始钓鱼了。
我慢慢地穿上自己最舒适的汗衫,(sweats。。。贝拉。。。你真的是老气横秋啊。。。)把床铺好——我很少这样做的。我再也不能把这事往后推了。我走到书桌前,打开了我的旧电脑。
我讨厌在这里上网。我的调制解调器相当过时了,我的免费上网服务完全在标准之下。光是拨号就得花上很长一段时间,所以在等待的时候,我决定先去给自己弄一碗麦片粥。
我吃得很慢,每一口都细细咀嚼。吃完以后,我把碗和勺子洗好,擦干,然后放回去。上楼时我故意磨磨蹭蹭地拖着步子走路。我先走向我的随身听,把它从地上捡起来,精确地放到桌子正中央。我把耳机拔下来,放回抽屉里。然后我把原来那张CD公放,把声音调低到刚刚好能成为背景音乐的那个点上。
我又叹了口气,这才转向我的电脑。自然,屏幕上全是弹窗广告。我坐到我那张硬邦邦的扶手椅上,开始把所有的小窗口关掉。最后,我打开了我最喜欢的搜索引擎。我又关掉了另外几个弹窗广告,然后键入了一个词。
吸血鬼。
当然,这花了简直让人气愤的相当长的时间。当结果出来的时候,还有很多内容需要进行筛选——那些内容从电影电视节目到角色扮演游戏,黑市金属,以及哥特妆伴游。(company也可能是公司。。。)
然后,我发现了一个看上去比较可信的网址——吸血鬼A-Z。我迫不及待地等着它打开页面,飞快地关闭屏幕上一闪而过的每个广告。最后,整个屏幕都清空了——简洁的白色背景和黑色标题,看上去很有学术氛围。主页上的两段引述首先映入了我的眼帘。
“自始至终,那个属于幽灵与恶魔的浩瀚的黑暗世界根本没有那么可怕,根本没有那么令人畏惧和憎恶,只是经过了太多充满恐惧的幻想的修饰。正如吸血鬼,他既不属于幽灵,也不属于恶魔,但还是带着几份着黑暗的本质,兼有着那两者的神秘与恐怖的特质。——蒙塔古?萨默斯”(《吸血鬼传奇》的作者,公认的吸血鬼研究专家)
“如果这个世界上有一份屡经证实的报告,那一定是关于吸血鬼的。没有任何东西能被遗漏掉:官方报道,知情者的口供,外科医生的证明,牧师的证词,法官的证言。所有司法上的证据都完备了。但是,即使知道这一切,有人会相信吸血鬼的存在吗?——卢梭”
余下部分是一张依字母表排列的清单,囊括了全世界所有关于吸血鬼的各种各样的传说。我首先点开了“丹拿”,这是一种菲律宾的吸血鬼,很多年以前是负责在岛上种植芋头的。这个传说里讲到,丹拿为人类工作了很多年,直到有一天,这样的合作关系却破裂了。一个女人不小心切到了手指,而一个丹拿为她吮吸伤口,因为觉得滋味太好了,最后它把她体内所有的血都喝干了。
我仔细地阅读这些描述,寻找任何听着觉得熟悉的内容,把那些说得天花乱坠的部分丢到一边。似乎大多数的吸血鬼传说都围绕着漂亮女人和小孩子展开,前者通常是恶魔,后者通常是受害者。它们似乎都是被捏造出来用来解释年幼的孩子居高不下的夭折率,或是给男人一个放纵的借口。许多故事包括了无形体的灵魂以及对不合乎礼法的葬礼的警告。没有多少听起来像是我看过的电影的内容,只有一小部分,像是希伯来的艾斯提瑞和波兰的乌皮尔,是一心吸血的吸血鬼。
(引用一下接力的注释:艾斯提瑞(Estrie),貌似吸血鬼的恶灵,喜欢小孩儿。乌皮尔(Upier),舌头上有尖刺,外形恐怖,嗜血如狂。就算正在熟睡,闻到血的味道也会立即从坟墓中跳出来。)
只有三个条目真正地吸引了我的注意力:罗马尼亚的维拉可拉斯,一个强大的不死生物,通常以俊美的、肌肤苍白的人类形态出现;斯洛伐克的耐拉斯,一种极其强壮,速度奇快的生物,午夜之后它能在一个小时之内屠杀掉整个村子的人;还有一个,斯特岗尼亚,有益的吸血鬼,关于最后这个吸血鬼的描述只有一个简短的句子。
斯特岗尼亚,有益的吸血鬼:一种意大利吸血鬼,据说是美德的保护者,是所有邪恶吸血鬼最致命的敌人。
这个短短的传说实在是一种宽慰,在上百条传说之中,这是仅有的宣称存在着有好的吸血鬼的一条。
但是,总的说来,这里没有太多内容和雅克布的故事或者我的观察结果有关。我一边看,一边在心里列了一份小小的列表,用来跟每条传说逐一对比。速度,强壮,美丽,苍白的肌肤,会变色的眼睛,还有雅克布的标准:饮血者,狼人的天敌,冰冷的肌肤,以及永恒的生命。没有多少传说能符合至少一个的因素。
还有另一个问题。我记得在我看过的寥寥无几的恐怖电影里提到过,再加上我今天所看的内容——吸血鬼不能在白天出没,阳光会把他们烧成灰烬的。白天他们都睡在棺材里面,只在夜里出来活动。
一气之下,我啪地一下关掉了电脑的电源,不想再干等着按部就班地关闭电脑。在怒火之外,我更感到了压倒性的窘迫。这一切都太愚蠢了。我居然坐在自己的房间里,搜索着吸血鬼。我到底是怎么了?我决定把大部分的指责归咎于福克斯镇的门槛——还有整个湿漉漉的奥林匹克半岛。
我迫切地想要离开这所房子,但任何我想去的地方都得开上三天的车才能到。无论如何,我还是穿上靴子,漫无目的地走下楼。我甚至没有看看天气,就直接套上了我的雨衣,重重地踏着步子走出门外。
天阴沉沉的,但没在下雨。我不去理会自己的卡车,徒步向东面走去,斜穿过查理的院子走向我此前从未涉足过的森林。没花多长时间我就走进了丛林深处,走到无论是从房子里还是从马路上都已经看不到的地方。唯一的声音是来自我脚下的湿土的吱嘎声,还有突如其来的松鸦的叫声。
一条窄窄的羊肠小道穿过密林延伸到这里,否则我不会冒着让自己迷路的风险走到这里来。我的方向感向来让人绝望:要是周遭有助于认路的信息再少一点,我就必定要迷路了。这条小径蜿蜒着伸向密林里更深处,就我所知,总体上是一路向东延伸。它曲折着绕过一棵棵西德加云杉和铁杉,一棵棵紫杉和枫木。我只是隐约知道自己周围的树的名字,而我知道的这一切都得归功于查理。更早些的时候,他曾在巡逻车里为我指出窗外这些树的名字。这里有许多我不认识的树,还有有一些树我没法确认,因为它们都覆盖在了密密麻麻的绿色藤蔓植物下。
我的怒气推着我往前走,于是我一直沿着小路走去。直到愤怒开始褪去,我才放慢了脚步。点点水滴从我头顶上的天穹潺潺而下,但我不能肯定是开始下雨了,还是纯粹是昨天雨后留在我头上高处的树叶丛中的积水,正在慢慢地滴落下来,完成它们归于尘土的旅程。一棵新倒伏下来的大树——我认为它很新是因为它还没有完全被苔藓覆盖住——斜倚在她的姐妹们的树干上,形成了一个掩蔽的小长椅,离小径只有安全的几英尺高。我踩过一片蕨类植物,小心地坐下来,确保我的夹克隔在了那个潮湿的座椅和相应的衣服之间。然后,我把戴着兜帽的头靠在那棵活着的树上。
我来错地方了,我应该早就知道的,但我还能去哪里呢?这个森林如此苍翠,太像昨晚的梦境了,我没法让自己的心绪保持宁静。既然这里已经不会再有我沉闷的脚步声了,这片沉寂就更加显得讽刺。鸟儿也安静下来了。滴水逐渐变得频繁起来,所以森林上空一定在下雨。那片蕨类植物高得比我还高,因为我是坐着的,所以我知道即使有人从三英尺外的小径上经过,也不会看见我的。(我又犯了个错误,之前的翻译应该是说那棵天然树椅离小路只有几英尺远,所以很安全,不会让贝拉迷路。)
我强迫自己把注意力集中在两个最重要的,我必须解决的问题上,但我实在很不情愿这样做。
首先,我必须作出判断,有没有这种可能,即雅克布所说的关于卡伦一家的事是真的。
我的心立刻作出了强烈的否定回答。用这么荒谬的想法来取乐既愚蠢又神经(痴线…)。但是,那又怎样呢?没有一个合理的解释能说明为什么此时此刻我还活着。我又一次在脑海中列出我自己观察到的东西:不可思议的速度和强壮,从黑色变成金色然后又变回来的眸色,超越常人的美丽,苍白冰冷的肌肤。还有更多——一件件小事慢慢地显露出来——譬如他们似乎从不吃东西,他们的举止优雅地惊人。还有有时候他们说话的方式,那种陌生的抑扬顿挫和遣词用句更适合于一本另一个世纪的小说的风格,而非二十一世纪的教室。我们检测血型那天他翘课了。他一直没说不去海滩之旅,直到他听到我们要去的地方。他似乎知道他周围的每个人都在想些什么……除了我。他告诉过我他是坏人,非常危险……
卡伦一家有可能是吸血鬼吗?
嗯,他们确实是某种东西。某种在合理判断的可能性之外的事情正在我明察秋毫的眼睛前发生着。不管是雅克布所说的冷族还是我自己的超级英雄论,爱德华?卡伦都不会是……人类。他是某种超越人类的存在。
那么——或许吧。这就是我现在能得出的结论。
另一个问题尤为重要。如果这是真的,我要怎么做?
如果爱德华真的是一个吸血鬼——我很难让自己去想这个词——我该怎么办?让别人牵连进来显然是不行的。我甚至不敢相信自己。不管我告诉谁,我都得承担相应的责任。
只有两个选项似乎比较有可行性。第一个是听取他的建议:聪明点,离他远远的。取消我们的计划,回到尽可能无视他的状态。当我们被迫坐在一起上课的时候,假装我们之间有一堵无法穿透的,厚厚的玻璃墙。告诉他离自己远点——而且这一次要表现出来。
当我思考着这个选择的时候,我忽然陷入了一种绝望的痛苦之中。我的心抗拒着这种痛苦,迅速跳到下一个选项。
我什么也不用做。毕竟,就算他是某种……危险的存在,至今他也没做什么伤害我的事。事实上,如果他的动作不是那么快的话,我本来会成为泰勒的挡泥板下的一道凹痕的。这么快,我和自己争论着,这绝对反映了一些问题。但如果这种反映是用来拯救生命的,他能有多坏?我反驳着。我的脑子徒劳无功地转着。
如果我能肯定什么事的话,有一件事情我很肯定。昨晚我梦里的那个黑暗的爱德华只是我对雅克布所说的话而产生的恐惧的表现,并非爱德华本人。虽然如此,当我因为狼人的进攻而惊恐地尖叫出声的时候,我也不是因为害怕狼而从嘴里喊出了“不”。我只是害怕着他可能会受伤——即使他露出锋利的尖牙呼唤着我,我也在为他担心着。
然后我知道,我已经得出答案了。我甚至不知道这里面是否真的有过一个抉择。我已经陷得太深了。我知道——如果我真的知道的话——对于我这个吓人的秘密,我什么也不会做的。因为每当我想起他,想起他的声音,他能够催眠的眼睛,他极具吸引力的个人魅力的时候,我只想立刻和他在一起,除此之外便别无所求了。即使……但我不能再想下去了。不能在这里,独自一人待在越来越黑的森林里想。不能在这个时候,不能在雨水让天边的暮色变得黯淡,滴滴答答的声音就像走过铺着瓷砖的地板的脚步声的时候想。我颤抖着,赶快从我的隐蔽之所站起来,担心着那条小路也许会消失在雨中。
但它仍在那里,安全又清晰,蜿蜒着穿过那片湿漉漉的绿色迷宫。我慌忙沿着小路走回去,我的兜帽拉得很低,垂在我的脸旁。我开始惊慌起来,几乎是跑着穿过树林,因为我觉得已经走了像来时那么远的距离了。我开始怀疑自己是不是已经冲过头了,又或者是沿着小路走到了森林里更远的地方。但在我变得更加惊慌失措以前,透过密密麻麻像蜘蛛网一样的树枝,我隐约能瞥见一些开阔地了。然后我听到了一辆车穿过街道的声音,我自由了。查理的草坪出现在我的面前,那所房子在召唤着我,许诺着温暖以及干燥的袜子。
我走回屋里的时候刚好是正午。我走上楼,换上这一天的装束——牛仔裤和T恤衫——因为我会一直待在家里。全力以赴解决今天的任务不会花上太多的工夫,只是一份周三截止的关于麦克白的论文而已。我心满意足地投入工作,罗列出了一份粗略的草稿。这份宁静的心境是我许久没有感受过的,自从……好吧,自从周四下午以后,如果我足够诚实的话。
不过,这通常是我的风格。做决定对我来说是一个痛苦的过程,一个让我饱受煎熬的过程。不过一旦我作出了决定,我就只会坚持到底——通常还会因为已经做出了选择而倍感宽慰。有时这种宽慰会被失望所破坏,正如我来福克斯的决定。但这仍比为作出选择而苦苦斟酌要好得多。
现在带着这个决定住下来要容易多了,荒谬可笑的容易。危机重重的容易。(梅尔实在是言简意赅字字珠玑。。。但我翻到几乎要吐血了。。。)
这一天就这样平静地过去了,而且效率很高——我在八点前就把论文写完了。查理到家的时候简直就是大丰收。我做了一个备忘录,提醒自己下周到西雅图去的时候记得买一本烹鱼食谱。无论何时我一想到这趟旅程,一阵寒意就会飞快地掠过我的脊柱。(不禁打了一个激灵)但这和我跟雅克布?布莱克散步以前所感到过的寒意没什么不同。我想,它们本来应该有所不同的。我本来应该觉得害怕——我知道我应该这样做的,但我确实感觉不到这种正确的恐惧感。
那天夜里我一夜无梦,睡得很好。因为那一天我起得太早,前一天晚上又睡得太少,耗尽了我的精力。这是我到福克斯以后的第二次,在一个晴朗的早上,在明黄色的光线中醒来。我跳到窗前,惊奇地发现天空里甚至没有半点云影,只有几片小小的羊毛般纯白蓬松的云彩,它们根本不可能带来任何雨水。我推开窗子,惊讶地发现当它打开的时候相当安静,完全没有卡住,一点儿也不像谁知道多少年没开过的样子。(从这里我们可以知道,Edward早就开始夜夜探香闺了。。。)我深吸了一口相对比较干爽的空气。外面很暖和,一丝风也没有。我的血液在血管里沸腾着。
当我下楼的时候,查理已经吃完早餐了,他立刻领会到了我的心情。
“适合外出的好天气。”他评价道。(Nice day out,在翻完无数的景色描写和心理活动以后,我对说话一向简洁的查理感激涕零。。。)
“是的。”我露齿一笑,赞同道。
他冲我一笑,棕色的眼睛弯成了两道弧线。当查理微笑的时候,很容易就能看出来为什么当初他和我妈会闪电般地早婚。那段日子里他曾有过的年轻人的浪漫,大部分在我记事以前就消失殆尽了。正如他卷曲的棕发——和我一样的颜色,即使质地有所不同——已经开始减少了,渐渐显露出越来越多的前额上发亮的肌肤。但当他微笑的时候,我依然可以看到那个和蕾妮一起私奔的男人的影子,那时候她只比我现在大两岁。
我兴高采烈地吃着早餐,看着点点纤尘在从后窗射入的阳光里轻舞飞扬。查理喊了一声再见,然后我听到了巡逻车开走的声音。出门的时候我拿着我的防水夹克,犹豫了一下。把它留在家里是个诱人却关乎命运的举措。我叹了口气,把它搭在手臂上,走进了数月以来我见过的最明媚的阳光里。
靠着肘部脂肪的力量,我终于能够把卡车里的每扇窗子都差不多完全摇了下来。我是第一个到学校的。我甚至没有看一眼时钟,就急急忙忙地出门了。我把车停好,径直走向自助餐厅南面的那些很少用到的野餐长凳。那些长凳还有点潮,所以我坐在了我的夹克上,为有机会用到它而高兴着。我的作业已经做完了——慢节奏社交生活的产物——但还有几道三角函数题我不能肯定自己做对了。我勤奋地拿出了书,但在检查第一道题的时候就中途停了下来,开始神游太虚,注视着在红色树皮的树顶上跃动着的阳光。我一时大意,在我的家庭作业的空白处画起速写来。几分钟以后,我才忽然注意到,自己画了五双黑色的眼睛,都在纸上盯着我看。我用橡皮擦把它们完全擦掉了。
“贝拉!”我听到某人在喊我,听起来像是迈克。
我抬起头看四周,这才发觉在我心不在焉地坐在这里的时候,学校里已经挤满了人。每个人都穿着T恤衫,有些人甚至还穿着短袖衫,尽管气温最多不超过六十华氏度。迈克向我走过来,一路挥着手,他穿着卡其色的短袖衫,套在一件条纹橄榄球衫外。
“嗨,迈克。”我喊着,向他挥手。我不能在这样一个早晨表现得毫无兴致。
他走过来坐到我身旁,梳得整整齐齐的头发在阳光里闪闪发亮。他张大嘴笑着。只是见到我就能让他这样高兴,我无法不感到满足。
“我之前从没注意到过——你的头发带着些红影。”他评价道,手指间抓着的一股细线在微风中轻轻摆动着。
“只在太阳下会这样。”
当他捋平我耳后的一缕头发时,我开始有些不安起来。
“好天气,不是吗?”
“我喜欢的天气。”我赞同道。
“你昨天都在做什么?”他的语气有点儿像是在过问自己的所有物的情况。(a bit too proprietary。。。)
“我几乎都在写我的论文。”我没有补充说我已经完成了——没有必然让自己显得是在炫耀。
他用手背拍了一下额头。“哦,是的——那是在周四截止,对吧?”
“呃,我想,应该是周三。”
“周三?”他皱起眉。“大事不妙……你的题目是什么?”
“莎士比亚对待女性角色的态度是否是厌恶女性的表现。”
他盯着我,就好像我刚刚在说隐语一样。(pig Latin。。。具体内容大家自己google一下吧,我就不再赘述了)
“我想我今晚就得着手写论文了。”他泄气地说道。“我本来还想问你愿不愿意出去逛逛呢。”
“哦。”我卸下了防备。为什么我每次跟迈克愉快的谈话都得以尴尬告终呢?
“嗯,我们可以一起吃晚餐,或者……我可以晚些再写论文。”他满怀希望地向我微笑着。
“迈克……”我不喜欢被置于这种处境。“我不认为这是一个好主意。”
他拉下脸来。“为什么?”他问道,眼里充满了警惕。我飞快地想起了爱德华,怀疑着这是否恰好也是他所想到的。
“我觉得……如果你敢立刻重复我所说的话,我会很乐意弄死你的。”我威胁道。“但我觉得这会伤害杰西卡的感情。”
他完全不知所措,显然根本没有往这方面想。“杰西卡?”
“真的,迈克,你是瞎子吗?”
“哦。”他轻呼道——显然还在迷惑着。我利用这一点,让自己脱身。
“上课的时间到了,我不能再迟到了。”我把书收起来,塞进包里。
我们沉默着向三号楼走去,他一脸的心烦意乱。我希望不管让他陷入沉思的内容是什么,最好都能把他领到正确的方向上去。
当我在三角函数课上看见杰西卡时,她正热切地说个不停。她,安吉拉还有劳伦准备今晚去天使港买舞会上穿的礼服,而且她希望我也去,尽管我并不需要买。我迟疑着。和几个小女友一起到镇外去是件好事,可劳伦也在。而且谁知道我今晚能做什么……但显然是那条错误的小路让我的心思徘徊不定的。当然,我喜欢阳光。但这并非是我心情愉快的全部原因,事实上,根本就不沾边。
所以我只给了她一个模棱两可的答复,告诉她我得先问问查理。
去上西班牙语课的时候,她一直滔滔不绝地说着舞会的事,无暇谈及其他,甚至直到上完课的时候都没停下来过。五分钟后,我们去吃午餐。我完全沉浸在自己疯狂的渴望之中,几乎没怎么注意到她说了什么。我痛苦地渴望着见到他,但不只是他,还有所有的卡伦家的孩子——把他们和折磨着我的头脑的猜疑一一对比。当我穿过自助餐厅的入口时,我第一次真切地感受到了一阵恐惧的刺痛滑过我的脊柱,落到我的胃里。他们能知道我在想什么吗?然后,另一种完全不同的感觉颠覆着我——爱德华会再次等着和我坐到一起吗?
如同例行公事一样,我第一眼便向卡伦家的桌子看去。当我意识到它是空的时,一阵恐惧的颤抖在我的胃里翻腾着。带着越来越渺茫的希望,我的眼睛搜索着自助餐厅的余下部分,希望能看见他独自坐着,等着我。到处都坐满了人——西班牙语课让我们来晚了——却没有任何爱德华或者他的某个家人的影子。一种无力的荒凉感袭击了我。
我蹒跚着走在杰西卡后面,不再费神假装在听她说话了。
我们来得太晚了,我们桌子上的人几乎都到齐了。我避开迈克旁边的那张空椅子,更青睐安吉拉旁边那张。我隐约留意到迈克彬彬有礼地为杰西卡拉开椅子,她的脸立刻容光焕发。
安吉拉安静地问了几个关于那篇《麦克白》的论文的问题,我尽可能答得正常些,尽管此时我正盘旋着落入绝望的深渊。她也邀请我今晚和她们一起去,而我立刻答应了,想要抓住任何能让我分心的事。
当我走进生物教室的时候,我意识到自己怀着最后一线希望。但在看到他空空的座位以后,新一轮的失望向我涌来。
这一天剩下的时间过得漫长又沉默。体育课上,我们要听羽毛球的规则讲演,这是排着队等着我的又一次煎熬。但至少,这意味着我可以坐下来听课,而不是在庭院里到处被绊到。最好的部分是教练没能讲完,所以明天我又将逃过一劫。在我从余下的课里解放出来以前,我根本不去在乎后天他们就要让我拿上球拍了。
我很高兴能离开学校,这样我就能在今晚陪着杰西卡出去以前自由自在地发脾气和意志消沉了。但正当我走进查理家大门的时候,杰西卡打电话来取消了我们的计划。我试图为迈克邀请她出去吃晚餐感到高兴——我确实为他最终明白过来而感到宽慰——但我热切的声音在我自己耳中显得很假。她把我们的购物之旅顺延到了明天晚上。
这就让我几乎没有了可以分心的事。我把鱼放进调味汁里腌好,又做了一个沙拉,再加上昨天晚上剩下的面包,晚餐就准备好了,再也没有什么事可做了。我花了半小时专心致志地写作业,但又把作业给写完了。我检查自己的电子邮件,看着积攒下来的我母亲发来的邮件,时间越靠后的语气越显暴躁。我叹了口气,打了一封简短的回复。
“妈妈,
抱歉。我出去了。我和几个朋友一起去了海滩。而且我还有一份论文要写。”
我的借口听起来相当地可悲,所以我放弃了,换成了下面这封。
“今天外面晴朗极了——我知道,我也很震惊——所以我打算到外面去,尽可能地多吸收一些维生素D。我爱你。
贝拉”
我决定用课外阅读来打发掉一个小时的时间。在我来福克斯的时候我随身带了一些藏书,其中最残破的那一册是简?奥斯丁的作品集。(英雄所见略同。。。)我挑出那本书,向后院走去,下楼的时候顺手从楼梯顶上的亚麻布衣橱里抓了一条破旧的褥子。 在查理小小的,四四方方的庭院里,我把那条褥子对叠了一下,把它放到树阴之外的草坪上。不管阳光照射多久,那块草坪永远都是微微湿润着的。我趴下来,把脚踝在空中交叠,飞快地浏览着书里的每一篇小时,试图决定哪一篇最能让我沉


伊墨君

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Chapter 6
   As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act ofMacbeth, Iwas really listening for my truck. I would have thought, evenover thepounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when Iwent topeek out the curtain — again — it was suddenly there.
  I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up tomynon-expectations. Of course there were the fainting comments.Jessicaespecially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mikehad kepthis mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward'sinvolvement. Shedid have a lot of questions about lunch, though.
  "So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.
  "I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point.""You looked kind of mad," she fished.
  "Did I?" I kept my expression blank.
  "You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before.
  That was weird.""Weird," I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flippedher dark curlsimpatiently — I guessed she'd been hoping to hearsomething that wouldmake a good story for her to pass on.
  The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn'tgoingto be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria withJessicaand Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at his table, whereRosalie,Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And Icouldn't stopthe gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn't know howlong I wouldhave to wait before I saw him again.
  At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day.Mikewas animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the localweathermanwho promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before Ibelieved it. Butit was warmer today — almost sixty. Maybe the outingwouldn't becompletely miserable.
  I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch,which Ididn't understand until we were all walking out of the roomtogether. Iwas right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silverblond hair, andshe was evidently unaware of that.
  "…don't know why Bella" — she sneered my name — "doesn't just sitwiththe Cullens from now on."I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd nevernoticed what an unpleasant,nasal voice she had, and I was surprised bythe malice in it. I reallydidn't know her well at all, certainly notwell enough for her to dislikeme — or so I'd thought. "She's my friend;she sits with us," Mikewhispered back loyally, but also a bitterritorially. I paused to letJess and Angela pass me. I didn't want tohear any more.
  That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip toLaPush in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home aloneonthe weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits tobreakthem now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, andtheirparents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemedtoapprove. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride toSeattlewith Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.
  "Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? Ithink it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.
  "Yeah — why?"I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about campingthere.""It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised."Too manybears. Most people go there during the hunting season.""Oh," Imurmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."I meant to sleep in, but anunusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyesto see a clear yellow lightstreaming through my window. I couldn'tbelieve it. I hurried to thewindow to check, and sure enough, there wasthe sun. It was in the wrongplace in the sky, too low, and it didn'tseem to be as close as it shouldbe, but it was definitely the sun.
  Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visiblein themiddle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid thatif Ileft the blue would disappear again.
  The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'dseenthe store, but I'd never stopped there — not having much need foranysupplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time.Inthe parking lot I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. AsIpulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standingaroundin front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two otherboys I hadclass with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner.Jess wasthere, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stoodwith them,including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. Thatone gaveme a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and whisperedsomething toLauren. Lauren shook out her cornsilk hair and eyed mescornfully.
  So it was going to be one of those days.
  At least Mike was happy to see me.
  "You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today,didn't I?""I told you I was coming," I reminded him.
  "We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone,"Mike added.
  "Nope," I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn't get caught in the lie.But alsowishing that a miracle would occur, and Edward would appear.
  Mike looked satisfied.
  "Will you ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan.""Sure."He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.
  "You can have shotgun," he promised. I hid my chagrin. It wasn'tassimple to make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time. I couldseeJessica glowering at us now.
  The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two extrapeople,and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess inbetweenMike and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could havebeen moregraceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.
  It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous,densegreen forests edging the road most of the way and the wideQuillayuteRiver snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the windowseat. We'drolled the windows down — the Suburban was a bitclaustrophobic with ninepeople in it — and I tried to absorb as muchsunlight as possible.
  I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forkssummerswith Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach wasfamiliar tome. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, evenin thesunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore.Islands roseout of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides,reaching to unevensummits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs. Thebeach had only athin border of actual sand at the water's edge, afterwhich it grew intomillions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformlygray from adistance, but close up were every shade a stone could be:terra-cotta,sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line wasstrewn withhuge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves,some piledtogether against the edge of the forest fringe, some lyingsolitary, justout of reach of the waves.
  There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny.Pelicansfloated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeledabove them.
  The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at anymoment,but for now the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.
  We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to aring ofdriftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like oursbefore.
  There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes.Ericand the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches ofdriftwoodfrom the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon hadateepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.
  "Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sittingonone of the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered,gossipingexcitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire,lighting oneof the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.
  "No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.
  "You'll like this then — watch the colors." He lit another smallbranchand laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lickquickly upthe dry wood.
  "It's blue," I said in surprise.
  "The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placeditwhere the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me.Thankfully,Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed hisattention.
  I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.
  After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike tothenearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved thetidepools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one oftheonly things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. Ontheother hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal whenyou'reseven and with your dad. It reminded me of Edward's request — thatI notfall into the ocean.
  Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want tohike,and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of theothergirls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach aswell. Iwaited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with thembefore Igot up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a hugesmilewhen he saw that I was coming.
  The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods.
  The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with theadolescentlaughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with thelight banteraround me. I had to watch each step I took very carefully,avoiding rootsbelow and branches above, and I soon fell behind.Eventually I brokethrough the emerald confines of the forest and foundthe rocky shoreagain. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past uson its way tothe sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that nevercompletelydrained were teeming with life.
  I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little oceanponds. Theothers were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perchingprecariously onthe edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on thefringe of one of thelargest pools and sat there cautiously, spellboundby the naturalaquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemonesundulatedceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurriedabout theedges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuckmotionless to therocks and each other, while one small black eel withwhite racing stripeswove through the bright green weeds, waiting for thesea to return. I wascompletely absorbed, except for one small part ofmy mind that wonderedwhat Edward was doing now, and trying to imaginewhat he would be sayingif he were here with me.
  Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow themback. Itried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturallyI fella few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and theknees of myjeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.
  When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behindhadmultiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straightblackhair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from thereservationcome to socialize.
  The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried toclaim ashare while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwoodcircle.
  Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names,Inoticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up atmein interest. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought ussandwichesand an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who lookedto be theoldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the sevenothers withhim. All I caught was that one of the girls was also namedJessica, andthe boy who noticed me was named Jacob.
  It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind ofperson tobe around — she didn't feel the need to fill every silence withchatter.
  She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I wasthinkingabout how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in ablur attimes, with single images standing out more clearly than others.Andthen, at other times, every second was significant, etched in mymind. Iknew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.
  During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across theblue sky,darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadowsacross thebeach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating,people startedto drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to theedge of thewaves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Othersweregathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike — withJessicashadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village. Some ofthelocal kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By thetimethey all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log,withLauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someonehadthought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perchedaroundthe circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy whohadacted as spokesperson.
  A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob saunteredover totake her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, andhadlong, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the napeof hisneck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyesweredark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still hadjusta hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, averypretty face. However, my positive opinion of his looks was damagedby thefirst words out of his mouth.
  "You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"It was like the first day of school all over again.
  "Bella," I sighed.
  "I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture."Youbought my dad's truck.""Oh," I said, relieved, shaking his sleekhand. "You're Billy's son. Iprobably should remember you.""No, I'm theyoungest of the family — you would remember my oldersisters.""Rachel andRebecca," I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrownus together alot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. Wewere all tooshy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kickedup enoughtantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.
  "Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if Iwould recognize them now.
  "No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship toWashingtonState, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer — she lives inHawaii now.""Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a littleover a yearolder than I was.
  "So how do you like the truck?" he asked.
  "I love it. It runs great.""Yeah, but it's really slow," helaughed. "I was so relived when Charliebought it. My dad wouldn't let mework on building another car when wehad a perfectly good vehicle rightthere.""It's not that slow," I objected.
  "Have you tried to go over sixty?""No," I admitted.
  "Good. Don't." He grinned.
  I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offeredin my truck's defense.
  "I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed withanother laugh.
  "So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.
  "When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to knowwhere Icould get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 VolkswagenRabbit?" headded jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.
  "Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep myeyesopen for you." As if I knew what that was. He was very easy to talkwith.
  He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a wayI waslearning to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.
  "You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked — in what I imagined was aninsolent tone — from across the fire.
  "We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling atme again.
  "How nice." She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and herpale, fishy eyes narrowed.
  "Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was justsayingto Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come outtoday.
  Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her expression of concern wasunconvincing.
  "You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy askedbeforeI could respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He was really closerto aman than a boy, and his voice was very deep.
  "Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfwaytoward him.
  "The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject,ignoring her question.
  Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CDhe held. She was distracted.
  I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was lookingawaytoward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn'tcomehere, but his tone had implied something more — that theyweren'tallowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strangeimpression onme, and I tried to ignore it without success.
  Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insaneyet?""Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. Hegrinnedunderstandingly.
  I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and Ihad asudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have anybetterideas. I hoped that young Jacob was as yet inexperienced aroundgirls, sothat he wouldn't see through my sure-to-be-pitiful attempts atflirting.
  "Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked, trying toimitatethat way Edward had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes.Itcouldn't have nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jacob jumpedupwillingly enough.
  As we walked north across the multihued stones toward thedriftwoodseawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky,causing the seato darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my handsdeep into thepockets of my jacket.
  "So you're, what, sixteen?" I asked, trying not to look like anidiot asI fluttered my eyelids the way I'd seen girls do on TV.
  "I just turned fifteen," he confessed, flattered.
  "Really?" My face was full of false surprise. "I would have thought youwere older.""I'm tall for my age," he explained.
  "Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked archly, as if I was hopingfor ayes. I sounded idiotic to myself. I was afraid he would turn on mewithdisgust and accuse me of my fraud, but he still seemed flattered.
  "Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my carfinishedI can go up as much as I want — after I get my license," heamended.
  "Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a littleold tobe hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in withtheyoungsters, trying to make it clear that I preferred Jacob.
  "That's Sam — he's nineteen," he informed me.
  "What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I askedinnocently.
  "The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto thereservation." Helooked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmedwhat I'd thoughtI'd heard in Sam's voice.
  "Why not?"He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "Oops. I'm notsupposed to sayanything about that.""Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm justcurious." I tried to make my smilealluring, wondering if I was laying iton too thick.
  He smiled back, though, looking allured. Then he lifted one eyebrow andhis voice was even huskier than before.
  "Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.
  "I love them," I enthused, making an effort to smolder at him.
  Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its rootssticking outlike the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perchedlightly onone of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the bodyof the tree.
  He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges ofhisbroad lips. I could see he was going to try to make this good. Ifocusedon keeping the vital interest I felt out of my eyes.
  "Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — theQuileutes, I mean?" he began.
  "Not really," I admitted.
  "Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to dateback tothe Flood — supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoesto thetops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah andtheark." He smiled, to show me how little stock he put in thehistories.
  "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves — and thatthewolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them.
  "Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped alittle lower.
  "The cold ones?" I asked, not faking my intrigue now.
  "Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolflegends, andsome much more recent. According to legend, my owngreat-grandfather knewsome of them. He was the one who made the treatythat kept them off ourland." He rolled his eyes.
  "Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged.
  "He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones arethenatural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but thewolvesthat turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call themwerewolves.""Werewolves have enemies?""Only one."I stared at himearnestly, hoping to disguise my impatience as admiration.
  "So you see," Jacob continued, "the cold ones are traditionallyourenemies. But this pack that came to our territory duringmygreat-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the wayothersof their kind did — they weren't supposed to be dangerous to thetribe.
  So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they wouldpromise tostay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to thepale-faces." He winkedat me.
  "If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" I tried tounderstand,struggling not to let him see how seriously I was consideringhis ghoststory.
  "There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, evenifthey're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they mightgettoo hungry to resist." He deliberately worked a thick edge of menaceintohis tone.
  "What do you mean, 'civilized'?""They claimed that they didn't hunthumans. They supposedly were somehowable to prey on animals instead."Itried to keep my voice casual. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens?
  Are they like the cold ones your greatgrandfather met?""No." Hepaused dramatically. "They are the same ones."He must have thought theexpression on my face was fear inspired by hisstory. He smiled, pleased,and continued.
  "There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but therestare the same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew oftheleader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people hadevenarrived." He was fighting a smile.
  "And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"He smiled darkly.
  "Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people callthemvampires."I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, notsure what my facewas exposing.
  "You have goose bumps," he laughed delightedly.
  "You're a good storyteller," I complimented him, still staring into thewaves.
  "Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn'twant usto talk about it to anyone."I couldn't control my expressionenough to look at him yet. "Don't worry,I won't give you away.""I guess Ijust violated the treaty," he laughed.
  "I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.
  "Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was prettymad atmy dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospitalsinceDr. Cullen started working there.""I won't, of course not.""So doyou think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" heasked in aplayful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn't lookedaway fromthe ocean.
  I turned and smiled at him as normally as I could.
  "No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I stillhave goose bumps, see?" I held up my arm.
  "Cool." He smiled.
  And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against eachotherwarned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at thesametime to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking towardus.
  "There you are, Bella," Mike called in relief, waving his arm over hishead.
  "Is that your boyfriend?" Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge inMike's voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.
  "No, definitely not," I whispered. I was tremendously grateful toJacob,and eager to make him as happy as possible. I winked at him,carefullyturning away from Mike to do so. He smiled, elated by my ineptflirting.
  "So when I get my license…" he began.
  "You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." Ifeltguilty as I said this, knowing that I'd used him. But I really didlikeJacob. He was someone I could easily be friends with.
  Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. Icould seehis eyes appraising Jacob, and looking satisfied at his obviousyouth.
  "Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was right in front ofhim.
  "Jacob was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered. "Itwasreally interesting."I smiled at Jacob warmly, and he grinned back.
  "Well," Mike paused, carefully reassessing the situation as hewatchedour camaraderie. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going torainsoon."We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did looklike rain.
  "Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming.""It was nice to see you again,"Jacob said, and I could tell he wastaunting Mike just a bit.
  "It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come,too," I promised.
  His grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool.""And thanks," I added earnestly.
  I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward theparkinglot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots onthe stoneswhere they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others werealreadyloading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat byAngela andTyler, announcing that I'd already had my turn in the shotgunposition.Angela just stared out the window at the escalating storm, andLaurentwisted around in the middle seat to occupy Tyler's attention, so Icouldsimply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes and try veryhardnot to think.
第六章 惊悚故事
当我坐在我的房间里,试图把注意力集中在《麦克白》的第三幕时,我依然竖起耳朵注意听着我的卡车的动静。我本来以为,即使透过磅礴大雨,那个引擎的咆哮依然能够传进我的耳中。但当我从窗帘后往外偷看——才第二次——的时候,它忽然就在那儿了。
我一点儿也不渴望星期五的到来,但那天的情形远远超出了我悲观的预期。当然,这里面有那次晕厥事件的因素。杰西卡似乎相当渴望得到有关那个故事的谈资。幸运地是,迈克守口如瓶,所以似乎没人知道爱德华也掺和进来了。尽管,她确实问了不少关于那次午餐的问题。
“那么,昨天爱德华?卡伦到底想干嘛?”三角函数课上,杰西卡问道。
“我不知道。”我如实答道。“他一直没说到点子上。”
“那时你看上去有点抓狂。”她迂回地试探着。
“真的?”我让自己保持面无表情。
“你知道,之前我从没见过他跟他家人以外的任何人一起坐。这太不可思议了。”
“不可思议。”我附和着。她似乎有些生气。她不耐烦地拨开了她的黑色卷发——我猜她本来希望能听到一些更有助于她编个好故事来散播的内容的。
星期五最糟糕的部分在于,尽管我早就知道他不会在那里的,我还是满心期待着。当我和杰西卡还有迈克一起走向自助餐厅的时候,我没法让自己别去看他的桌子。罗莎莉,爱丽丝和贾斯帕正坐在桌子旁,三个脑袋凑到一起聊着天。当我意识到,我不知道要等多久才能再见到他时,我茫然无措地任凭自己被卷入忧郁的深渊之中。
在我通常所坐的桌子旁,每个人都在谈论着我们第二天的计划。迈克又活跃了起来,信誓旦旦地支持着那位保证明天一定会放晴的本地天气预报员。我向来只相信眼见为实。但今天确实变暖和了——差不多有六十华氏度。或许这次远足不会变成一个全然的悲剧。
午餐的时候,我从劳伦那里截获了好几个充满敌意的眼神,但直到我们一起走出屋子,我才明白发生了什么事。我走在她后面,离她光滑发亮的银发只有一英尺的距离,而她显然没有注意到我。
“……不明白为什么贝拉”——她轻蔑地笑着,提到了我的名字——“不从现在开始就跟卡伦一家坐在一起。”
我听到她在和迈克窃窃私语着。我之前从没注意到她的鼻音是那么的讨厌,而我也被她话里的恶意吓了一跳。我跟她一点儿都不熟,肯定还没有熟到她会讨厌我的地步——或者,事实确实如我想的那样。“她是我的朋友,她和我们坐在一起。”迈克忠诚地低声回敬道,但多多少少是出于领土意识。我停下来,让杰西和安吉拉走到我前面。我不想再听下去了。
那天晚上吃晚餐的时候,查理似乎对我早上的拉普什之旅很热心。我想他是在为周末时总把我一个人留在家而感到内疚,但这是他多少年来养成的习惯,一时半会很难改过来。当然,他知道一起去的所有孩子的名字,还有他们的父母的名字,也许,还有他们祖父母的名字。他似乎很赞同这个计划。我有点想知道他会不会赞同我和爱德华?卡伦一起开车去西雅图的计划。但我不打算告诉他。
“爸爸,你知不知道一个叫山羊岩,或者类似这样的地方?我想它是在雷尼尔山的南部。”我若无其事地问道。
“知道——怎么了?”
我耸耸肩。“有些孩子在讨论着去那里野营。”
“那可不是个野营的好地方。”他听起来很吃惊。“有太多熊了。人们通常在狩猎季节的时候才会去那里。”
“哦,”我低声说道。“也许我把名字记错了。”  
我差点睡过头,但一种不同寻常的光亮让我醒了过来。我睁开眼睛,看到一道明黄色的光正从我的窗外照射进来。我简直不敢相信自己的眼睛。我冲到窗前看个究竟,然后确定,那确实是太阳。虽然它不在天空中它通常应该在的地方——太低了——而且显得太远了,它本应该更近一些的。但它是货真价实的太阳。地平线上镶嵌了一圈云朵,但在天空正中,一大块的蓝色清晰可见。我在窗前徘徊着,尽可能多待一会儿,生怕我一离开那片蓝色就又消失不见了。
牛顿家的奥林匹克旅行用品商店就在镇子的北边。我见过这家商店,但我从没停下来过——我对适用于长时间待在户外的设备需求不大。在停车场,我认出了迈克的雪佛兰巨无霸越野车和泰勒的丰田花冠。当我把车停到他们的车旁时,我看到了站在巨无霸前面的那帮人。埃里克在那里,跟两个和我一起上过课的男生在一块儿。我很确定他们的名字是本和科纳。杰西也在那里,站在安吉拉和劳伦中间。另外三个女孩和她们站在一起,我记得我周五时曾摔在了其中一个女孩身上。当我走下卡车的时候,那个女孩轻蔑地看了我一眼,低声跟劳伦说了些什么。劳伦甩开像玉米穗一样的头发,轻蔑地看着我。
因此,这将成为这些日子的一部分。
至少迈克很高兴见到我。
“你来啦!”他高兴地喊道。“我说过今天会放晴的,对吧?”
“我告诉过你我会来的。”我提醒他。
“我们只要再等一下李和萨曼塔……除非你还邀请了别人。”迈克补充道。
“没有。”我稍稍撒了个谎,希望不会被抓个正着。但我同样期待着有奇迹发生,期待着爱德华出现在这里。
迈克看上去很满意。
“你要坐我的车吗?我们开这辆还有李的妈妈的迷你货车。”
“当然是坐你的车。”
他喜滋滋地笑了起来。让迈克开心实在是件很容易的事。
“你可以带上鸟熗”他保证道。我藏起了自己的苦恼。同时让迈克和杰西卡高兴可就不太容易了。我能看见杰西卡正怒视着我们。
但是深得我心的是,人数解决了问题。李多带了两个人,忽然间每个座位都派上了用场。我成功地把杰西安排进了我和迈克之中,三个人一起坐在了巨无霸的前排。迈克本来会更高兴些的,但至少杰西卡是消停了。
从福克斯到拉普什只有十五英里,繁茂浓绿的森林几乎一路裹着公路向前绵延着,宽广的quillayute河蜿蜒着在林中出现了两次。(似乎是印第安人土语,不敢乱翻)我很高兴我坐在了靠窗的位置。我们把窗摇下来——这辆巨无霸塞了九个人,会让人得幽闭恐惧症的——我试图吸收尽可能多的阳光。
当我还在福克斯过暑假的时候,我和查理一起去过很多次拉普什周围的海滩。所以那片一英里长的新月形的第一湾对我来说毫不陌生。那里依然美极了。即使是在阳光下,海水依然是暗灰色的,覆盖着雪白的泡沫,击打着灰色的布满岩礁的海岸。岛屿耸立在港湾里钢铸般平静的海面上,四面都是悬崖绝壁,怪石嶙峋,顶上长满了险峻高大的杉树。沙滩上只有沿着海边的窄窄一片是货真价实的沙子,沙地后逐渐过渡为成千上万的巨大的平滑的礁石。远远看过去,所有的礁石都是一模一样的灰色。只有当走近的时候你才会发现,每块石头下面的荫凉处都是不同的颜色:棕橙色,海绿色,淡紫色,蓝灰色,暗金色。海岸线上点缀着巨大的浮木,它们被海水漂成了骨白色,有些堆叠在森林的边缘,有些孤零零的躺在海滩上,刚好处在海浪拍打不到的地方。(隐约记得接力版这里翻成了到处堆满了骨架。。。我疯了。。。)
凛冽的风呼啸着掠过海浪,冷冷的,带着些许咸味。鹈鹕漂浮在浪头上,成群的海鸥和一只长鹰在它们头上盘旋着。云层依然围在天边,威胁着随时都可能侵袭过来,但到目前为止太阳依然勇敢地从那圈蓝天里照射进来。
“我告诉过你我会来的。”我提醒他。
“我们只要再等一下李和萨曼塔……除非你还邀请了别人。”迈克补充道。
“没有。”我稍稍撒了个谎,希望不会被抓个正着。但我同样期待着有奇迹发生,期待着爱德华出现在这里。
迈克看上去很满意。
“你要坐我的车吗?我们开这辆还有李的妈妈的迷你货车。”
“当然是坐你的车。”
他喜滋滋地笑了起来。让迈克开心实在是件很容易的事。
“你可以坐到副驾驶座上。”他保证道。我藏起了自己的苦恼。同时让迈克和杰西卡高兴可不简单。我能看见杰西卡正怒视着我们
但是深得我心的是,人数解决了问题。李多带了两个人,忽然间每个座位都派上了用场。我成功地让杰西卡插进了我和迈克之中,三个人一起坐在了巨无霸的前排。迈克本来会更高兴些的,但至少杰西卡是消停了。
从福克斯到拉普什只有十五英里,繁茂浓绿的森林几乎一路裹着公路向前绵延着,宽广的quillayute河蜿蜒着在林中出现了两次。(似乎是印第安人土语,不敢乱翻)我很高兴我坐在了靠窗的位置。我们把窗摇下来——这辆巨无霸塞了九个人,会让人得幽闭恐惧症的——我试图吸收尽可能多的阳光。
当我还在福克斯过暑假的时候,我和查理一起去过很多次拉普什周围的海滩。所以那片一英里长的新月形的第一湾对我来说毫不陌生。那里依然美极了。即使是在阳光下,海水依然是暗灰色的,覆盖着雪白的泡沫,击打着灰色的布满岩礁的海岸。岛屿耸立在港湾里钢铸般平静的海面上,四面都是悬崖绝壁,怪石嶙峋,顶上长满了险峻高大的杉树。沙滩上只有沿着海边的窄窄一片是货真价实的沙子,沙地后逐渐过渡为成千上万的巨大的平滑的礁石。远远看过去,所有的礁石都是一模一样的灰色。只有当走近的时候你才会发现,每块石头下面的荫凉处都是不同的颜色:棕橙色,海绿色,淡紫色,蓝灰色,暗金色。海岸线上点缀着巨大的浮木,它们被海水漂成了骨白色,有些堆叠在森林的边缘,有些孤零零的躺在海滩上,刚好处在海浪拍打不到的地方。(隐约记得接力版这里翻成了到处堆满了骨架。。。我疯了。。。)
凛冽的风呼啸着掠过海浪,冷冷的,带着些许咸味。鹈鹕漂浮在浪头上,成群的海鸥和一只长鹰在它们头上盘旋着。云层依然围在天边,威胁着随时都可能侵袭过来,但到目前为止太阳依然勇敢地从那圈蓝天里照射进来。  
我们循路走下沙滩,迈克在前头领路,把我们带向一圈圆浮木。显然,这圈浮木之前也曾为像我们这样的成群结队的旅人服务过。那里有个摆得恰到好处的篝火堆,上面铺满了黑色的灰烬。埃里克和另一个男孩——我想他的名字是本——从树林边缘干燥的木头堆里收集了不少破碎的浮木块,然后很快在那些经年累月的灰烬上垒起了一个摇摇晃晃的木架。
“你见过浮木篝火吗?”迈克问我。我坐在其中一张骨白色的长凳上,别的女孩都聚在一起,兴奋地说着闲话,坐在了我的另一边。迈克跪在篝火旁,正在用打火机点燃其中一根比较细的干枝。
“没有。”我说,看着他把那个熊熊燃烧着的细枝小心地放到那堆摇摇晃晃的木架上。
“那你一定会喜欢这个的——看它的颜色。”他点燃了另一根树枝,并排着放到刚才那根树枝旁。火焰开始迅速地吞没着干燥的木块。
“那是蓝色的!”我惊讶地说。
“因为有盐。很漂亮,对吧?”他又点燃了一片木屑,放到木架上火还没烧到的地方,然后过来坐到我旁边。谢天谢地,杰西坐在他的另一边。她转向他,努力吸引他的注意力。我看着那堆古怪的蓝绿色火焰冲着天空劈啪作响。
我们漫无边际地闲聊了半个小时后,有几个男孩想到潮汐池周围走走。这实在让人进退两难。一方面,我喜欢潮汐池。当我还是个孩子的时候,就开始对它们着迷了。从前当我到福克斯来的时候,它们是我唯一盼望着的事物。另一方面,我也常常掉进潮汐池里。当你只有七岁,和爸爸在一起的时候,这没什么大不了的。但这让我想起了爱德华的请求——别让我自己掉进海里。
是劳伦促使我最终作出了决定。她不想去远足,而且她显然穿着不适合徒步旅行的鞋子。除了安吉拉和杰西卡,大部分女孩都决定也留在沙滩上。我一直等到泰勒和埃里克被委托留下来陪她们以后,才默默地加入了去远足的那一组。当迈克看到我加入的时候,他给了我一个大大的笑脸。
这次远足不算太漫长,虽然我一向讨厌待在林子里,因为看不到天空。森林里的绿光和少年人的笑声有一种古怪的不协调感,这里太阴森了,有一种不祥的气氛,跟我周围的轻松的调笑一点儿也不搭调。我不得不留神看着自己踏下的每一步,提防着底下的树根和顶上的树枝,很快被落在了后头。最终,我冲出了森林里翡翠色的藩篱,重新看见了布满岩礁的海岸。正是落潮时分,一条潮汐河涌动着从我们面前流过,奔向大海。沿着布满砾石的海岸上,一湾湾浅浅的水池从未干涸过,总是盈满了生机。
我非常谨慎,尽量离这些小海池远些。别的人就大胆多了,他们纵身跳过一块块礁石,准确地落在石头边上。在其中一个最大的潮汐池边上,我发现了一块看上去非常牢固的石头,便小心翼翼地坐到那里,被我脚边的天然鱼缸迷住了。一簇簇绚丽多彩的海葵在水流里永不止息地摇曳生姿,海星一动不动地粘在石头上和石缝里。一条小小的长满了白色斑纹的黑鳗鱼穿梭在绿意盎然的水草间,等着大海的归来。我完全沉浸在其中,只剩下脑海里的一小部分还在想着爱德华现在在做什么,试图幻想着如果他正在这里和我一起,他会说些什么。
男孩们最终觉得饿了,我僵直地站起来,跟着他们回去。这次我试图在穿越林子的时候跟紧些,所以很自然地,我摔倒了好几次。我的手腕上留下了一些浅浅的擦伤,我的牛仔裤的膝部被染成了绿色,但情况本可以更糟的。
当我们回到第一湾的时候,被我们留下来的那群人变多了。当我们走近些的时候,我们能看到新来者发亮的直发和红铜色的肌肤,他们是一群来自保留地的青少年,到这里来交朋友的。
他们已经开始分发食物了,当我们一个个走进浮木圈的时候,埃里克逐个介绍着我们的名字,男孩们却急不可耐地要求着自己那份食物。安吉拉和我是最后到的,当埃里克说出我们的名字时,我注意到一个坐在篝火旁的石头上,年纪比我小一些的男孩感兴趣地抬头看了过来。我坐到安吉拉身旁,迈克给我们拿来了三明治,还有一排苏打水任我们挑选。这时那群访客里看上去最年长的男孩开始喋喋不休地介绍起和他一起来的另外七个人的名字。我唯一能听进去的是其中一个女孩也叫杰西卡,而那个注意过我的男孩名叫雅克布。
和安吉拉坐在一起是一件让人放松的事,她是那种能给周围的人休息的人——她不认为需要用闲聊来填满每一段沉默。当我们吃东西的时候,她让我不受干扰地自由地思索着。我在想着,在福克斯度过的时光是那么的支离破碎,有时候时间过得飞快,模糊了记忆中的一切,只有几幅简单的画面凸显出来,比别的画面显得更清晰些。然而,别的一些时候,每一秒都显得那么的重要,深深地烙在了我的心上。我清楚地知道是什么导致了不同,但这更让我感到困扰。
在我们吃午饭的时候,云层开始向前推移,偷偷地蚕食着蓝天,随时都有可能冲到太阳跟前,在海滩上留下长长的阴影,让海浪变得一片漆黑。他们吃完东西以后,开始三三两两地散开。有些走下海滩走到海浪的边缘,试着跃过波涛起伏的海面跳到岩礁上。另一些人聚拢在一起,准备再来一次潮汐池远征。迈克——杰西卡像影子一样跟着他——起身向村里的一个商店走去。几个本地的孩子跟他们一起去。别的孩子则加入到远足中去。等到他们都七零八落地走光了的时候,我独自坐在我的那根圆浮木,劳伦和泰勒占据了那个不知是谁想着带来的随身听。三个来自保留区的青少年围着篝火坐着,包括那个名叫雅克布的男孩,还有那个最年长的表现得像个发言人一样的男孩。
过了几分钟,安吉拉和那帮远足的人一起走了,雅克布漫步过来,坐到了我身边她的位置上。他看上去只有十四岁,或者十五岁,一头光滑平直的黑发被拢到头后用橡胶圈束着放在颈背上。他的肌肤很美丽,像丝绸一样光滑,是赤褐色的。他的眼睛很黑,深深地嵌在他高高的颧骨上。他的下巴依然留着一点婴儿肥的痕迹。总的说来,是一张相当俊美的脸。但是,我对他长相的良好印象被他说出口的第一句话给毁了。
“你是伊莎贝拉?史温,对吧?”
就好像是到学校的第一天又历史重演了一样。
“贝拉。”我叹息道。
“我是雅克布?布莱克。”他友好地伸出了手。“你买下了我的车。”
“哦。”我如释重负地说着,握了握他光滑的手。“你是比利的儿子,我应该记得你的。”
“不,我是家里最小的孩子——你可能还记得我的姐姐们。”
“蕾切尔和丽贝卡。”我立刻想起来了。我到这里的时候,查理和比利常常把我们丢在一起,好让我们在他们钓鱼的时候忙个不停。我们都太害羞了,所以没能更进一步成为朋友。当然,当我十一岁的时候,我终于把我的怒火发作了出来,终结了钓鱼之旅。
“她们在这儿吗?”我审视着海边的那群女孩,想知道我现在还能不能把她们认出来。
“不,”雅克布摇着头说道。“蕾切尔拿到了一份奖学金,到华盛顿州念书去了。瑞贝卡和一个萨摩亚冲浪运动员结了婚——她现在住在夏威夷。”
“结婚,哇哦。”我大吃一惊。这对双胞胎只比我大一年多一点而已啊。(哼哼哼,人不能太铁齿。)
“那么,你觉得那辆卡车怎么样?”他问道。
“我很喜欢,它跑得好极了。”
“是的,但真的太慢了。”他大笑起来。“查理把它买下来的时候我简直如释重负,当我们家拥有这样一辆出色的好车时,我爸是不会让我再装配一辆车的。”
“它没那么慢。”我伉仪道。
“你试过开到时速六十英里以上吗?”
“没有。”我承认。
“很好,千万别这样做。”他龇牙咧嘴地笑了起来。
我不禁向他露齿一笑。“在事故里它表现得相当好。”我为自己的卡车辩护道。
“我认为就算是一辆坦_克也摧毁不了这个老怪物。”他又一次大笑起来,赞同道。
“那么,你会组装车子?”我对此印象深刻,于是问道。
“那得是我有空的时候,而且只是局部装配。你不会碰巧知道我能上哪儿弄一个1986年产的大众兔子的制动缸吧?”他打趣地补充道。他有着亲切沙哑的声线。
“抱歉,”我大笑起来。“我最近没见过这种东西,不过我会替你留意的。”就好像我知道那是什么东西一样。他实在是个容易攀谈的人。
灿烂的笑容在他脸上一闪而过,他看着我的眼神,显然是我正在学会辨别的那种。我不是唯一一个注意到这一点的人。
“你认识贝拉,雅克布?”劳伦从篝火那边发问道,我想她说话的腔调可以称得上是粗野无礼了。
“可以这么说,从我出生时起,我们就相识了。”他大笑着说,又一次冲着我微笑。
“真棒。”她的声音听起来一点儿也不像是觉得这很棒的样子,她暗淡无光的死鱼眼眯缝起来。
“贝拉,”她一边唤着我的名字,一边仔细地盯着我的脸看。“我刚才还在和泰勒说着,今天卡伦家没有一个人来实在是太糟了。没有人想要邀请他们吗?”她关切的表情看上去很假。
“你是指卡莱尔?卡伦医生一家吗?”我还没来得及对劳伦的挑衅进行反击,那个高大的年长的男孩忽然开口问道。他真的更接近于一个成年男子而不是男孩,他的声音非常地低沉。
“是的,你认识他们?”她带着几份优越感问道,半路转过头去看着他。
“卡伦家的人不会来这里的。”他的语气里带着这个话题到此为止的意味,毫不理睬她的问题。
泰勒试图夺回她的注意,他问了劳伦对他手上的一张CD的意见。她被分了神,不再继续这个话题了。
我注视着那个声音低沉的男孩,对他所说的话震惊不已。但他已经移开了视线,凝视着我们身后的黑暗的森林。他说卡伦家的人不会来这里,但他的语气暗示了更多的信息——他们不被认可,他们是被禁止的存在。他的态度给我留下了一个奇怪的印象,我试着不去注意这一点,但没有成功。
雅克布打断了我的沉思。“那么,福克斯已经让你发狂了吗?”
“哦,我得说这是一种保守的描述。”我做了个鬼脸。他心领神会地咧嘴一笑。
我依然反复思索着那个针对卡伦一家的简短评论,然后灵光一闪。这实在是个愚蠢的计划,但我想不出更好的办法了。我衷心希望年轻的雅克布对应付女孩子还没有太多的经验,这样他就不会看穿我显然是出于同情的,另有企图的调情了。
“你想和我一起去沙滩上走走吗?”我问道,试图模仿爱德华做过的那样,从眼睫毛下往上看。我当然知道,自己不可能做到和爱德华所做的相同的效果,但雅克布已经足够心甘情愿地跳起来了。
当我们一路向北,穿过多孔的礁石向浮木海堤走去的时候,云层最终铺满了天空,让海水变得黑暗起来,气温也下降了。我把手深深地揣进我夹克衫的口袋里。

“那么,你,满十六了吗?”我问道,学着我在电视上看过的那些女孩的样子眨巴着眼睛,尽量不让自己看起来像个傻瓜。
“我刚满十五岁。”他承认道,显然对我的奉承很是满意。
“真的?”我脸上堆满了虚伪的惊讶。“我还以为你的年纪会更大些。”
“就我的年纪而言,我的个子比较高。”他解释道。
“你常去福克斯吗?”我狡猾地问道,就好像我在期盼着一个肯定的回答一样。我觉得自己的声音听起来像个白痴一样。我很害怕他最终会嫌恶我,指责我的虚情假意。但他还是很高兴。
“不太常去。”他皱着眉承认道。“但等我把我的车弄好以后,我就能想去就去了——等我拿到驾照以后。”他稍微修正了一下。
“刚刚和劳伦说话的那个男孩是谁?他似乎老了些,不像是跟我们一起玩的年纪。”我刻意地把自己归类为年轻人,试图更明白地表示出我更喜欢雅克布。
“那是山姆——他十九岁了。”他告诉我。
“为什么他要那样说医生一家呢?”我一脸天真地问。
“卡伦一家?哦,他们不被允许来保留区。”他看向别处,望着远处的詹姆士岛。但他已经证实了我所认为的自己从山姆的语气里听出的东西。
“为什么不能呢?”
他回过头看着我,咬住了唇。“噢,我不应该说这些的。”
“哦,我不会告诉任何人的,我只是有点好奇而已。”我试图让自己的笑容显得更诱人些,但想着自己是不是做得有些过火了。
但他向我微笑着,显然已经上钩了。然后他挑起一侧眉头,声音变得比之前更为沙哑了。
“你喜欢听惊悚故事吗?”他用一种不祥的语气问道。
“我太喜欢了。”我热切地说着,竭力用眼神鼓励着他。
雅克布溜达着向旁边的一根浮木走去。这根浮木的根须张牙舞爪地伸展着,像是一只巨大的苍白的蜘蛛的无数只细腿。他轻巧地跳到其中一根扭曲的树根上坐下来,我坐在他的下方,坐到了树干上。他俯视着岩礁,一抹笑意在他宽厚的唇边上徘徊着。我看得出他正在努力组织语言。我专注地让自己的眼睛流露出兴致勃勃的神情。
“你听说过我们的古老故事吗?我是指,关于我们的来源——奎鲁特族?”他开始了。
“没有。”我承认道。
“嗯,这里面有很多传说,其中有些的内容可以追溯到大洪水时期——按照推测,古代的奎鲁特族人把他们的独木舟绑在了山上最高的一棵树的树顶,像诺亚方舟一样幸存了下来。”他微笑着,向我表明了他并不太相信这些历史。“另一个传说则声称我们是狼的后裔——现在这些狼依然是我们的兄弟。捕杀狼是违背部落法律的行为。”
“然后是关于冷族的故事。”他的声音压得更低了。(The cold one,我忘了中文版是怎么翻了。。。直接自己掰一个)
“冷族?”我问道,不再掩饰自己的阴谋了。
“是的。关于冷族的故事和狼的传说一样古老,有些则更近些。根据传说的内容,我的曾祖父曾经认识他们中的一些人。他和他们订下了条约,让他们远离我们的土地。”他转了转眼睛。
“你的曾祖父?”我鼓励着他说下去。
“他是部落的长老,和我爸爸一样。你知道,冷族和狼是天生的死敌——嗯,好吧,不是普通的狼,而是那些可以化成人形的狼,比方说我们的祖先。你可以称他们为狼人。”
“狼人会有敌人吗?”
“只有一个。”
我诚恳地看着他,希望能掩饰住自己不安,让他理解为钦佩。
“所以,你看,”雅克布继续说道。“冷族向来是我们的敌人。但在我曾祖父的时候,我们的领地里来了一群不太一样的冷族。他们不像别的冷族一样狩猎——他们也不会威胁到我们的部族。所以我的曾祖父和他们签下了休战协定。只要他们保证离我们的领土远远的,我们就不拆穿他们苍白的真面目。”他向我眨着眼睛。
“如果他们并不危险,那为什么……?”我试图理解他的话,但努力不让他发现我在认真地思考着他的幽灵故事。
“人类和冷族靠得太近总是有风险的,即使他们像这个小团体一样已经文明开化了。你永远不能知道他们什么时候会忍耐不住饥饿。”他故意让自己的口吻里带上了浓浓的恐吓的味道。
“你说的‘文明开化’是什么意思?”
“他们声称他们不会狩猎人类。以此类推,他们大概能在某种程度上用捕食动物来替代。”
我试图让自己的声音显得漫不经心些:“那这跟卡伦一家有什么关系呢?他们很像你的曾祖父所遇到的那群冷族吗?”
“不是的。”他故意顿了顿。“他们是同一群人。”
他一定认为,我脸上恐惧的表情纯粹是被他的故事吓出来的。他开心地笑了,然后继续说道。
“现在他们的人数增加了,又增加了一个新来的女性和一个新来的男性,但剩下的还是原来那帮人。在我曾祖父的时代,他们就已经听说过那个领导者,卡莱尔。他来过这里,然后在你们的人到达以前就走了。”他抗拒地一笑。
“他们究竟是什么?”我最终问道。“冷族到底是什么?”
他阴郁地笑了。
“饮血者。”他用冷漠的语气答道。“你们的人称他们为吸血鬼。”
在他回答以后,我看向起伏不定的海面,不敢肯定我的表情是否已经泄露了一切。
“你浑身都起了鸡皮疙瘩。”他兴高采烈地大笑着。
“你是个很棒的说故事的人。”我称赞他,依然盯着阵阵浪涛。
“不过,确实是相当疯狂的内容,不是吗?难怪我爸不让我们跟任何人说这些。”
我依然没法控制自己的表情,只好不去看他。“别担心,我不会出卖你的。”
“我想,我刚刚违背了条约。”他大笑起来。(一语成谶)
“我会把它带进坟墓的。”我保证道,然后哆嗦起来。
“不过,说真的,什么都别跟查理说。当他听说我们中的一些人自从卡伦医生开始在医院里工作以后就再也没去过医院的时候,他对我爸大发雷霆。”
“我不会说的,当然不会。”
“那么,你会觉得我们是一群迷信的土著还是别的什么吗?”他开玩笑地问道,却有些许担心的意味。我始终没把视线从海上移开。
我回过头,尽可能正常地冲他一笑。
“不会。但我觉得你很擅长说惊悚故事。我还在起鸡皮疙瘩,看见了吗?”我抬起我的胳膊。
“好极了。”他笑了起来。
然后,海滩上的碎石发出的喀拉喀拉声提醒我们有人来了。我们同时猛地回过头去,看见迈克和杰西卡在十五码外的地方,向我们走来。
“原来你在这里,贝拉。”迈克如释重负地喊道,把手举过头顶用力地挥舞着。
“那是你的男朋友吗?”雅克布留意到了迈克的语气带着嫉妒的味道,于是问道。我很惊讶,原来这是那么的明显。
“不是,显然不是。”我耳语道。我对雅克布充满了感激之情,想要让他尽可能更高兴些。我转过脸去不再看迈克,向他眨了眨眼睛。他笑了,我笨拙的调情让他很是高兴。
“那等我拿到驾照以后……”他开口说道。
“你一定要来福克斯看我。我们得找时间聚一下。”当我说这些的时候,我感到一阵内疚,知道自己纯粹是在利用他。但我真的很喜爱雅克布,他是那种很容易和我成为朋友的人。
现在迈克已经走到我们跟前了,把杰西卡落在了几步之外。我能看出他的眼睛正在估量着雅克布,看上去对他明摆着的年幼感到很满意。
“你上哪儿去了?”他问道,尽管答案就摆在他面前。
“雅克布刚刚和我讲了几个当地的故事,”我主动说道。“相当地有趣。”
我温和地向雅克布笑了笑,他冲我眨了眨眼睛。
“嗯,”迈克顿了顿,在看到我们的友谊之后,他重新评估了情况。“我们正在收拾东西——看上去快要下雨了。”
我们都抬起头,看着阴森森的天际。看起来确实是要下雨的样子。
“好吧。”我跳下来。“我来了。”
“很高兴再次见到你。”雅克布说道,我敢说他是在小小地奚落了一下迈克。
“我确实很开心。下次查理来看比利的时候,我也会过来的。”我保证道。
他咧开大嘴,开心地笑了。“那一定很棒。”
“还有,谢谢。”我真挚地补充道。
当我们踩着碎石向停车场走去的时候,我拉上了兜帽。几滴雨水开始落下来,打在石块上,染出了一个个小黑点。我们走到巨无霸那里的时候,别的人已经把所有的东西都放上车了。我宣称自己已经坐过副驾驶座了,这次便爬进后座,跟安吉拉和泰勒坐在一块儿。安吉拉只是盯着窗外,看着越下越大的暴雨。劳伦从中座扭过头来,占据着泰勒的注意力。所以我可以单纯地把头靠在座位上,闭上双眼,努力不再去想任何东西。

伊墨君

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Chapter 5 Blood Type
    I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I firstwalked in that class had already started.
  "Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparagingtone.
  I flushed and hurried to my seat.
  It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting inhisusual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric bothmetme at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven.Mikeseemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm ashetalked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain wassupposedto take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would bepossible. Itried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing himyesterday. It washard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in thehigh forties, if wewere lucky.
  The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult tobelievethat I hadn't just imagined what Edward had said, and the way hiseyeshad looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'dconfusedwith reality. That seemed more probable than that I reallyappealed tohim on any level.
  So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria.
  I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to thecold,indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, bysomemiracle, I'd really heard what I thought I'd heard this morning.Jessicababbled on and on about her dance plans — Lauren and Angela hadasked theother boys and they were all going together — completelyunaware of myinattention.
  Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused onhistable. The other four were there, but he was absent. Had he gonehome? Ifollowed the still-babbling Jessica through the line, crushed.I'd lostmy appetite — I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I justwanted togo sit down and sulk.
  "Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, finallybreakingthrough my abstraction with his name. "I wonder why he's sittingalonetoday."My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Edward,smiling crookedly,staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteriafrom where heusually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one handand motionedwith his index finger for me to join him. As I stared indisbelief, hewinked.
  "Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in hervoice.
  "Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," I muttered forherbenefit. "Um, I'd better go see what he wants."I could feel herstaring after me as I walked away.
  When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him,unsure.
  "Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling.
  I sat down automatically, watching him with caution. He wasstillsmiling. It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could bereal.
  I was afraid that he might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and Iwould wake up.
  He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
  "This is different," I finally managed.
  "Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in arush. "Idecided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do itthoroughly."I waited for him to say something that made sense. Theseconds ticked by.
  "You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.
  "I know." He smiled again, and then he changed the subject. "Ithink yourfriends are angry with me for stealing you.""They'll survive."I could feel their stares boring into my back.
  "I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in hiseyes.
  I gulped.
  He laughed. "You look worried.""No," I said, but, ridiculously, myvoice broke. "Surprised, actually…what brought all this on?""I told you —I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm givingup." He wasstill smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious.
  "Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.
  "Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what Iwant now,and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as heexplained,and a hard edge crept into his voice.
  "You lost me again."The breathtaking crooked smile reappeared.
  "I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one oftheproblems.""Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.
  "I'm counting on that.""So, in plain English, are we friends now?""Friends…" he mused, dubious.
  "Or not," I muttered.
  He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you nowthatI'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning wasreal.
  "You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling inmy stomach and keep my voice even.
  "Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for youtobelieve it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me.""I think you've madeyour opinion on the subject of my intellect clear,too." My eyesnarrowed.
  He smiled apologetically.
  "So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" Istruggled to sum up the confusing exchange.
  "That sounds about right."I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not surewhat to do now.
  "What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.
  I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual,blurted out the truth.
  "I'm trying to figure out what you are."His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort.
  "Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.
  "Not too much," I admitted.
  He chuckled. "What are your theories?"I blushed. I had beenvacillating during the last month between BruceWayne and Peter Parker.There was no way I was going to own up to that.
  "Won't you tell me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side with ashockingly tempting smile.
  I shook my head. "Too embarrassing.""That's really frustrating, you know," he complained.
  "No," I disagreed quickly, my eyes narrowing, "I can't imagine whythatwould be frustrating at all — just because someone refuses to tellyouwhat they're thinking, even if all the while they're makingcrypticlittle remarks specifically designed to keep you up at nightwonderingwhat they could possibly mean… now, why would that befrustrating?"He grimaced.
  "Or better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now,"saythat person also did a wide range of bizarre things — from savingyourlife under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like apariahthe next, and he never explained any of that, either, even afterhepromised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating.""You've got a bitof a temper, don't you?""I don't like double standards."We stared ateach other, unsmiling.
  He glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.
  "What?""Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you —he'sdebating whether or not to come break up our fight." He snickeredagain.
  "I don't know who you're talking about," I said frostily. "But I'msureyou're wrong, anyway.""I'm not. I told you, most people are easy toread.""Except me, of course.""Yes. Except for you." His mood shiftedsuddenly; his eyes turnedbrooding. "I wonder why that is."I had to lookaway from the intensity of his stare. I concentrated onunscrewing thelid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the tablewithout seeingit.
  "Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.
  "No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was alreadyfull — ofbutterflies. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front ofhim.
  "No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression — it looked likehe was enjoying some private joke.
  "Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.
  He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want.""It's not much," I assured him.
  He waited, guarded but curious.
  "I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next timeyoudecide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I lookedatthe lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening withmypinkie finger.
  "That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep fromlaughing when I looked up.
  "Thanks.""Then can I have one answer in return?" he demanded.
  "One.""Tell me one theory."Whoops. "Not that one.""You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," he reminded me.
  "And you've broken promises yourself," I reminded him back.
  "Just one theory — I won't laugh.""Yes, you will." I was positive about that.
  He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes,his ocher eyes scorching.
  "Please?" he breathed, leaning toward me.
  I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that?
  "Er, what?" I asked, dazed.
  "Please tell me just one little theory." His eyes still smoldered at me.
  "Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?" Was he a hypnotist, too? Orwas I just a hopeless pushover?
  "That's not very creative," he scoffed.
  "I'm sorry, that's all I've got," I said, miffed.
  "You're not even close," he teased.
  "No spiders?""Nope.""And no radioactivity?""None.""Dang," I sighed.
  "Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," he chuckled.
  "You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"He struggled to compose his face.
  "I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.
  "I wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again.
  "Because… ?""What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiledplayfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.
  "Oh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly intoplace. "Isee.""Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he wereafraid that he'daccidentally said too much.
  "You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as Iintuitivelyrealized the truth of my own words. He was dangerous. He'dbeen trying totell me that all along.
  He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.
  "But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believethatyou're bad.""You're wrong." His voice was almost inaudible. Helooked down, stealingmy bottle lid and then spinning it on its sidebetween his fingers. Istared at him, wondering why I didn't feel afraid.He meant what he wassaying — that was obvious. But I just felt anxious,on edge… and, morethan anything else, fascinated. The same way I alwaysfelt when I wasnear him.
  The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.
  I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late.""I'm not going toclass today," he said, twirling the lid so fast it wasjust a blur.
  "Why not?""It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He smiled up at me, but hiseyes were still troubled.
  "Well, I'm going," I told him. I was far too big a coward to risk gettingcaught.
  He turned his attention back to his makeshift top. "I'll see youlater,then."I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurryingout the door— with a last glance confirming that he hadn't moved acentimeter.
  As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap.
  So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many newquestions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped.
  I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. Isettledquickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela werestaring at me.
  Mike looked resentful; Angela looked surprised, and slightly awed.
  Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. Hewasjuggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them downonMike's table, telling him to start passing them around the class.
  "Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," hesaid ashe produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his labjacket andpulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped intoplace againsthis wrists seemed ominous to me. "The first should be anindicator card,"he went on, grabbing a white card with four squaresmarked on it anddisplaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator—" he held upsomething that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "—and the thirdis a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece ofblue plastic andsplit it open. The barb was invisible from thisdistance, but my stomachflipped.
  "I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare yourcards, soplease don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike'stable again,carefully putting one drop of water in each of the foursquares. "Then Iwant you to carefully prick your finger with thelancet…" He grabbedMike's hand and jabbed the spike into the tip ofMike's middle finger. Ohno. Clammy moisture broke out across myforehead.
  "Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." Hedemonstrated,squeezing Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowedconvulsively,my stomach heaving.
  "And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up thedripping redcard for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear throughthe ringingin my ears.
  "The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles nextweekend, so Ithought you should all know your blood type." He soundedproud ofhimself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need aparent'spermission — I have slips at my desk."He continued through theroom with his water drops. I put my cheekagainst the cool black tabletopand tried to hold on to my consciousness.
  All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles asmyclassmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and outthroughmy mouth.
  "Bella, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to myhead, and it sounded alarmed.
  "I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I wasafraid to raise my head.
  "Are you feeling faint?""Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when Ihad the chance.
  "Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.
  I didn't have to look up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered.
  "Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.
  "Yes," I whispered. Just let me get out of here, I thought. I'll crawl.
  Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled myarmover his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out oftheclassroom.
  Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge ofthecafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner waswatching,I stopped.
  "Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged.
  He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.
  "And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," I warned. Iwasstill so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek againstthefreezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. That seemedtohelp a little.
  "Wow, you're green, Bella," Mike said nervously.
  "Bella?" a different voice called from the distance.
  No! Please let me be imagining that horribly familiar voice.
  "What's wrong — is she hurt?" His voice was closer now, and hesoundedupset. I wasn't imagining it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping todie. Or,at the very least, not to throw up.
  Mike seemed stressed. "I think she's fainted. I don't know whathappened,she didn't even stick her finger.""Bella." Edward's voice wasright beside me, relieved now. "Can you hearme?""No," I groaned. "Goaway."He chuckled.
  "I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensivetone, "butshe wouldn't go any farther.""I'll take her," Edward said. Icould hear the smile still in his voice.
  "You can go back to class.""No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed todo it."Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flewopen inshock. Edward had scooped me up in his arms, as easily as if Iweighedten pounds instead of a hundred and ten.
  "Put me down!" Please, please let me not vomit on him. He was walkingbefore I was finished talking.
  "Hey!" Mike called, already ten paces behind us.
  Edward ignored him. "You look awful," he told me, grinning.
  "Put me back on the sidewalk," I moaned. The rocking movement ofhis walkwas not helping. He held me away from his body, gingerly,supporting allmy weight with just his arms — it didn't seem to botherhim.
  "So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. This seemed to entertainhim.
  I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea with all mystrength, clamping my lips together.
  "And not even your own blood," he continued, enjoying himself.
  I don't know how he opened the door while carrying me, but it wassuddenly warm, so I knew we were inside.
  "Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.
  "She fainted in Biology," Edward explained.
  I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edward was striding pastthefront counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheadedfrontoffice receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. Thegrandmotherlynurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Edward swungme into theroom and placed me gently on the crackly paper that coveredthe brownvinyl mattress on the one cot. Then he moved to stand againstthe wall asfar across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright,excited.
  "She's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse."They'reblood typing in Biology."The nurse nodded sagely. "There'salways one."He muffled a snicker.
  "Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass.""I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.
  "Does this happen a lot?" she asked.
  "Sometimes," I admitted. Edward coughed to hide another laugh.
  "You can go back to class now," she told him.
  "I'm supposed to stay with her." He said this with such assuredauthoritythat — even though she pursed her lips — the nurse didn't argueitfurther.
  "I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, andthen bustled out of the room.
  "You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.
  "I usually am — but about what in particular this time?""Ditching is healthy." I practiced breathing evenly.
  "You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. Histonemade it sound like he was confessing a humiliating weakness. "IthoughtNewton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in thewoods.""Ha ha." I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling morenormal everyminute.
  "Honestly — I've seen corpses with better color. I was concernedthat Imight have to avenge your murder.""Poor Mike. I'll bet he'smad.""He absolutely loathes me," Edward said cheerfully.
  "You can't know that," I argued, but then I wondered suddenly if he could.
  "I saw his face — I could tell.""How did you see me? I thought youwere ditching." I was almost fine now,though the queasiness wouldprobably pass faster if I'd eaten somethingfor lunch. On the other hand,maybe it was lucky my stomach was empty.
  "I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response — itsurprised me.
  I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compressin her hand.
  "Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're lookingbetter," she added.
  "I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in myears,no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should.
  I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door openedjust then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.
  "We've got another one," she warned.
  I hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid.
  I handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't needthis."And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting asallow-lookingLee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edward andI drew backagainst the wall to give them room.
  "Oh no," Edward muttered. "Go out to the office, Bella."I looked up at him, bewildered.
  "Trust me — go."I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of theinfirmary. I could feel Edward right behind me.
  "You actually listened to me." He was stunned.
  "I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn't sick fromwatching other people, like me.
  "People can't smell blood," he contradicted.
  "Well, I can — that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt."He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.
  "What?" I asked.
  "It's nothing."Mike came through the door then, glancing from me toEdward. The look hegave Edward confirmed what Edward had said aboutloathing. He looked backat me, his eyes glum.
  "You look better," he accused.
  "Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him again.
  "It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back toclass?""Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and comeback.""Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?"While hespoke, he flashed another glare toward Edward, who was standingagainstthe cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring offinto space.
  I tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Sure, I said I wasin.""We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered toEdwardagain, wondering if he was giving out too much information. Hisbodylanguage made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.
  "I'll be there," I promised.
  "I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.
  "See you," I replied. He looked at me once more, his round faceslightlypouting, and then as he walked slowly through the door, hisshouldersslumped. A swell of sympathy washed over me. I pondered seeinghisdisappointed face again… in Gym.
  "Gym," I groaned.
  "I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Edward moving to myside, buthe spoke now in my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," hemuttered.
  That wasn't a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent swoon hadlefta light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creakyfoldingchairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed.Faintingspells always exhausted me.
  I heard Edward speaking softly at the counter.
  "Ms. Cope?""Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.
  "Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough.
  Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you thinkyoucould excuse her from class?" His voice was like melting honey. Icouldimagine how much more overwhelming his eyes would be.
  "Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?" Ms. Cope fluttered. Whycouldn't I do that?
  "No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind.""Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me.
  I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.
  "Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With his back tothe receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.
  "I'll walk."I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held thedoor for me, hissmile polite but his eyes mocking. I walked out into thecold, fine mistthat had just begun to fall. It felt nice — the firsttime I'd enjoyedthe constant moisture falling out of the sky — as itwashed my face cleanof the sticky perspiration.
  "Thanks," I said as he followed me out. "It's almost worth gettingsickto miss Gym.""Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squintinginto the rain.
  "So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping he would,thoughit seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture him loading up to carpoolwith therest of the kids from school; he didn't belong in the sameworld. Butjust hoping that he might gave me the first twinge ofenthusiasm I'd feltfor the outing.
  "Where are you all going, exactly?" He was still looking ahead,expressionless.
  "Down to La Push, to First Beach." I studied his face, trying to read it.
  His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.
  He glanced down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly."Ireally don't think I was invited."I sighed. "I just invitedyou.""Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don'twanthim to snap." His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more thanheshould.
  "Mike-schmike." I muttered, preoccupied by the way he'd said "you and I."I liked it more than I should.
  We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck.
  Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.
  "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping afistful of my jacket in one hand.
  I was confused. "I'm going home.""Didn't you hear me promise totake you safely home? Do you think I'mgoing to let you drive in yourcondition?" His voice was still indignant.
  "What condition? And what about my truck?" I complained.
  "I'll have Alice drop it off after school." He was towing me towardhiscar now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keepfromfalling backward. He'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did.
  "Let go!" I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sidewaysacrossthe wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freedme — Istumbled against the passenger door.
  "You are so pushy!" I grumbled.
  "It's open," was all he responded. He got in the driver's side.
  "I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" I stood by thecar,fuming. It was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, somyhair was dripping down my back.
  He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat.
  "Get in, Bella."I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating mychances of reaching thetruck before he could catch me. I had to admit,they weren't good.
  "I'll just drag you back," he threatened, guessing my plan.
  I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into his car. Iwasn'tvery successful — I looked like a half-drowned cat and my bootssqueaked.
  "This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.
  He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heaterup andthe music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I waspreparing togive him the silent treatment — my face in full pout mode —but then Irecognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the betterof myintentions.
  "Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.
  "You know Debussy?" He sounded surprised, too.
  "Not well," I admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical musicaroundthe house — I only know my favorites.""It's one of my favorites,too." He stared out through the rain, lost inthought.
  I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leatherseat. Itwas impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody.The rainblurred everything outside the window into gray and greensmudges. Ibegan to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved sosteadily, soevenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the townflashing by gaveit away.
  "What is your mother like?" he asked me suddenly.
  I glanced over to see him studying me with curious eyes.
  "She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," I said. He raisedhiseyebrows. "I have too much Charlie in me. She's more outgoing than Iam,and braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's averyunpredictable cook. She's my best friend." I stopped. Talking aboutherwas making me depressed.
  "How old are you, Bella?" His voice sounded frustrated for somereason Icouldn't imagine. He'd stopped the car, and I realized we wereatCharlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barelyseethe house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.
  "I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.
  "You don't seem seventeen."His tone was reproachful; it made me laugh.
  "What?" he asked, curious again.
  "My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I getmoremiddle-aged every year." I laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someonehasto be the adult." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much likeajunior in high school yourself," I noted.
  He made a face and changed the subject.
  "So why did your mother marry Phil?"I was surprised he wouldremember the name; I'd mentioned it just once,almost two months ago. Ittook me a moment to answer.
  "My mother… she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes herfeeleven younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him." I shook my head.Theattraction was a mystery to me.
  "Do you approve?" he asked.
  "Does it matter?" I countered. "I want her to be happy… and he is who shewants.""That's very generous… I wonder," he mused.
  "What?""Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? Nomatter whoyour choice was?" He was suddenly intent, his eyes searchingmine.
  "I-I think so," I stuttered. "But she's the parent, after all. It's alittle bit different.""No one too scary then," he teased.
  I grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiplefacialpiercings and extensive tattoos?""That's one definition, Isuppose.""What's your definition?"But he ignored my question and askedme another. "Do you think that Icould be scary?" He raised one eyebrow,and the faint trace of a smilelightened his face.
  I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie wouldgoover better. I decided to go with the truth. "Hmmm… I think you couldbe,if you wanted to.""Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished,and his heavenly facewas suddenly serious.
  "No." But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.
  "So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked todistracthim. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."Hewas instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?""The Cullens adoptedyou?" I verified.
  "Yes."I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?""They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact.
  "I'm sorry," I mumbled.
  "I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme havebeenmy parents for a long time now.""And you love them." It wasn't aquestion. It was obvious in the way hespoke of them.
  "Yes." He smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people.""You'revery lucky.""I know I am.""And your brother and sister?"He glanced atthe clock on the dashboard.
  "My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, aregoingto be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting forme.""Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of thecar.
  "And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home,soyou don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." He grinned atme.
  "I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed.
  He laughed, and there was an edge to his laughter.
  "Have fun at the beach… good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out atthe sheeting rain.
  "Won't I see you tomorrow?""No. Emmett and I are starting theweekend early.""What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that,right? I hoped thedisappointment wasn't too apparent in my voice.
  "We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just southofRainier."I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went campingfrequently.
  "Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't thinkIfooled him, though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.
  "Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to lookmestraight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning goldeyes.
  I nodded helplessly.
  "Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people whojustattract accidents like a magnet. So… try not to fall into the oceanorget run over or anything, all right?" He smiled crookedly.
  The helplessness had faded as he spoke. I glared at him.
  "I'll see what I can do," I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. Islammed the door behind me with excessive force.He was still smiling as he drove away.
第五章 血型

我神思恍惚地向英语教室走去。我甚至没有意识到,我是在开始上课后才走进教室的,这是我第一次在英语课上迟到。
“谢谢你屈尊加入我们,史温小姐。”马森老师轻蔑地说。
我闪身冲进教室,飞快地奔到我的座位上坐下。
直到这节课结束的时候,我才意识到迈克没有像往常一样坐在我旁边。我感到一阵痛彻心扉的内疚。但他和埃里克都像以往一样在门外等着我,所以我估计自己还不致于罪无可恕。当我们一起走的时候,迈克似乎又恢复成了原来的他,开始热切地谈论着这个周末的天气预报。连绵的雨天似乎会在周末稍作停顿,所以他的海滩之旅应该是没问题的。我尽量让自己显得更热衷些,以补充昨天给他带来的失望。这很不容易:不管下不下雨,气温最高也就四十华氏度,这还得建立在我们运气好的前提下。
一个上午就这样浑浑噩噩地过去了。我很难让自己相信,爱德华所说的话,以及他注视着我的眼神,不是我自己虚构出来的。也许这只是一个太过逼真的梦境,被我跟现实混淆了。这个设想的可能性,比起我真的对他具有某种吸引力——不管程度大小——的可能性要大得多。
所以当杰西卡和我一起走进自助餐厅的时候,我既不安又害怕。我想看到他的脸,想知道他是不是又变回了过去几周里我所知道的,那个冰冷的、漠然的人。又或者,出于某种奇迹,我真的听到了今天上午我以为我听到的那些话。杰西卡喋喋不休地唠叨着她对舞会的计划——劳伦和安吉拉都邀请了别的男孩,他们都会一起去的——完全没有注意到我的心不在焉。
当我的目光准确地投向他的桌子时,失望吞没了我。另外四个人都在,只有他不在那里。他已经回家了吗?我跟着嘴巴一直没停过的杰西卡穿过人群,只觉整个身心都被碾碎了一样。我完全没有了胃口——我什么吃的都没买,只要了一瓶柠檬水。我只想快点走开坐下,独自咀嚼心中的失落。
“爱德华?卡伦又在盯着你看了。”杰西卡说着,最终打破了我对他的名字的抽象感。“我想知道他今天为什么会一个人坐。”
我猛地抬起头。追随着她的目光,我看见了爱德华。他嘴角弯弯地笑着,正盯着我看。他现在坐着的那张空桌子,与他通常坐的位置分别处在自助餐厅的两头。他一对上我的视线,就举起一只手,用食指示意我过去和他一起坐。我不敢相信地盯着他,他只好冲我使了个眼色。
“他是在叫你吗?”杰西卡问道,声音里透着近乎无礼的惊讶。
“也许他需要有人帮助他做生物作业。”为了让她觉得好受点,我低声含糊地说道。“嗯,我最好过去看看他想干嘛。”
当我走过去的时候,我能感觉到她的眼睛始终钉在我的背上。
我走到他的桌子旁,不太确定地站在他对面的椅子后。
“你今天为什么不和我一起坐呢?”他微笑着问道。
我机械地坐下来,警惕地盯着他。他依然微笑着。很难相信这样美丽的人居然存在在现实之中。我真怕他会忽然消失在一阵轻烟中,然后我惊醒过来,发觉这只是一场梦。
他似乎在等着我说点什么。
“今天有点不太一样。”最终,我成功地挤出了几个字。
“嗯……”他停顿了片刻,然后决定一口气把话说完。“我打定主意了,就算我这是在下地狱,我也要把这一切做完。”
我等着他说出意思更明确些的话。时间一分一秒地过去。
“你知道,我不明白你在说什么。”我最终还是指出来了。
“我知道。”他又笑了起来,然后转移了话题。“我觉得,因为我把你偷走了,你的朋友正在生我的气呢。”
“他们能活得下去。”我能感觉到他们烦人的目光直射着我的背。
“不过,我不打算把你还回去。”他说着,眼里闪过促狭的光芒。
我下意识地吞咽了一下。
他大笑起来:“你看起来很担心啊。”
“不,”我说道,但可笑的是,我破音了。“确实,有点吃惊……是什么导致你改变了态度呢?”
“我告诉过你了——我厌倦了,不想再把自己从你身边赶走。所以我放弃了。”他还是微笑着,但他黑金色的眸子显得很认真。
“放弃?”我迷惑地重复着他的话。
“是的——放弃强迫自己循规蹈矩。现在我只想随心所欲地做自己想做的事,那些无关紧要的琐事就由它们去吧。”(and let the chipsfall where they may.Edward啊,你还可以说得再隐晦点么?)他解释着,嘴角的笑意有些黯淡,某种生硬的味道在他的语气中蔓延开来。
“你又让我迷惑了。”
那抹险些就要消失的微笑重新浮现在弯弯的嘴角上。
“当我和你说话时,我说出口的永远比想要说的还多。——这实在是个问题。”
“不用担心——我一句都没听懂。”我挖苦道。
“我就指望着这点呢。”
“所以,用通用的英语来说的话,我们现在是朋友了吗?”
“朋友……”他露出不太确定的神情,若有所思地说。
“或者不是。”我低沉地说。
他咧嘴一笑:“好吧,我们可以试试看。但我有言在先,对你来说我不会是一个很好的朋友。”撇开他的笑容不说,这个警告绝对具有现实意义。
“你已经讲过很多遍了。”我提醒他,努力让自己的声音显得正常些,不去管胃里突如其来的一阵抽搐。
“是的,那是因为你总不专心听我说话。我会一直等着,直到你相信这一点为止。如果你足够聪明,你就应该躲开我。”
“我认为,你针对我的智商这个话题所发表的意见也已经重复了很多遍了。”我眯缝起眼睛。
他一脸歉意地笑了笑。
“所以,如果我……不够聪明,我们就要试着成为朋友了吗?”我奋力总结出这个令人困惑的交换条件。
“听起来,完全正确。”
我低下头,看着自己交叠在柠檬水瓶上的双手,不知道现在该说些什么好。
“你在想什么?”他好奇地问道。
我抬起头,看进他深邃的金色双眸里,立刻被迷住了。然后,像往常一样,实话脱口而出。
“我正在努力思考你到底是什么人。”
他下巴一紧,但还是努力保持着恰如其分的微笑。
“有什么进展吗?”他唐突地问道。
“没什么进展。”我承认道。
他轻笑着:“那你的理论依据是什么?”
我脸红了。这一个月来我一直在布鲁斯?维尼(蝙蝠侠)和彼得?帕克(蜘蛛侠)之间举棋不定。但我实在不敢承认自己的这些念头。
“你不想告诉我吗?”他问道,嘴角挂着一抹太过诱人的微笑,慢慢地把头侧过我这边来。
我用力摇头:“太丢人。”
“你知道,这太让人沮丧了。”他抱怨着。
“不。”我很快地否认了,眼睛眯缝起来。“我完全无法想象这为什么会让人沮丧——仅仅因为某些人拒绝告诉你他们在想什么——即便他们一直被某人所说的某些具有特别意味的只言片语困扰着,整夜不睡地揣测着某人可能暗示着……所以,现在,这为什么会让人沮丧呢?”
他扮了个鬼脸。
“或者更有甚者,”我继续说道,被压抑已久的怨言现在全都毫无节制地爆发出来了。“这样说吧,某人做了一大堆异乎寻常的事——从某天在极不可能的情形下救了你的命,到紧接着就把你视如草芥——而且他还从不对这些行径作任何解释,甚至是在他承诺过以后。这些,同样地,丝毫不让人觉得沮丧。”
“你正在气头上,对吧?”
“我不喜欢双重标准。”
我们都板着脸,看着对方。
他的目光越过了我的肩膀,然后,毫无预兆地,他窃笑起来。
“干嘛?”
“你的男朋友似乎认为我在惹你生气——他正在思考着要不要过来结束我们的争吵。”他又窃笑起来。
“我不知道你在说什么。”我冷淡地说。“但不管怎样,我可以肯定,你是错的。”
“我没说错。我告诉你,大多数人都很容易读懂。”
“当然,不包括我。”
“是的。不包括你。”他的语气忽然一变,眼神转为沉思的神情。“我真想知道为什么。”
我不得不移开视线,以逃避他深邃的目光。我专心致志地把柠檬水瓶的盖子拧开,喝了一大口,然后心不在焉地盯着桌面。(staring at the table without seeing it目光落在桌子上,却对它视而不见……)
“你不饿吗?”他问道,试图转移我的注意力。
“不饿。”我根本不想告诉他我饱得很——憋着一肚子的惴惴不安七上八下。(my stomach was already full——of butterflies.这段翻译太要命了。。。)“你呢?”我看着他面前空空如也的桌面。
“我也不饿。”我读不懂他的表情——像是他想到了某个私底下的笑话于是暗自发笑。
“你能帮我个忙吗?”我迟疑了片刻,问道。
他忽然小心起来:“那得看情况,得看你想要什么。”
“不会太过分的。”我向他保证。
他既警惕又好奇地等待着。
“我只是想知道……下次你为了我好而决定不理会我之前,能不能先给我提个醒。我好有所准备。”我一边说着,一边埋头看着手里柠檬水瓶子,试验着要转多少圈才能用我的小指把瓶盖打开。
“听着还算合理。”我抬起头,发觉他正用力抿紧唇,以免让自己笑出来。
“非常感谢。”
“那么,作为回报我要索取一个回答咯?”他要求道。
“就一个。”
“告诉我你的一个理论。”
呜哇。“换一个。”
“你没限定我不能问什么,你刚刚承诺过的,要给我一个回答。”他提醒我。
“同样,你也违背了你的承诺。”我反将一军。
“就一个理论——我不会笑的。”
“不,你会的。”我对此相当肯定。
他垂下头,然后抬起眼,透过他又长又黑的睫毛盯着我。他黑金色的眼睛发出灼热的光芒。
“好吗?”他侧向我,低语道。(breath,好词。。。撞墙。。。)
我眨了眨眼,脑子里一片空白。干得好,他是怎么做到的?(holy crow,再次撞墙中。。。)
“呃,什么?”我晕乎乎地问道。
“告诉我吧,就说一个小小的理论。”他的眼神依然左右着我。(smoldered at me,继续撞。。。)
“嗯,好吧,被一只带放射性的蜘蛛咬了一口?”或许他还是个催眠师?又或者,我刚好是那种可悲的容易被摆布的家伙?
“你甚至根本没沾边。”他揶揄道。
“不是蜘蛛?”
“不是。”
“跟放射性无关?”
“毫无关系。”
“靠。”我叹了口气。
“氪石也耐我不何。”他轻笑着。(氪石,超人的克星。)
“你说过你不会笑的,还记得吧?”
他竭力绷住脸。
“总有一天我会猜出来的。”我警告他。
“我希望你不要轻易尝试。”他又认真起来。
“因为……?”
“如果我不是一个超级英雄呢?如果我是坏人呢?”他戏谑地笑着,眼神却深不可测。
“哦,”我说道,仿佛他暗示着的许多事情忽然间水落石出了。“我知道了。”
“真的?”他脸色陡然一沉,就好像他害怕着自己不小心又透露得太多。
“你很危险?”我猜测着,然后直觉地意识到了我所说出的真相——我的脉搏不由得加快了。他很危险。他自始至终都在试图告诉我这一点。
他只是看着我,眼里涌动着我无法理解的情绪。
“可你不是坏人。”我摇着头,低声说道。“不,我不相信你是坏人。”
“你错了。”他的声音低得几不可闻。他垂下眼帘,侵占了我的瓶盖,在手里把玩着。瓶盖在他修长的手指之间飞快地旋转着。我看着他,想知道为什么我丝毫不感到害怕。他想要表达的就是字面上的意思——这太明显了。但是,我只感到了急切的焦虑……还有,比任何感觉都要强烈的是,深深的着迷。这种感觉,和每次我靠近他时所感受到的,一模一样。
沉默一直持续着,直到我注意到自助餐厅里几近空无一人时才告一段落。
我跳了起来:“我们要迟到了。”
“我今天不去上课。”他说着,瓶盖在他的指间转得飞快,快得只剩下一个模糊的轮廓。
“为什么不去?”
“偶尔翘课有益于身心健康。”他微笑着抬头看着我,但他的眼里依然很不平静。
“好吧,那我走了。”我告诉他。我确实是个胆小鬼,所以我不敢承担万一被抓的风险。
他把注意力转回被他临时征用的瓶盖上:“那么,待会见。”
我犹豫着,挣扎着,但第一声铃响逼着我冲出门外——我最后扫了他一眼,确定他还在原处,甚至连一公分都没挪动过。
在我一路狂奔到教室的路上,我的脑子疯狂地转动着,比那个瓶盖还快。只有极少的几个问题得到了解答,而相比之下,却有更多的新问题冉冉升起。至少,雨已经停了。
我很幸运。当我到教室的时候班纳老师还没到。我飞快地坐到座位上,注意到迈克和安吉拉都在盯着我看。迈克看上去一脸忿恨,安吉拉则惊诧不已,还有些许敬畏。
然后,班纳老师走进教室,让全班都安静下来听他说话。他的手里艰难地抱着几个摇摇欲坠的小硬板纸盒。(juggle,我觉得班纳老师的个性没那么浮夸)他把东西都放到迈克的桌子上,让他把纸盒子传给全班同学。
“好啦,同学们,我要求你们每个人,从每个盒子里各拿一片。”他一边说着,一边从自己的实验室大褂的口袋里扯出一对塑胶手套,戴在手上。他用力拽着手套,把它们拉上手腕时所发出尖锐的嘎巴声对我来说是个不祥的预兆。“第一样,是一张指示剂卡片。”他继续说着,拿起一张四角上都有标识的白色卡片,向我们展示。“第二样,是四齿涂敷器——”他举起的东西看起来更像是一个几乎没有锯齿的光滑的剃毛刀片。“——然后,第三样是一把无菌微型刺血针。”他举起一个小小的蓝色塑料包装,把它撕开。在这个距离我不可能看见针上的倒钩,但我的胃还是翻腾起来。
“我会在教室里走动,用滴管往你的卡片上滴一滴水,这样卡片才算准备好,所以在我走到你那里以前先别开始。”他还是先从迈克那桌开始,小心地往每张卡片的四个角各滴了一滴水。“然后,我要你们小心地用刺血针扎一下手指头……”他抓起迈克的手,把针扎进了迈克的中指指头。哦不。我的前额上开始渗出粘湿的冷汗。
“在四齿涂敷器的四个齿上各沾一小滴血。”他还在示范着,挤压着迈克的手指直到血流出来为止。我全身痉挛地吞咽着,胃里一阵沉重。
“然后把涂敷器抹到卡片上。”他完成了,把那张四角都染红了的卡片举起来给我们看。我闭上眼睛,试图无视耳中的嗡嗡声,继续听课。
“下个周末红十字会有一辆义务献血车会开到天使港去,所以我觉得有必要让你们都知道一下自己的血型。”他听起来很自豪。“你们中未满十八岁的人需要有家长的书面同意——相关表格在我的桌子上。”
他拿着滴管,继续在教室里走来走去。我把脸贴在凉凉的黑色桌板上,试图让自己保持神志清醒。在我的周围,我的同学们开始扎自己的手指,我听到了一阵阵的尖叫声,抱怨声和傻笑声。我开始用嘴呼吸,艰难地吸气,呼气。
“贝拉,你还好吧?”班纳老师问道。他的声音离我的头很近,听起来有些惊慌失措。
“我已经知道自己的血型了,班纳老师。”我虚弱地说道。我实在不敢抬起头。
“你是不是觉得头晕?”
“是的,先生。”我含糊地说着,在心里踢了自己一脚,以免自己一有机会就放松警惕,任由自己坠入昏迷中。
“有谁能带贝拉去医务室吗?”他喊道。
我不必抬头也能知道,那个自告奋勇的家伙一定是迈克。
“你还能走路吗?”巴纳老师问道。
“能。”我低声说道。只要能让我离开这里,我想,就是爬我也要爬出去。
迈克似乎相当热衷于此,他一只手环绕在我的腰间,另一只手把我的胳膊拉过他的肩膀。我把重心靠在他身上,一路走出教室。
迈克搀扶着我,慢慢地穿过校园。当我们绕过自助餐厅的一角,走出四号楼里的班纳老师的视线范围——如果他有在看的话——的时候,我停了下来。
“让我在这里坐会儿,好吗?”我恳求道。
他扶着我坐到人行道的边上。
“还有,不管你要做什么,把你的手放回口袋里。”我警告他。我还是觉得头晕目眩。我向着与迈克相反的方向伏倒身子,把脸贴在冰冷潮湿的人行道水泥路面上,闭上了眼睛。这样能让我好受一点。
“哇噢,贝拉,你看上去脸色发青。”迈克焦急地说。
“贝拉?”另一个完全不同的声音从远处传来。
不!这个熟悉得可怕的声音可千万得是我的幻觉。
“怎么回事——她受伤了吗?”现在他的声音更近了,显得有些烦躁不安。这不是我的幻觉。我紧紧地闭着眼睛,真希望就这样死掉算了。或者,至少至少,不要吐出来。
迈克显然感受到了压力:“我想她有点头晕。我不知道是怎么回事,她甚至还没开始扎手指呢。”
“贝拉。”现在爱德华的声音就在我后面,似乎是松了一口气。“你能听见我说话吗?”
“听不见。”我gro_an着。“走开。”  
"I'll take her,"Edward said. I could the smile still in his voice. "You can go back to class."
“不。”迈克抗议道。“这应该是我的工作。”
忽然间,我身下的人行道消失了。我大吃一惊,飞快地睁开眼睛。爱德华把我横_抱在双臂间,轻松得就好像我只有十磅重,而非一百一十磅。
“放我下来!”拜托,拜托别让我吐在他身上。我还没说完,他就大步走了起来。
“嘿!”迈克大喊着,已被甩在了我们身后十步开外的地方。
爱德华根本不理他。“你看起来很吓人。”他咧嘴一笑,对我说道。
“把我放回人行道上。”我发出一声悲鸣。他走路带来的晃动让我很不舒服。他谨慎地把我抱开一些,不再贴着他的身体,而是只用双臂支撑着我的重量——这对他来说似乎毫不费力。
“所以说,你一看到blo_od就晕倒了?”他问道。他似乎觉得这样很有趣。
我没回答。我再次合上双眼,紧紧地闭上嘴巴,用尽全身的力气抑制住恶心的感觉。
“而且那还不是你自己的blo_od。”他自得其乐地继续说道。
我不知道他双手抱着我,是怎么把门打开的。但周围忽然暖和起来,所以我知道我们已经进了屋。
“我的天!”我听到一个女性的声音喘息着说。
“她在生物课上晕倒了。”爱德华解释道。
我睁开了眼睛。我正在办公室里。(刚开始译成总务处实在是个错误。。。)爱德华径直穿过前台,大步向医务室的门走去。科普女士——那位红发的前台接待员——奔到他前面,把门打开。那位祖母般慈祥的护士从一本小说里抬起头,大吃一惊。爱德华侧着身把我抱进房间,轻轻地把我放在那张覆盖在屋里唯一一张帆布床的吹塑床垫上的,脆弱的薄纸上。然后他穿过这间狭小的屋子,走到屋子另一头靠墙站着,尽可能站得离我远些。他的眼睛兴奋得发亮。
他轻笑起来。  
“我要带她去医务室。”迈克用辩白的口吻说道。“但她走不动了。”  
“我会带她去的”,爱德华说。我能嗅到他语气里的坚定。“你可以回去上课了。”
“她只是有点头晕。”他给那位吓得够呛的护士吃了一颗定心丸。“他们在生物课上检测血型。”
护士英明地点了点头:“总会有一两个人这样的。”
他闷笑了一声。
“躺一会儿就好,亲爱的,很快就会没事的。”
“我知道。”我叹息着说。那种恶心感快要消失了。
“你常常这样吗?”她问道。
“有时会。”我承认道。爱德华咳嗽了一声,以掩饰他又一次的轻笑。
“现在你可以回去上课了。”她告诉他。
“我认为我最好还是留在这里陪她。”他的声音里带着某种令人信服的威严。那个护士撅起了嘴,但她没有再说什么。
“亲爱的,我去拿些冰来,给你敷在前额上。”她对我说着,然后匆匆忙忙地走出了房间。
“你说的很对。”我呻吟着,闭上了眼睛。
“我通常都是对的——但这次有什么特殊之处吗?”
“翘课有益健康。”我练习着让自己更均匀地呼吸。(ditch。。。我前面给翻译成了晕迷。。。战线拉得太长果然会出问题。。。)
“在那边,有那么一会儿你把我吓坏了。”他顿了顿,承认道。他的声音听起来像是他在坦承某个丢人的弱点。“我还以为牛顿在把你的尸体拖到树林里埋掉呢。”
“哈哈。”我还是紧闭着双眼,但我能感到自己每分每秒都在好起来。
“老实说——我见过尸体,但它们的气色比你都要好些。我还在想着是不是应该替你向凶手报仇。”
“可怜的迈克,我敢打赌他一定气疯了。”
“他确实恨透我了。”爱德华乐滋滋地说。
“你不可能知道这些。”我反驳道。但随即,我忽然开始怀疑他也许能。
“我看见了他的表情——我敢这么说。”
“你怎么会看见我的?我以为你翘课了。”我现在基本已经没事了,但我想,如果我午餐有吃东西的话,恶心的感觉可能会消失得更快。另一方面,或许我的胃空空如也是件好事。
“我坐在我的车里,在听CD。”一个太过正常的答案——反而让我吃惊不小。
我听到门开了的声音。我睁开眼睛,看见护士手里正拿着一个冰袋。
“亲爱的,到这边来。”她把冰袋敷在我的额头。“你看上去好多了。”她补充道。
“我想,我已经没事了。”我说着,坐了起来。我还有一点耳鸣,但已经不再感到晕眩了。四面干净得像新刷的一样的绿色墙面好好的待在它们应该在的地方。
我看得出她想让我躺回去,但就在这时,门开了。科普女士把头伸了进来。
“又来了一个。”她发出预告。
我跳下床,把床腾出来给下一位伤员。
我把冰袋交还给那位护士:“给你,我不需要这个了。”
然后,迈克步履蹒跚地走进门来,现在他扶着的是一个脸色很差的男生。那是李?斯蒂芬斯,也是我们生物班上的。爱德华和我退到墙边站着,给他们腾出地方。
“哦不。”爱德华喃喃低语道。“到办公室外面去,贝拉。”
我抬头看他,有些不知所措。
“相信我——走吧。”
我立刻转过身去,在门关上以前抓住它,飞快地冲出了医务室。我能感觉到爱德华紧紧地跟着我。
“你居然会听我的话。”他很震惊。
“我闻到了血的味道。”我说着,皱起了鼻子。李跟我不一样,他不是因为看到别人的血而不舒服的。
“人类闻不出血的味道。”他反驳道。
“嗯,我可以——那种味道让我不舒服。闻起来就像是铁锈的味道……还有盐。”
他用一种深不可测的神情注视着我。
“怎么了?”我问道。
“没什么。”
迈克从门里出来,逐个看着我和爱德华。他向爱德华投去的眼神证实了爱德华原来说的话——充满了憎恶。他又看回我身上,眼里写满了怒气。
“你看起来好多了。”他的话里有着指责的意味。
“只管把你的手放回口袋里。”我再次提醒他。
“已经不再流血了。”他沉声说道。“你要回来上课吗?”
“你在说笑吗?那样我又得扭头就走,回到这儿来。”
“好吧,我想也是……你这周末会来吧?去海滩?”他说着,又扫了一眼爱德华。后者正一动不动地站在那张混乱不堪的柜台旁,像尊雕塑一样,看着远处的空气。
我尽量让自己的声音听起来友好些:“当然,我一定会去的。”
“十点,我们在我爸的商店门口集合。”他的眼睛又一次飞快地掠过爱德华,想知道自己是不是透露了太多信息。他的身体语言清楚地表明了这不是一个公开的邀请。
“我会去的。”我保证道。
“那么,体育馆见。”他说着,不太确定地向门口走去。
“回见。”我应声说道。他又看了我一会儿,圆圆的脸上露出了不悦。然后他耷拉着肩膀,慢吞吞地走出门去。一股不断膨胀的同情袭击了我。我思索着,想到自己还得再看一次他那张失落的脸……在体育馆里。
“体育馆。”我呻吟了一声。
“我能照看好自己。”我这才注意到,爱德华站到了我的身旁。但他紧贴着我的耳朵低声说道:“去那边坐下来,装出苍白虚弱的样子。”他的声音近乎呢喃。
这不是什么难事。我一向很苍白,而且刚刚的昏厥让我的脸沁出了一层薄汗。我坐在其中一张吱嘎作响的折叠椅上,头抵着墙,闭目养神。晕厥总让我筋疲力尽。
我听见爱德华站在柜台旁柔声说着话。
“柯普女士?”
“怎么了?”我没听见她回到她的桌子上的声音。
“贝拉的下一堂课是体育课,我觉得她还没恢复到能上体育课的地步。事实上,我觉得我应该现在就把她送回家去。您看,能不能准许她下堂课请假呢?”他的声音甜得像融化的蜂蜜一样。我甚至能想象出,他的眼神会是多么的令人难以抗拒。
“你也需要准假吗,爱德华?”柯普女士急不可耐地说道。为什么我就做不到这一点呢?
“不必了,我有高夫太太呢,她不会介意的。”
“好了,一切都安排好了。你感觉好些了吧,贝拉。”她远远地冲我喊道。我虚弱地点点头,为了显得更夸张一些,我只是略微抬了抬头。
“你能走路吗?或者你想让我再把你抱出去?”一背对着那位接待员,他立刻换上了一副挖苦的表情。
“我能自己走。”
我小心翼翼地站起来,感觉还算良好。他为我撑着门,彬彬有礼地微笑着,眼里却写着嘲弄。我走出屋外,踏入凉丝丝的雨雾里。细雨刚开始下,来得正好。感觉好极了——我头一次开始欣赏这些源源不断从天而降的雨水——它们冲刷着我的脸,洗去那些粘湿的冷汗。
“谢谢。”他紧跟着走出来,我对他说道。“可以不用上体育课,生点病也算是物有所值了。”
“不用谢。”他直视着前方,眯着眼看进雨幕里。
“那么,你会来吗?我是指,这周六?”我确实希望他能来,尽管这不太可能。我无法想象出他背着大包小包,和学校里别的孩子一起搭车旅行的情形。他和我们不是同一个世界的人。我大概只能指望他打击一下我,让我感受到足以击溃我对这次远足的热情的第一波痛苦。
“更确切些,你们要去哪里?”他还是面无表情地直视着前方。
“在拉普什那边,第一湾。”我审视着他的脸,试图读懂他的表情。他似乎眯缝起了眼睛,尽管动作极其微小。
他用眼角瞥了我一眼,挖苦地一笑。“我真的不认为我受到了邀请。”
我叹息道。“我刚刚就是在邀请你。”
“这个星期你我就别再刺激可怜的迈克了。我们都不想让他狗急跳墙吧。”他眨巴着眼。他似乎异常喜欢这个想法。
“迈克——笨蛋迈克。”我喃喃自语着,被他说“你我”时的口吻迷住了。我异常喜欢这个说法。
现在我们离停车场很近了。我下意识地转左,向我的卡车走去。某个东西抓住我的夹克,把我拉了回去。 “你以为自己在向哪里走?”他用一种被激怒了的语气问道。他正一把抓住我的夹克


伊墨君

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Chapter 4 Invitations

  In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed toberadiating from Edward's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his backashe walked away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter howfast Iran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, heneverturned. Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night and couldn'tsleepagain for what seemed like a very long time. After that, he was inmydreams nearly every night, but always on the periphery, neverwithinreach.
  The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first,embarrassing.
  To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the restof thatweek. Tyler Crowley was impossible, following me around, obsessedwithmaking amends to me somehow. I tried to convince him what I wantedmorethan anything else was for him to forget all about it — especiallysincenothing had actually happened to me — but he remained insistent.Hefollowed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table.Mikeand Eric were even less friendly toward him than they were to eachother,which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome fan.
  No one seemed concerned about Edward, though I explained over andoverthat he was the hero — how he had pulled me out of the way and hadnearlybeen crushed, too. I tried to be convincing. Jessica, Mike, Eric,andeveryone else always commented that they hadn't even seen him theretillthe van was pulled away.
  I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so faraway,before he was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin,Irealized the probable cause — no one else was as aware of Edward asIalways was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.
  Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eagerfor hisfirsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullens andthe Halessat at the same table as always, not eating, talking onlyamongthemselves. None of them, especially Edward, glanced my wayanymore.
  When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table wouldallow,he seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, whenhisfists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over thebones— did I wonder if he wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared.
  He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Tyler's van — there was noother conclusion I could come to.
  I wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accidentItried. The last time I'd seen him, outside the ER, we'd both beensofurious. I still was angry that he wouldn't trust me with the truth,eventhough I was keeping my part of the bargain flawlessly. But he hadinfact saved my life, no matter how he'd done it. And, overnight, theheatof my anger faded into awed gratitude.
  He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straightahead. Isat down, expecting him to turn toward me. He showed no signthat herealized I was there.
  "Hello, Edward," I said pleasantly, to show him I was going to behavemyself.
  He turned his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, noddedonce, and then looked the other way.
  And that was the last contact I'd had with him, though he wasthere, afoot away from me, every day. I watched him sometimes, unable tostopmyself— from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot.Iwatched as his golden eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day. Butinclass I gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward me.Iwas miserable. And the dreams continued.
  Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my e-mails alerted Renée tomydepression, and she called a few times, worried. I tried to convinceherit was just the weather that had me down.
  Mike, at least, was pleased by the obvious coolness between me andmy labpartner. I could see he'd been worried that Edward's daring rescuemighthave impressed me, and he was relieved that it seemed to havetheopposite effect. He grew more confident, sitting on the edge of mytableto talk before Biology class started, ignoring Edward as completelyas heignored us.
  The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day.Mikewas disappointed he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight,butpleased that the beach trip would soon be possible. The raincontinuedheavily, though, and the weeks passed.
  Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon —shecalled the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Miketothe girls' choice spring dance in two weeks.
  "Are you sure you don't mind… you weren't planning to ask him?" shepersisted when I told her I didn't mind in the least.
  "No, Jess, I'm not going," I assured her. Dancing was glaringly outsidemy range of abilities.
  "It will be really fun." Her attempt to convince me washalfhearted. Isuspected that Jessica enjoyed my inexplicable popularitymore than myactual company.
  "You have fun with Mike," I encouraged.
  The next day, I was surprised that Jessica wasn't her usual gushingselfin Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my sidebetweenclasses, and I was afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned herdown, Iwas the last person she would want to tell.
  My fears were strengthened during lunch when Jessica sat as farfrom Mikeas possible, chatting animatedly with Eric. Mike was unusuallyquiet.
  Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortablelook onhis face a bad sign. But he didn't broach the subject until I wasin myseat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electricallyawareof Edward sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he weremerelyan invention of my imagination.
  "So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to thespringdance.""That's great." I made my voice bright and enthusiastic."You'll have alot of fun with Jessica.""Well…" He floundered as heexamined my smile, clearly not happy with myresponse. "I told her I hadto think about it.""Why would you do that?" I let disapproval color mytone, though I wasrelieved he hadn't given her an absolute no.
  His face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.
  "I was wondering if… well, if you might be planning to ask me."Ipaused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me.
  But I saw, from the corner of my eye, Edward's head tilt reflexively inmy direction.
  "Mike, I think you should tell her yes," I said.
  "Did you already ask someone?" Did Edward notice how Mike's eyesflickered in his direction?
  "No," I assured him. "I'm not going to the dance at all.""Why not?" Mike demanded.
  I didn't want to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so Iquickly made new plans.
  "I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out oftown anyway — it was suddenly the perfect time to go.
  "Can't you go some other weekend?""Sorry, no," I said. "So youshouldn't make Jess wait any longer — it'srude.""Yeah, you're right," hemumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back tohis seat. I closed myeyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, tryingto push the guilt andsympathy out of my head. Mr. Banner began talking.
  I sighed and opened my eyes.
  And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge offrustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.
  I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. Butinsteadhe continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. Therewas noquestion of me looking away. My hands started to shake.
  "Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that Ihadn't heard.
  "The Krebs Cycle," Edward answered, seeming reluctant as he turned tolook at Mr. Banner.
  I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me, trying tofindmy place. Cowardly as ever, I shifted my hair over my rightshoulder tohide my face. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsingthrough me —just because he'd happened to look at me for the first timein ahalf-dozen weeks. I couldn't allow him to have this level ofinfluenceover me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.
  I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour,and,since that was impossible, at least not to let him know that I wasawareof him. When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him togather mythings, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.
  "Bella?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'dknownthe sound of it all my life rather than for just a few shortweeks.
  I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to feel what I knew Iwouldfeel when I looked at his too-perfect face. My expression was warywhen Ifinally turned to him; his expression was unreadable. He didn'tsayanything.
  "What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked, an unintentionalnote of petulance in my voice.
  His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.
  I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I wasgritting my teeth. He waited.
  "Then what do you want, Edward?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it waseasier to talk to him coherently that way.
  "I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. Butit'sbetter this way, really."I opened my eyes. His face was veryserious.
  "I don't know what you mean," I said, my voice guarded.
  "It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."My eyes narrowed. I'd heard that before.
  "It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," I hissed throughmyteeth. "You could have saved yourself all this regret.""Regret?" Theword, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regretfor what?""Fornot just letting that stupid van squish me."He was astonished. Hestared at me in disbelief.
  When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret savingyour life?""I know you do," I snapped.
  "You don't know anything." He was definitely mad.
  I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw againstall thewild accusations I wanted to hurl at him. I gathered my bookstogether,then stood and walked to the door. I meant to sweepdramatically out ofthe room, but of course I caught the toe of my booton the door jamb anddropped my books. I stood there for a moment,thinking about leavingthem. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. Hewas there; he'd alreadystacked them into a pile. He handed them to me,his face hard.
  "Thank you," I said icily.
  His eyes narrowed.
  "You're welcome," he retorted.
  I straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked off toGym without looking back.
  Gym was brutal. We'd moved on to basketball. My team never passedme theball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I tookpeoplewith me. Today I was worse than usual because my head was sofilled withEdward. I tried to concentrate on my feet, but he keptcreeping back intomy thoughts just when I really needed my balance.
  It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck;therewere just so many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had sufferedonlyminimal damage in the accident. I'd had to replace the taillights,and ifI'd had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Tyler'sparentshad to sell their van for parts.
  I almost had a stroke when I rounded the corner and saw a tall,darkfigure leaning against the side of my truck. Then I realized it wasjustEric. I started walking again.
  "Hey, Eric," I called.
  "Hi, Bella.""What's up?" I said as I was unlocking the door. Iwasn't payingattention to the uncomfortable edge in his voice, so hisnext words tookme by surprise.
  "Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?"His voice broke on the last word.
  "I thought it was girls' choice," I said, too startled to be diplomatic.
  "Well, yeah," he admitted, shamefaced.
  I recovered my composure and tried to make my smile warm. "Thankyou forasking me, but I'm going to be in Seattle that day.""Oh," hesaid. "Well, maybe next time.""Sure," I agreed, and then bit my lip. Iwouldn't want him to take thattoo literally.
  He slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle.
  Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straightforward,his lips pressed together. I yanked the door open and jumpedinside,slamming it loudly behind me. I revved the engine deafeninglyandreversed out into the aisle. Edward was in his car already, twospacesdown, sliding out smoothly in front of me, cutting me off. Hestoppedthere — to wait for his family; I could see the four of themwalking thisway, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out therear of hisshiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. I looked inmy rearviewmirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me,Tyler Crowleywas in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was tooaggravated toacknowledge him.
  While I was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the car infront ofme, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. I looked over;it wasTyler. I glanced back in my rearview mirror, confused. His car wasstillrunning, the door left open. I leaned across the cab to crank thewindowdown. It was stiff. I got it halfway down, then gave up.
  "I'm sorry, Tyler, I'm stuck behind Cullen." I was annoyed — obviouslythe holdup wasn't my fault.
  "Oh, I know — I just wanted to ask you something while we're trappedhere." He grinned.
  This could not be happening.
  "Will you ask me to the spring dance?" he continued.
  "I'm not going to be in town, Tyler." My voice sounded a littlesharp. Ihad to remember it wasn't his fault that Mike and Eric hadalready usedup my quota of patience for the day.
  "Yeah, Mike said that," he admitted.
  "Then why —"He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting him down easy."Okay, it was completely his fault.
  "Sorry, Tyler," I said, working to hide my irritation. "I really amgoingout of town.""That's cool. We still have prom."And before I couldrespond, he was walking back to his car. I could feelthe shock on myface. I looked forward to see Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, andJasper allsliding into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyeswere on me.He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heardevery wordTyler had said. My foot itched toward the gas pedal… onelittle bumpwouldn't hurt any of them, just that glossy silver paint job.
  I revved the engine.
  But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away. I drove home slowly,carefully, muttering to myself the whole way.
  When I got home, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner.It wasa long process, and it would keep me busy. While I was simmeringtheonions and chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it,butit might be Charlie or my mom.
  It was Jessica, and she was jubilant; Mike had caught her afterschool toaccept her invitation. I celebrated with her briefly while Istirred. Shehad to go, she wanted to call Angela and Lauren to tellthem. I suggested— with casual innocence — that maybe Angela, the shygirl who had Biologywith me, could ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffishgirl who had alwaysignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tyler; I'dheard he was stillavailable. Jess thought that was a great idea. Nowthat she was sure ofMike, she actually sounded sincere when she said shewished I would go tothe dance. I gave her my Seattle excuse.
  After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner — dicing thechickenespecially; I didn't want to take another trip to the emergencyroom. Butmy head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward hadspokentoday. What did he mean, it was better if we weren't friends?
  My stomach twisted as I realized what he must have meant. He mustsee howabsorbed I was by him; he must not want to lead me on… so wecouldn'teven be friends… because he wasn't interested in me at all.
  Of course he wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily, my eyesstinging— a delayed reaction to the onions. I wasn't interesting. And hewas.
  Interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect… andbeautiful…and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand.
  Well, that was fine. I could leave him alone. I would leave himalone. Iwould get through my self-imposed sentence here in purgatory,and thenhopefully some school in the Southwest, or possibly Hawaii,would offerme a scholarship. I focused my thoughts on sunny beaches andpalm treesas I finished the enchiladas and put them in the oven.
  Charlie seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled thegreenpeppers. I couldn't blame him — the closest edible Mexican foodwasprobably in southern California. But he was a cop, even if justasmall-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. Heseemedto like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting me inthekitchen.
  "Dad?" I asked when he was almost done.
  "Yeah, Bella?""Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going toSeattle for the daya week from Saturday… if that's okay?" I didn't wantto ask permission —it set a bad precedent — but I felt rude, so I tackedit on at the end.
  "Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine somethingthat Forks couldn't offer.
  "Well, I wanted to get few books — the library here is prettylimited —and maybe look at some clothes." I had more money than I wasused tohaving, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn't had to pay for a car.Not thatthe truck didn't cost me quite a bit in the gas department.
  "That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," he said, echoingmy thoughts.
  "I know, I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia — and Tacoma if I haveto.""Are you going all by yourself?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if hewassuspicious I had a secret boyfriend or just worried about cartrouble.
  "Yes.""Seattle is a big city — you could get lost," he fretted.
  "Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle — and I can read amap,don't worry about it.""Do you want me to come with you?"I tried tobe crafty as I hid my horror.
  "That's all right, Dad, I'll probably just be in dressing rooms allday —very boring.""Oh, okay." The thought of sitting in women'sclothing stores for anyperiod of time immediately put him off.
  "Thanks." I smiled at him.
  "Will you be back in time for the dance?"Grrr. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high schooldances were.
  "No — I don't dance, Dad." He, of all people, should understand that — Ididn't get my balance problems from my mother.
  He did understand. "Oh, that's right," he realized.
  The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, Ideliberatelyparked as far as possible from the silver Volvo. I didn'twant to putmyself in the path of too much temptation and end up owinghim a new car.
  Getting out of the cab, I fumbled with my key and it fell into apuddleat my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out andgrabbed itbefore I could. I jerked upright. Edward Cullen was right nextto me,leaning casually against my truck.
  "How do you do that?" I asked in amazed irritation.
  "Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke. As I reached for it, hedropped it into my palm.
  "Appear out of thin air.""Bella, it's not my fault if you areexceptionally unobservant." Hisvoice was quiet as usual — velvet, muted.
  I scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, adeep,golden honey color. Then I had to look down, to reassemble mynow-tangledthoughts.
  "Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away."Ithought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, notirritatingme to death.""That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. I had togive him his chance." Hesnickered.
  "You…" I gasped. I couldn't think of a bad enough word. It feltlike theheat of my anger should physically burn him, but he only seemedmoreamused.
  "And I'm not pretending you don't exist," he continued.
  "So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler's vandidn't dothe job?"Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed intoa hard line, allsigns of humor gone.
  "Bella, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.
  My palms tingled — I wanted so badly to hit something. I wassurprised atmyself. I was usually a nonviolent person. I turned my backand startedto walk away.
  "Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. Buthe was next to me, easily keeping pace.
  "I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him."I'm notsaying it isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it,anyway.""Why won't you leave me alone?" I grumbled.
  "I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. Heseemed to have recovered his good humor.
  "Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely.
  "You're doing it again."I sighed. "Fine then. What do you want toask?""I was wondering if, a week from Saturday — you know, the day ofthespring dance —""Are you trying to be funny?" I interrupted him,wheeling toward him. Myface got drenched as I looked up at hisexpression.
  His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me tofinish?"I bit my lip and clasped my hands together, interlocking myfingers, so Icouldn't do anything rash.
  "I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wonderingif you wanted a ride."That was unexpected.
  "What?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at.
  "Do you want a ride to Seattle?""With who?" I asked, mystified.
  "Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talkingto someone mentally handicapped.
  I was still stunned. "Why?""Well, I was planning to go to Seattlein the next few weeks, and, to behonest, I'm not sure if your truck canmake it.""My truck works just fine, thank you very much for yourconcern." Istarted to walk again, but I was too surprised to maintainthe same levelof anger.
  "But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my paceagain.
  "I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.
  "The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business.""Honestly,Edward." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, andI hatedit. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to bemyfriend.""I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that Ididn't wantto be.""Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up." Heavysarcasm. I realized I hadstopped walking again. We were under theshelter of the cafeteria roofnow, so I could more easily look at hisface. Which certainly didn't helpmy clarity of thought.
  "It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained.
  "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."His eyeswere gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, hisvoicesmoldering. I couldn't remember how to breathe.
  "Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, still intense.
  I couldn't speak yet, so I just nodded.
  He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious."You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you inclass."He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.
第四章 邀约
在我的梦境里,四下里很暗,仅有的微弱的光芒似乎是从爱德华的肌肤上散发出来的。我看不见他的脸,只能看见他的背影。他正在离我而去,把我留在黑暗中。不管我跑得多快,我都追不上他。不管我喊得多响,他都没有回头。我心绪不宁地在半夜醒来,直到过了很久才能再次睡着。从那以后,他几乎每天晚上都出现在我梦里,但总是离我远远地,在我无法触及的地方。
那场事故之后的一个月,充满了紧张和不安,而最初那几天,还让人发窘。
那一周余下的几天里,我沮丧地发现,自己成为了众人注意的焦点。泰勒?克劳利简直让人无法容忍,无论我上哪里去他都跟着我,喋喋不休地说着要设法补偿我。我试图让他明白,我什么都不需要,只想让他把这一切忘掉——尤其在我没有受到任何伤害的前提下——但他仍然固执己见。每节课下课后他都跟在我后面,午餐时还坐到了我们现在极其拥挤的桌子旁。迈克和埃里克对他很不友好,甚至超过了对彼此的敌意。这让我很是苦恼:我又多了一个不受欢迎的仰慕者。
似乎没人想去关心一下爱德华,尽管我一次又一次地解释说他是我的救命恩人——他怎样把我拉到一旁,差点也被撞上了。我努力想要说服大家。但杰西卡,迈克,埃里克,和别人一样,都说在货车被拉开以前根本没有看到爱德华在那里。
我问我自己,为什么根本没人注意到,在他突然地、几乎不可能地把我救下来以前,他站在那么远的地方。我懊恼地意识到了问题所在——没有人像我那样,总在注意着爱德华。除了我,没有任何人会那样地注视着他。多么可悲的发现。
爱德华从不曾被一群好奇的旁观者围着,渴望着听他描述他的第一手消息。人们像往常一样躲着他。卡伦兄妹和黑尔双胞胎总是坐在同一张桌子旁,什么也不吃,只跟自己人说话。他们,尤其是爱德华,再也不曾看我一眼。
课堂上,当他坐在我旁边时,总是坐到桌子所能容许的离我最远的地方,似乎完全没有注意到我的存在。只有在他的拳头时不时地收紧——绷紧的肌肤几乎要比骨头还白——的时候,我才会怀疑他是不是真的像他表现的那样健忘。
他正巴不得当初没有把我从泰勒的车轮下拉开——我不作他想。
我很想跟他说话,而在事故发生后的第二天我尝试过了。上一次我在急诊室外见到他的时候,我们的反应都太激烈了。我还是很生气,因为他始终不肯信任我,不肯把真相告诉我,尽管我无可挑剔地单方面遵守了协议。但他确实救了我的命,不管他是怎么做到的。所以,经过一夜之后,我的满腔怒火终于消失殆尽,化为了由衷的感激之情。
当我走进生物教室时,他已经坐到了座位上,直直地看着前方。我坐下来,希望他转向我。但他没有流露出半点意识到我在场的迹象。
“你好,爱德华。”我和颜悦色地说道,向他表面我正在自我检讨。
他略微侧过脸来,看也不看我,只是点了点头,然后看向别处。
这就是我最后一次和他接触的全部内容。虽然,每一天,他都在那里,离我只有一英尺的距离。有时侯我会看着他,完全没办法让自己停下来——但只是远远地看着他,在自助餐厅里,或是在停车场上。我看着他,发觉他金色的双眸明显变黑了,每一天都在变得更黑。但在课堂上,我对他的注意,不会比他对我表现出来的更多。我陷入了极其悲惨的境地。而那个梦仍在继续。
虽然我一直在说谎,但我的电子邮件的内容还是让蕾妮察觉到了我的消沉。她时不时给我打电话,担心着我。我试图让她相信我的情绪低落完全是由天气造成的。
至少,迈克对我和我的实验小组搭档之间的冷战感到很高兴。我看得出,他本来还在担心爱德华英雄救美的举动会让我对他产生好感,现在他很宽慰地看到这件事似乎适得其反。他变得更有信心了,总是坐在我的桌旁和我聊天直到生物课开始为止,完全无视爱德华的存在,就像他无视我们一样。
在那个危险的冰雪天之后,积雪被雨水永远地冲走了。迈克很失望,他还没来得及开展他的雪球大战呢。但海滩之旅很快就要到了,这一点让他略感安慰。尽管,一周周过去了,大雨仍在继续。
杰西卡让我了解到了另一件日益逼近的大事。三月里的第一个周二,她打电话给我,希望能得到我的许可,去邀请迈克和她一起参加两周后的春季女生择伴舞会。
“你真的不介意?……你不打算邀请他吗?”当我告诉她我一点都不介意时,她固执地追问。
“不,杰西,我不会去的。”我向她保证。跳舞显然超出了我的能力范围。
“舞会是很有意思的。”她半心半意地试图说服我。我有时觉得,杰西卡跟我做朋友更多是因为我莫名其妙的超高人气,而不是真的喜欢和我待在一起。
“祝你跟迈克过得愉快。”我鼓励她。
第二天的三角函数课和西班牙语课上,我惊讶地发现杰西卡不像往常一样滔滔不绝地自说自话了。课间我们一起走的时候,她一直沉默着。我实在不敢问她为什么。如果迈克拒绝了她的邀约,我一定是她最不想告诉的人。
午餐的时候,我更加担心起来,因为杰西卡坐得离迈克远远的,和埃里克聊得很起劲。迈克显得异常地安静。
迈克陪我向教室走去,一路上继续沉默着,他脸上不自在的表情是个坏兆头。但他始终没有提出这个话题,直到我坐到座位上,他靠在我桌子上为止。和往常一样,我像被电了一下,意识到爱德华虽然坐得在触手可及的地方,却如此遥远,仿佛他只是我虚构出来的一个梦。
“那个,”迈克看着地板,说道。“杰西卡邀请我和她一起参加春季舞会。”
“好极了。”我让自己的声音显得明朗又热情。“你跟杰西卡一起会过得很愉快的。”
“嗯……”他审视着我的微笑,挣扎着,显然对我的反应很不高兴。“我告诉她我要想一下。”
“为什么你要这样做?”我让自己的语气带上一点失望的色彩,虽然我感到很宽慰,幸亏他没有一口回绝她。
他又一次低下头,一脸的坦然。(bright?不可能是高兴吧?)内疚让我的决心有点动摇了。
“我还以为也许……嗯,也许你会邀请我的。”
我停顿了片刻,厌恶着在心底翻滚着的内疚之情。但从眼角的余光,我看到了,爱德华好像条件反射一样,向我这边侧过头来。
“迈克,我想你应该接受她的邀约。”我说。
“你已经邀请别人了吗?”爱德华有没有注意到,迈克的眼睛飞快地掠过他的方向呢?
“没有。”我向他保证。“我根本没打算去舞会。”
“为什么不去?”迈克诘问道。
我不想冒着生命危险到舞会上去,试探我的运气。于是,我迅速想出了一个新的计划。
“那个周六我要去西雅图。”我解释道。反正我需要去镇外透透气——那个周六忽然成为了出发的最佳时刻。
“你不能找别的周末去吗?”
“抱歉,不能。”我说。“所以,你也别让杰西再等了——这太没礼貌了。”
“是啊,你说的没错。”他喃喃地说着,沮丧地转过身,回到他的座位上去。我闭上眼睛,用手指按住太阳穴,试图把内疚和同情逼出我的脑海。班纳老师开始讲课了。我叹了口气,睁开双眼。
爱德华正好奇地盯着我,他的黑眼睛里闪烁着和上次一样的,熟悉的挫败感,这种感觉甚至比上一次还要明显。
我很惊讶,但还是盯回去,希望他能快点移开视线。但他却一直凝视着我的眼睛,眼神直接而深邃。毫无疑问,只能是我移开目光了。我的手开始颤抖。
“卡伦先生?”老师点了他的名字,要他回答某个我根本没听到的问题。
“三羧酸循环。”爱德华回过头去看着班纳老师,很不耐烦地答道。
他的眼睛刚放开我,我立刻低下头看着我的课本,试图找到老师正在讲的地方。我甚至怯懦到把头发拢到右肩上垂下来,挡住我的脸。我简直不敢相信,我的全身居然都被涌起的一股激动之情给席卷了——仅仅因为这是在隔了一周半以后第一次,他碰巧看了看我。我不能容忍他这样左右我的情绪。这太可悲了。比可悲更甚的是,这有害于我的健康。
那堂课剩下的时间里,我竭力不让自己去注意他。虽然,这不太可能,至少不能让他知道我在注意他。当铃声响起时,我转身背对着他,开始收拾东西,希望他能像平常一样立刻离开。
“贝拉?”我不应该这样熟悉他的声音的。就好像他的声音我已经听了整整一辈子,而不是只有短短的几个星期。  
我很不情愿地,慢慢转过身去。我不想体验那种感受,那种我早就知道的,当我凝视着他太过俊美的面庞时,我所感觉到的一切。当我看向他的时候,脸上写满了警惕。他的表情有些难以琢磨。他什么也没说。
“怎么了?你又开始跟我说话了?”我最终还是开口问道。我的声音里充满了火药味,虽然我不是故意的。
他的嘴唇抽动了一下,用微笑来反击我。“不,确切的说,不是。”他承认道。
我闭上眼睛,用鼻子缓缓地吸了一口气,注意到自己正在咬牙切齿。他在等着。
“那你想干嘛,爱德华?”我问道,依然闭着眼睛。这样跟他说话能说得更有条理些。
“对不起。”他的声音很诚恳。“我知道,我太粗鲁了。但这样会更好,真的。”
我睁开双眼。他的神情很严肃。
“我不明白你什么意思。”我说道,声音里充满了警惕。
“如果我们不是朋友,会更好些。”他解释道。“相信我。”
我眯缝起眼睛。我之前听过这样的话。
“真遗憾,你没有更早地想到这一点。”我从牙缝里挤出这句话。“你本来可以把自己从这种后悔中拯救出来的。”
“后悔?”这个字眼,还有我的语气,显然让他失去了警惕心。“后悔什么?”
“后悔没让那辆愚蠢的货车从我身上碾过去。”
他被震住了。他难以置信地看着我。
等到他终于可以开口说话时,他的声音听起来快要抓狂了:“你认为我后悔救了你的命?”
“我知道你是这样想的。”我嚷道。
“你什么也不知道。”他显然已经抓狂了。
我干脆地扭过头去,紧紧地闭着嘴,以免失控地喊出我想要扔到他头上的所有责难。我把书叠成一摞,然后站起来向门口走去。我想要气势汹汹地冲出门外,但是,当然,我的靴子绊到了门框,怀里的书散落一地。我站了一会儿,想让它们就这样在地上躺着算了。最终,我叹了口气,弯下身子想把它们捡起来。他蹲在那里,已经把书都堆成一堆了。然后他把书递给我,脸上冷冰冰的。
“谢谢。”我冷淡地说。
他眯缝起眼晴。
“不客气。”他回敬道。
我随即直起身子,再次转身离开他,头也不回地昂首阔步向体育馆走去。
体育课太残忍了。我们开始学篮球了。我的队友从不把球传给我,这点很不错,但我老是摔倒。有时候我还会连累别人跟我一起倒下去。今天我的状态比平时更糟,因为我脑子里全是爱德华的身影。我想要把注意力集中在脚上,但他总在我需要保持平衡的时候闯进我的思绪里。
像往常一样,放学是件让人宽慰的事。我几乎一路跑着向我的卡车冲去:这里有太多我想要逃避的人。在这场事故里,我的卡车所受的伤害微乎其微。我只需要把尾灯给换掉,就算我确实有一些喷漆的工作要做,我也已经搞定了。泰勒的爸妈只能把他们那辆货车当废品给卖掉了。
当我转过拐角,看到一个高大的、黝黑的身影靠在我的卡车上时,我差点吓得心跳停拍。然后我意识到那只是埃里克。我继续走过去。
“嗨,埃里克。”我招呼道。
“嗨,贝拉。”
“怎么了?”我一边打开车锁,一边问道。我没有注意到他的声音有些古怪,所以他接下来说出的话让我大吃一惊。
“嗯,我只是在想……你愿不愿意和我一起去春季舞会?”他的声音在最后一个字上戛然而止。
“我想,那是一场女生择伴舞会,对吧。”我说道,因为太吃惊而没法说得更圆滑些。
“嗯,是的。”他羞愧地承认。
我恢复了镇静,试图笑得更温和些。“谢谢你邀请我,但我那天要去西雅图。”
“哦,”他说。“那好吧,也许下次吧。”
“好的。”我赞同道,然后咬住唇。我不想让他按字面上的意思来理解我的话。
他无精打采地走开,向学校里走去。我听到一阵低低的嗤笑。
爱德华正从我的车前走过,眼睛直视着前方,他的嘴唇又紧紧地闭在了一起。我猛地拉开车门,跳进车里,然后重重地把身后的门关上。我发动引擎,发出震耳欲聋的轰鸣声,然后把车倒出车道。在离我两个停车位远的地方,爱德华已经坐在车里了。他把车平稳地开到我的车前,挡住了我的去路。他停在那里——等他的家人。我可以看到他们四个还在路上走着,才走到自助餐厅那里。我真想一踩油门直接撞到他那辆银光闪闪的沃尔沃上,但这里有太多目击者了。我看向后视镜,在我的车后,一长排车龙正在形成。我后面的第一辆车,是泰勒刚弄到的二手森特拉,他正坐在车里向我挥手。我正在气头上,没空跟他打招呼。
当我坐在车里东张西望,就是不看我前面那辆车的时候,我听到有人在敲乘客座的窗户。我看过去,是泰勒。我困惑地看了一眼后视镜。他的车没熄火,左侧的车门开着。我把身子侧到驾驶室的另一边,把窗子摇下来。窗子卡死了。我吃力地把它摇下一半,然后放弃了。
“对不起,泰勒,我被堵在了卡伦后面。”我很生气——很显然,塞车不是我的错。
“哦,我知道——我只是想趁我们被困在这里的时候向你问件事。”他咧嘴一笑。
这一切不该发生的。
“你愿意邀请我去春季舞会吗?”他继续说道。
“我那时不在镇里,泰勒。”我的声音听起来有些尖锐。我不得不记住这不是他的错,但迈克和埃里克已经把我今天的份额的耐心都给耗光了。
“是的,迈克说过了。”他承认道。
“那为什么——”
他耸耸肩。“我以为那只是你用来让他不那么失望的借口。”
很好,这全是他的错。
“对不起,泰勒。”我说道,竭力抑制住自己的怒火。“我真的要去镇外面。”
“没关系。我们还有正式舞会。”
在我能作出回应以前,他已经走回他的车那里了。我可以感受到我脸上的震惊。我向前看,发现爱丽丝,罗莎莉,艾美特和贾斯帕已经坐进那辆沃尔沃里了。在那辆车的后视镜里,爱德华正注视着我。毫无疑问,他正笑得浑身颤抖,就好像他听见了泰勒说的每个字。我的脚渴望地向油门伸去……一次小小的撞击不会让他们中的任何人受伤的,只意味着要给那辆银光闪闪的沃尔沃平整喷漆而已。我发动了引擎。
但一等他们都坐进车里,爱德华就加速把车开走了。我只能慢吞吞地,小心翼翼地把车开回家,一路上不停地低声向自己咒骂着。
当我到家的时候,我决定晚餐做鸡肉馅玉米卷饼。这要花不少时间,能让我一直忙个不停。当我把洋葱和红辣椒小火煨成酱汁时,电话响起来。我不敢接电话,但这可能是查理或者我妈打来的。
电话是杰西卡打来的,她正兴高采烈着:放学后查理截住她,答应了她的邀请。我一边搅拌锅里的酱汁,一边简短地祝贺了她几句。她要挂电话了,她还得给安吉拉和劳伦打电话,把这个好消息告诉她们。我佯装着毫不知情的样子建议道,那个和我一起上生物课的安静的安吉拉可以去邀请埃里克,而劳伦——那个总在午餐餐桌上无视我的冷淡的女孩——可以去问问泰勒,我听说他还没约人。杰西觉得这是个不错的主意。既然她已经确定要和迈克一起去了,她说她真的希望我能去舞会时,声音听起来真诚多了。我照例用要去西雅图的借口打发了她。
等我挂了电话,我开始努力集中注意力准备晚餐——尤其是把鸡肉切丁的时候。我可不想再来一次急诊室之旅了。但我的脑子里还是乱哄哄的,试图分析今天爱德华说的每一个字。“我们最好别做朋友”,他这样说是什么意思?
当我意识到他在暗示什么的时候,我的胃一阵抽搐。他肯定是看出来,我被他深深地吸引了。他不想欺骗我的感情……所以我们最好连朋友都不要做……因为他对我一点兴趣都没有。
当然,他不会对我有任何兴趣,我气愤地想着。我的眼睛一阵刺痛——只是来得稍晚的,对洋葱的反应。我确实很乏味。但他不是。有趣……有才气……神秘……完美……英俊……或许还能单手举起标准型号的货车。
好,很好。我可以不打扰他。我根本不想打扰他。我会在这里把我给自己判处的有期徒刑服完,然后兴许西南的某所大学,也许是夏威夷大学,会给我提供一份奖学金。当我把鸡肉馅玉米卷饼做完,放到锅里的时候,我竭力想着阳光灿烂的海滩和棕榈树。
当查理回到家,闻到青椒的味道时,他似乎有点疑惑。我不会责怪他的——离这里最近的能吃到墨西哥菜的餐厅很可能在南加利福尼亚。但他是个cop,就算只是个小镇cop,他也有足够的勇气去咬下第一口。他似乎挺喜欢这个味道。看着他渐渐地开始信任我的厨艺是件有趣的事。
“爸爸?”当他快吃完的时候我问道。
“怎么了,贝拉?”
“嗯,我只是想让你知道,下周六我想去趟西雅图……如果可以的话?”我本来不打算请求他的准许——这会开一个不好的先河——但我觉得这样有点不礼貌,所以最后我又找补了一句。
“为什么?”他似乎很吃惊,就像是他不能想象有什么东西是在福克斯找不到的。
“嗯,我只是去买点书——这里的图书馆库存太有限了——也许再看几件衣服。”我手头的钱多得我都有点不习惯了。多亏了查理,我不必自己花钱买车。不过这辆卡车的油耗可没让我少花钱。
“那辆卡车的油耗可能不太好。”他说着,显然和我想到一块去了。
“我知道,我会在蒙特撒诺和奥林匹亚停下来加油——如果有必要的话,也会在塔克马停一下。”
“你一个人去吗?”他问道。我不知道他是在怀疑我秘密地交了一个男朋友,还是纯粹在担心车的问题。
“是的。”
“西雅图是个大城市——你可能会迷路的。”他有点发愁。
“爸爸,凤凰城是西雅图的五倍大——而且我能看懂地图,别担心。”
“你想跟我一起去吗?”
我尽量巧妙地隐藏起听到这话时油然而生的恐惧。
“没问题,爸爸,不过我可能会在试衣间里耗上一整天——那会很无趣的。”
“哦,那好吧。”一想到要坐在女装店里,不管要坐多久,都足够吓得他打了退堂鼓。
“谢谢。”我冲他笑了笑。
“你会及时赶回来参加舞会吧?”
呃。只有在小镇上,当爸爸的才会知道中学里什么时候举行舞会。
“不——我不跳舞,爸爸。”他应该比任何人都清楚——我难以保持平衡的毛病可不是遗传自我妈。
他确实清楚。“哦,那好吧。”他明白了。
第二天早上,我把车开进停车场时,故意把车停得离那辆银色的沃尔沃远远的。我不想让自己经受不住诱惑,最后落得赔他一辆新车。我刚走出驾驶室,钥匙就从我的指间滑落下来,掉到我脚步的一滩积水里。我弯腰去捡的时候,一只雪白的手忽然伸过来,在我之前把钥匙抓住了。我立刻直起身子。爱德华?卡伦就站在我旁边,若无其事地倚着我的卡车。
“你怎么做到的?”我恼羞成怒地问道。
“做到什么?”他一边说着,一边举起我的钥匙。等我伸手拿的时候,他让钥匙落入我的掌心。
“在稀薄的空气里出现。”(这句绝对出自哈利波特!!!幻影显形!!!)
“贝拉,你心不在焉得过分可不是我的错。”他的声音像往常一样——像天鹅绒一样柔软。
我阴沉着脸,瞪着他完美无瑕的面庞。今天他眼睛的颜色又变浅了,是一种色调偏深的,金黄的蜜色。我不得不低下头,召回自己当下已经陷入混乱的神志。
“昨天晚上的交通堵塞是怎么回事?”我依然看着别处,诘问到。“我想你更可能是假装没注意到我存在,而不是想把我气死。”
“这是为了泰勒,可不是为了我自己。我想给他个机会。”他窃笑着。
“你……”我喘息着,想不到一个足够坏的词。感觉像是我的怒火的烈焰都能把他烤焦了,他还是只觉得很好玩。
“我也没有假装没注意到你的存在。”他继续说道。
“所以你想把我活活气死?只因为泰勒的货车没有做到这一点?”
愤怒从他黄褐色的眼睛里一闪而过。他的嘴唇抿紧成一条坚硬的线条,所有幽默的气氛都不见。
“贝拉,你简直不可理喻。”他说道,低沉的嗓音听起来冷冰冰。
我的掌心一阵刺痛——我迫切地想找个什么东西来好好揍一顿。我对自己的想法很吃惊。我通常是个非vi_olient主义者。我转过身去,大步走开。
“等等。”他叫道。我继续走着,愤怒地踢溅起了不少雨水。可他紧跟在我后面,轻而易举地跟上我的步子。
“我很抱歉,这些话太失礼了。”我们一边走,他一边说道。我无视他。“我不是说这些不是实话。”他继续说道。“但不管怎样,这样说真的太没礼貌了。”
“你为什么不能让我一个人待着?”我喃喃地抱怨道。
“我想问你些事,但你总在转移话题。”他笑起来。他似乎已经恢复了他良好的幽默感。
“你有多重人格吗?”我激烈地问。
“你又来了。”
我叹息道。“那好吧,你想问什么?”
“我只是想知道,下周六——你知道,春季舞会那天——”
“你是在搞笑吗?”我打断他的话,停下来转向他。当我抬头看向他的时候,我的脸都被雨水打湿了。
他的眼睛看上去快乐得有些恶毒。“你愿意让我说完吗?”
我咬住唇,双手紧握在一起,十指相扣,这样我就不致于做出什么鲁莽的事来了。
“我听说你那天要去西雅图。我想知道你愿不愿意搭我的便车。”
这话实在出乎我的意料。
“什么?”我不确定他在指什么。
“你想搭便车去西雅图吗?”
“跟谁去?”我困惑地问。
“很显然,跟我。”他把每个音节都发得很清晰,就好像他在跟某个智障人士对话一样。
我依然沉浸在震惊之中不能自拔。“为什么?”
“嗯,我刚好打算要在这几周去趟西雅图,而且,坦白地说,我不觉得你的卡车能开到西雅图去。”
“我的卡车性能良好,谢谢你的关心。”我继续往前走,但我太吃惊了,没办法维持我的愤怒在原来的水平上。
“可你的车要开到那里,一箱油够用吗?”他继续跟着我的步子。
“我不觉得这跟你有什么关系。”愚蠢的,银光闪闪的沃尔沃车主。
“浪费有限的资源跟每个人都有关系。”
“老实说,爱德华。”当我说到他的名字时,我感到一阵颤栗传遍了我的全身。我讨厌这样。“我实在跟不上你的思路。我以为你不想和我做朋友。”
“我只是说如果我们不是朋友,会更好些,但并不是说我不想这样。”
“哦,谢谢,现在一切都清楚了。”巨大的讽刺。我发觉自己停了下来。现在我们站在了自助餐厅的屋檐下,所以我可以更容易地看着他的脸。但这显得对我理清思路没有任何帮助。
“如果……如果你不是我的朋友,这样情况会更谨慎些。”他解释道。“但我厌倦了,我不想再费尽心思地把自己从你身边赶走,贝拉。”
他的眼睛闪闪发光,显得非常紧张。当他说完最后一句话时,他的声音仿佛在燃烧。我忘了要怎么呼吸。
“你愿意和我一起去西雅图吗?”他问道,依然有些紧张。
我还说不出话来,所以我只是点了点头。
他淡淡一笑,然后他的脸严肃起来。
“你真的应该离我远远的。”他警告道。“我们上课时见。”
他陡然转过身去,沿着原路走回去。

[ 此帖被伊墨君在2013-02-27 17:23重新编辑 ]
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Chapter 3 Phenomenon

   When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different.
  It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a cloudy dayinthe forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized there was nofogveiling my window.
  I jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror.
  A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck,andwhitened the road. But that wasn't the worst part. All the rainfromyesterday had frozen solid — coating the needles on the treesinfantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly iceslick.
  I had enough trouble not falling down when the ground was dry; it mightbe safer for me to go back to bed now.
  Charlie had left for work before I got downstairs. In a lot ofways,living with Charlie was like having my own place, and I foundmyselfreveling in the aloneness instead of being lonely.
  I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice fromthecarton. I felt excited to go to school, and that scared me. I knewitwasn't the stimulating learning environment I was anticipating, orseeingmy new set of friends. If I was being honest with myself, I knew Iwaseager to get to school because I would see Edward Cullen. And thatwasvery, very stupid.
  I should be avoiding him entirely after my brainless andembarrassingbabbling yesterday. And I was suspicious of him; why shouldhe lie abouthis eyes? I was still frightened of the hostility Isometimes feltemanating from him, and I was still tongue-tied whenever Ipictured hisperfect face. I was well aware that my league and hisleague were spheresthat did not touch. So I shouldn't be at all anxiousto see him today.
  It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icybrickdriveway alive. I almost lost my balance when I finally got to thetruck,but I managed to cling to the side mirror and save myself.Clearly, todaywas going to be nightmarish.
  Driving to school, I distracted myself from my fear of falling andmyunwanted speculations about Edward Cullen by thinking about MikeandEric, and the obvious difference in how teenage boys responded tomehere. I was sure I looked exactly the same as I had in Phoenix. Maybeitwas just that the boys back home had watched me pass slowly throughallthe awkward phases of adolescence and still thought of me that way.
  Perhaps it was because I was a novelty here, where novelties werefew andfar between. Possibly my crippling clumsiness was seen asendearingrather than pathetic, casting me as a damsel in distress.Whatever thereason, Mike's puppy dog behavior and Eric's apparentrivalry with himwere disconcerting. I wasn't sure if I didn't preferbeing ignored.
  My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that coveredtheroads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a pathofdestruction through Main Street.
  When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had solittletrouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the backof thetruck — carefully holding the side for support — to examine mytires.
  There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them.
  Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck.
  My throat suddenly felt tight. I wasn't used to being taken care of, andCharlie's unspoken concern caught me by surprise.
  I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fightbackthe sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when Iheardan odd sound.
  It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. Ilooked up, startled.
  I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slowmotion,the way it does in the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rushseemed tomake my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb inclear detailseveral things at once.
  Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at meinhorror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in thesamemask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the dark bluevanthat was skidding, tires locked and squealing against thebrakes,spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was goingto hitthe back corner of my truck, and I was standing between them. Ididn'teven have time to close my eyes.
  Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding aroundthetruck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction Iwasexpecting. My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I feltsomethingsolid and cold pinning me to the ground. I was lying on thepavementbehind the tan car I'd parked next to. But I didn't have achance tonotice anything else, because the van was still coming. It hadcurledgratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning andsliding,was about to collide with me again.
  A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voicewasimpossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot outprotectivelyin front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot frommy face, thelarge hands fitting providentially into a deep dent in theside of thevan's body.
  Then his hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenlygrippingunder the body of the van, and something was dragging me,swinging mylegs around like a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of thetan car. Agroaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled,glass popping,onto the asphalt — exactly where, a second ago, my legshad been.
  It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began.
  In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name.
  But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edward Cullen's low,frantic voice in my ear.
  "Bella? Are you all right?""I'm fine." My voice sounded strange. Itried to sit up, and realized hewas holding me against the side of hisbody in an iron grasp.
  "Be careful," he warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your headprettyhard."I became aware of a throbbing ache centered above my leftear.
  "Ow," I said, surprised.
  "That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he wassuppressing laughter.
  "How in the…" I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings.
  "How did you get over here so fast?""I was standing right next to you, Bella," he said, his tone seriousagain.
  I turned to sit up, and this time he let me, releasing his holdaround mywaist and sliding as far from me as he could in the limitedspace. Ilooked at his concerned, innocent expression and was disorientedagain bythe force of his gold-colored eyes. What was I asking him?
  And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down theirfaces, shouting at each other, shouting at us.
  "Don't move," someone instructed.
  "Get Tyler out of the van!" someone else shouted.
  There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Edward'scold hand pushed my shoulder down.
  "Just stay put for now.""But it's cold," I complained. It surprisedme when he chuckled under hisbreath. There was an edge to the sound.
  "You were over there," I suddenly remembered, and his chucklestoppedshort. "You were by your car."His expression turned hard. "No, Iwasn't.""I saw you." All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffervoices ofadults arriving on the scene. But I obstinately held on to ourargument;I was right, and he was going to admit it.
  "Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way."Heunleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on me, as if tryingtocommunicate something crucial.
  "No." I set my jaw.
  The gold in his eyes blazed. "Please, Bella.""Why?" I demanded.
  "Trust me," he pleaded, his soft voice overwhelming.
  I could hear the sirens now. "Will you promise to explain everything tome later?""Fine," he snapped, abruptly exasperated.
  "Fine," I repeated angrily.
  It took six EMTs and two teachers — Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp — toshiftthe van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in.Edwardvehemently refused his, and I tried to do the same, but thetraitor toldthem I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. I almostdied ofhumiliation when they put on the neck brace. It looked like theentireschool was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the backof theambulance. Edward got to ride in the front. It was maddening.
  To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safelyaway.
  "Bella!" he yelled in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher.
  "I'm completely fine, Char — Dad," I sighed. "There's nothing wrongwithme."He turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion. I tuned himout toconsider the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically inmyhead. When they'd lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deepdentin the tan car's bumper — a very distinct dent that fit the contoursofEdward's shoulders… as if he had braced himself against the carwithenough force to damage the metal frame…And then there was hisfamily, looking on from the distance, withexpressions that ranged fromdisapproval to fury but held no hint ofconcern for their brother'ssafety.
  I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what Ihad justseen — a solution that excluded the assumption that I wasinsane.
  Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the countyhospital. Ifelt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading me. Whatmade it worsewas that Edward simply glided through the hospital doorsunder his ownpower. I ground my teeth together.
  They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line ofbedsseparated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuffon myarm and a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one botheredpulling thecurtain around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn'tobligated towear the stupid-looking neck brace anymore. When the nursewalked away, Iquickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed.
  There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcherbroughtto the bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from myGovernmentclass beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly aroundhis head.
  Tyler looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But he was staringanxiously at me.
  "Bella, I'm so sorry!""I'm fine, Tyler — you look awful, are youall right?" As we spoke,nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages,exposing a myriad of shallowslices all over his forehead and left cheek.
  He ignored me. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going toofast,and I hit the ice wrong…" He winced as one nurse started dabbing athisface.
  "Don't worry about it; you missed me.""How did you get out of theway so fast? You were there, and then youwere gone…""Umm… Edward pulledme out of the way."He looked confused. "Who?""Edward Cullen — he wasstanding next to me." I'd always been a terribleliar; I didn't soundconvincing at all.
  "Cullen? I didn't see him… wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is heokay?""I think so. He's here somewhere, but they didn't make him useastretcher."I knew I wasn't crazy. What had happened? There was no wayto explainaway what I'd seen.
  They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. I told them therewasnothing wrong, and I was right. Not even a concussion. I asked if Icouldleave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So Iwastrapped in the ER, waiting, harassed by Tyler's constant apologiesandpromises to make it up to me. No matter how many times I triedtoconvince him I was fine, he continued to torment himself. Finally,Iclosed my eyes and ignored him. He kept up a remorseful mumbling.
  "Is she sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open.
  Edward was standing at the foot of my bed, smirking. I glared at him. Itwasn't easy — it would have been more natural to ogle.
  "Hey, Edward, I'm really sorry —" Tyler began.
  Edward lifted a hand to stop him.
  "No blood, no foul," he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. Hemoved tosit on the edge of Tyler's bed, facing me. He smirked again.
  "So, what's the verdict?" he asked me.
  "There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go,"Icomplained. "How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the restofus?""It's all about who you know," he answered. "But don't worry, Icame tospring you."Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouthfell open. He wasyoung, he was blond… and he was handsomer than anymovie star I'd everseen. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, withcircles under hiseyes. From Charlie's description, this had to beEdward's father.
  "So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice,"howare you feeling?""I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped.
  He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head, and turned it on.
  "Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edward saidyouhit it pretty hard.""It's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing aquick scowl toward Edward.
  The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed whenI winced.
  "Tender?" he asked.
  "Not really." I'd had worse.
  I heard a chuckle, and looked over to see Edward's patronizing smile. Myeyes narrowed.
  "Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now.
  But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesightatall.""Can't I go back to school?" I asked, imagining Charlie trying tobeattentive.
  "Maybe you should take it easy today."I glanced at Edward. "Does heget to go to school?""Someone has to spread the good news that wesurvived," Edward saidsmugly.
  "Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to bein thewaiting room.""Oh no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands.
  Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?""No, no!" Iinsisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed andhopping downquickly. Too quickly — I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caughtme. He lookedconcerned.
  "I'm fine," I assured him again. No need to tell him my balance problemshad nothing to do with hitting my head.
  "Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me.
  "It doesn't hurt that bad," I insisted.
  "It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as hesigned my chart with a flourish.
  "Lucky Edward happened to be standing next to me," I amended with a hardglance at the subject of my statement.
  "Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with thepapers infront of him. Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to thenext bed.
  My intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.
  "I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer,"he said to Tyler, and began checking his cuts.
  As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edward's side.
  "Can I talk to you for a minute?" I hissed under my breath. He took astep back from me, his jaw suddenly clenched.
  "Your father is waiting for you," he said through his teeth.
  I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.
  "I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," I pressed.
  He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room.Inearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner intoashort hallway, he spun around to face me.
  "What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold.
  His unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with lessseveritythan I'd intended. "You owe me an explanation," I reminded him.
  "I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."I flinched back fromthe resentment in his voice. "You promised.""Bella, you hit your head,you don't know what you're talking about." Histone was cutting.
  My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at him. "There'snothingwrong with my head."He glared back. "What do you want from me,Bella?""I want to know the truth," I said. "I want to know why I'm lyingforyou.""What do you think happened?" he snapped.
  It came out in a rush.
  "All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me — Tyler didn't seeyou,either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was goingtocrush us both — and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the sideofit — and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all—and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…"Icould hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so madIcould feel the tears coming; I tried to force them back by grindingmyteeth together.
  He was staring at me incredulously. But his face was tense, defensive.
  "You think I lifted a van off you?" His tone questioned my sanity,but itonly made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly deliveredline by askilled actor.
  I merely nodded once, jaw tight.
  "Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice held an edge of derisionnow.
  "I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word slowly, carefullycontrolling my anger.
  Surprise flitted across his face. "Then why does it matter?""Itmatters to me," I insisted. "I don't like to lie — so there'd betterbe agood reason why I'm doing it.""Can't you just thank me and get overit?""Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant.
  "You're not going to let it go, are you?""No.""In that case… Ihope you enjoy disappointment."We scowled at each other in silence. Iwas the first to speak, trying tokeep myself focused. I was in danger ofbeing distracted by his livid,glorious face. It was like trying tostare down a destroying angel.
  "Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly.
  He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedlyvulnerable.
  "I don't know," he whispered.
  And then he turned his back on me and walked away.
  I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When Icouldwalk, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.
  The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemedlikeevery face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Charlie rushedto myside; I put up my hands.
  "There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him sullenly. I was stillaggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.
  "What did the doctor say?""Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I wasfine and I could go home." Isighed. Mike and Jessica and Eric were allthere, beginning to convergeon us. "Let's go," I urged.
  Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and ledme tothe glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends,hoping toconvey that they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a hugerelief— thefirst time I'd ever felt that way — to get into the cruiser.
  We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that Ibarelyknew Charlie was there. I was positive that Edward's defensivebehaviorin the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I stillcould hardlybelieve I'd witnessed.
  When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke.
  "Um… you'll need to call Renée." He hung his head, guilty.
  I was appalled. "You told Mom!""Sorry."I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out.
  My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fineatleast thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to comehome— forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment — but herpleaswere easier to resist than I would have thought. I was consumed bythemystery Edward presented. And more than a little obsessed byEdwardhimself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I wasn't as eager to escape Forksas Ishould be, as any normal, sane person would be.
  I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Charliecontinuedto watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. Istopped on myway to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. They did help,and, as thepain eased, I drifted to sleep.That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.
第三章 奇迹


早上,当我睁开眼睛时,发现事情有些变化。
是光。灰绿色的光线落入房中,依然宛如阴天森林里的光影,却更明朗些。我意识到,我的窗没有被云雾遮蔽。
我跳下床想看看外面,然后发出了惊恐的呻吟。
好一场大雪:吞没了前院,压满了我的车顶,把道路都染白了。但这还不是最糟的。昨天下的雨都冻成了冰——树上挂满了奇形怪状的、图案绚丽的冰棱,车道上也覆上了一层该死的冰面。即使在地面干燥的时候我都很难不摔倒,现在我还是回到床上去比较保险。
我下楼的时候,查理已经走了。从很多方面来说,和查理住在一起就像我自己一个人住一样,而且我发现我很享受独处的感觉,并不觉得孤独。
我匆匆咽下一碗麦片,喝了盒橙汁。我急于去学校,而这一点把我吓到了。我知道这不是因为那里有我所期望的良好的学习氛围,也不是因为能见到我那帮新朋友。如果我对自己足够诚实,我会承认,我渴望去学校是因为我想见到爱德华?卡伦。但是,这念头实在是非常,非常地愚蠢。
在昨天说了那堆毫无头脑、令人尴尬的胡言乱语之后,我应该彻底地避开他。而且我对他也有些疑惑:他为什么要对他眼睛的事说谎呢?我仍害怕着有时候感受到的,从他身上散发的敌意。更何况,无论何时,只要一想到他那张完美的面孔,我就会舌头打结。但是,我很清楚地意识到,我的活动范围和他的活动范围完全没有重合之处,所以今天我不应该这样急切地盼着见到他。
活着通过那段冰封的车道耗尽了我身上每一盎司的注意力。快要走到车前的时候,我差点失去平衡,但最后还是成功地抓住了后视镜,让自己得救了。这再清楚不过了,今天将会是一场噩梦。
开车去学校的路上,我尽可能地把注意力从对车子失控的恐惧,还有对爱德华?卡伦的不必要的推测,转移到迈克和埃里克,还有这里的年轻男孩们对我的截然不同的态度上。我确定我的外表和在凤凰城时一样。也许是因为我家那边的男孩们亲眼目睹了我惨不忍睹的青春期的全过程,还在用老眼光来看我。也许是因为我在这个新鲜事匮乏的地方是个新奇的存在。也可能是我跛子似的笨拙惹人怜爱而非怜悯,让我陷入了肥皂剧里的不幸少女的角色。不管理由是什么,迈克宠物犬一样的举动,还有埃里克跟他针锋相对的表现,让我受宠若惊。我不知道自己是不是更情愿被无视。
我的卡车似乎丝毫不受路面上那层黑冰的影响。但我还是开得很慢,生怕在大街上撞出一条破坏通道来。
等我到了学校,走下车的时候,我才明白为什么路上没遇上半点麻烦。某些银色的东西吸引了我的视线,我走到卡车后面——小心地抓住支撑的东西——检查我的车胎。细细的链条十字交叉成钻石的形状,缠在车胎上。天知道查理是几点起的床,给我的卡车上了雪地链。我只觉得喉头一紧。我不习惯被人照顾。查理讷于言表的关心冷不防打动了我。
我站在车后的一角,拼命压抑着雪地链带来的突如其来的、潮水般的情绪。就在这时,我听到了一个古怪的声音。
那是一声惊骇的尖叫,然后迅速变成了一片尖叫声。我吃惊地抬起头。
我同时看见了好几件事物。没有一个像电影中那样,用慢动作进行着。事实上,是奔涌的肾上腺素让我的大脑运作得更快,使我可以同时专注于几件事物的细节。
爱德华?卡伦站在离我四辆车以外的地方,一脸惊恐地看着我。他的脸在许多张脸汇成的海里显得格外清晰。这些脸上都挂着一模一样的,被吓坏了的神情。但更迫在眉睫的是那辆打滑了的、轮胎锁死了的深蓝色的货车。它的刹车发出尖锐的呼啸声,在停车场的冰面上疯狂地旋转着。它即将撞上我的卡车后部,而我正站在它们中间。我甚至没有足够的时间来闭上眼睛。
在我听见那辆货车压上我的卡车车厢的那声毁灭性的碾压声以前,某种东西硬邦邦地撞上了我,但不是在我所预料的那个方向。我的头磕到了结冰的柏油路面上,我感到有个又冷又硬的东西把我按在了地上。我躺在了一辆客货两用车前的人行道上,刚才我正是把我的卡车停在了这辆客货两用车旁。但我没有机会注意别的事情,因为那辆货车冲过来了。它让人气恼地顶着卡车后部拐了个弯,继续旋转着滑过来,即将再次撞上我。
一声低咒让我意识到有人和我在一起,而这个声音,我绝对不会认错。两条长长的,雪白的胳膊伸在我前面保护着我。那辆货车忽然停在了离我的脸只有一英尺远的地方。那双大手如有神助地嵌在了货车车身一侧的一道深深的凹痕上。
而后,他双手的动作快得让我看不清。(他使出了无影手。)一只手骤然撑住货车的车身,另一只把我拖开。我的双腿像破布娃娃一样晃荡,直到碰上那辆客货两用车为止。一阵金属坠地的锐响刺痛了我的耳朵,那辆货车重重落到地面上,玻璃爆裂,迸射到柏油路面上——恰恰是一秒钟以前,我双腿所在的地方。
一阵彻底的沉默,几秒后,一片尖叫。在这阵突然的骚动里,我听到不止一个人在呼喊着我的名字。但比所有的喊叫声都要清晰的是,我听见了,耳畔,爱德华?卡伦低沉的,狂乱的声音。
“贝拉,你没事吧?”
“我没事。”我的声音听起来怪怪的。我想要坐起来,然后发觉他紧紧地抓着我,把我护在身下。
当心,”当我挣扎的时候,他警告我。“我觉得你的头碰得很厉害。”
我这才注意到我的左耳一阵抽痛。
“哦。”我惊讶地说。
“这正是我所想到的。”奇怪,他的声音听起来像是在用力忍住笑声。
“怎么回事……”我的声音弱下来,努力整理思路,控制自己的举动。“你怎么能那么快就冲到这边呢?”
“我就站在你旁边,贝拉。”他说,语气再度严肃起来。
我挣扎着坐起来,这次他不再阻止我,而是松开了紧紧箍住我腰部的双臂,迅速又安静地退开,退到这个狭小空间所能允许的离我最远的地方。我看着他既担忧又无辜的神情,又一次迷失在他黑金色的双眸中。我想问他什么来着?
他们终于发现了我们。一群泪流满面的人,彼此呼喊着,呼唤着我们的名字。
“别乱动!”有人下令。
“把泰勒从货车里弄出来!”另一个人喊道。
我们周围一片忙乱。我想要起来,但爱德华冰冷的手按住了我的肩膀。
“现在待在这儿别动。”
“但这儿太冷了。”我抱怨着。让我惊讶的是,他悄声地笑了起来,声音小得几乎听不见。
“刚才你在那里。”我忽然记起来了。他的轻笑声戛然而止。“你站在你的车旁边。”
他脸色一沉。“不,我没在那里。”
“我看见你了。”我们周围一片混乱,我可以听到到达现场的大人们粗暴的声音。但我固执地继续我们的争论:我是对的,他应该承认这一点。
“贝拉,我就站在你旁边,是我把你拉开的。”他不再掩饰,用直勾勾的、毁灭性的眼神瞪着我,像是要让我明白某件极其严重的事情。
“不是的。”我咬紧牙关。
他眼中的金色在燃烧。“求你了,贝拉。”
“为什么?”我诘问。
“相信我。”他恳求着。他柔和的声音征服了我。
我听见了救护车的警笛。“你能保证过后向我解释一切吗?”
“很好。”他咆哮着,勃然大怒。
“很好。”我气愤地重复着。
六个紧急医疗救护人员和两个教师——瓦尔纳老师和克拉普教练——合力把那辆货车退开,好让担架进来。爱德华坚决拒绝上担架,我正要开口,那个叛徒却告诉他们我撞到了头,很可能有脑震荡。当他们给我戴上护颈支架的时候,我羞愧得想要一死了之。看上去整个学校都到场了,庄严肃穆地目送我被抬进急救车后部。而爱德华居然可以坐在救护车前排。这简直让人抓狂。
更糟糕的是,查理?史温在他们把我安全地弄走以前赶到了。
“贝拉!”当他看到我躺在担架上时惊恐地大喊。
“我一切安好,查——爸爸。”我叹息道。“我没事。”
他转向离他最近的那个紧急医疗救护人员询问补充性意见。我索性不管他,开始思考在我脑海中乱转的一些令人费解的画面。当他们把我从那辆客货两用车旁抬出来的时候,我看到了车的保险杠上一道深深的凹痕——一道显然和爱德华双肩的轮廓相吻合的凹痕……就像是他曾经撑在这辆车上,生生把这个金属框架给压变形了一样。
那时候,他的家人远远地看着,神情各异,从不赞成到愤怒,但唯独丝毫不见对他们兄弟安危的关切。
我试图想出一个合乎逻辑的答案来解释我看到的一切——一个能否定我精神不正常的假设的答案。
自然,救护车一路由警车护送,到达了县医院。让我觉得荒谬的是,他们根本不让我下来,一路抬着我走。更糟的是,爱德华依靠自身的能力轻轻松松地溜出了医院大门。我直把牙咬得咯咯作响。(这段不太懂,不知道是指爱德华用“脚”走出去,还是用“色诱”蒙混出去。。。)
他们把我推进急救室,这是一个长长的房间,呈一字型排开的各张床之间只用塑料帘隔开。一个护士在我手臂上缠了一个血压计,在我舌头上放了一支温度计。既然没人费事把塑料帘拉起来给我留点隐私,我也没有义务再戴着那个看起来傻不拉几的护颈支架了。一等护士走开,我立刻解开了维可牢扣,把它扔到床上。
又一群医院职员匆匆忙忙地冲进来,又一副担架被抬到了我的邻床上。我认出那是和我一起上gover-nment课的泰勒?克劳利,他头上包扎着血迹斑斑的绷带。泰勒看上去比我糟一百倍。但他不安地盯着我。
“贝拉,真对不起。”
“我没事,泰勒——你看着挺吓人的,你没事吧?”我们说话的时候,护士开始解下他弄脏的绷带,露出他前额和左脸颊上的无数浅浅的伤痕。
他无视我的话。“我还以为我会把你撞死!我开得太快了,又错误地撞到了冰上……”当一个护士开始给他脸上抹药的时候他畏缩了一下。
“别担心,你没撞上我。”
“你怎么能那么快躲开呢?你本来在那里,然后就不见了……”
“嗯……爱德华把我拉开了。”
他看上去很困惑。“谁?”
“爱德华?卡伦——他就站在我旁边。”我实在是个蹩脚的说谎者,我的声音听起来一点也不能让人信服。
“卡伦?我没注意到他……噢,我猜是因为,事情发生得太快。他没事吧?”
“我想是的。他在这里的某处,但他们没用担架固定他。”
我就知道我没疯。到底发生了什么事?我完全没办法解释我所看到的一切。
他们把我放到轮椅上,推着我去做头部X光检查。我告诉他们我没事,一切都很好,甚至没有受到任何撞击。我询问我能否离开,但护士告知我必须先跟医生商量。于是,我被困在急诊室里,等待着,同时被泰勒滔滔不绝的道歉骚扰着:他保证他会补充我的。我无数次试图说服他,让他明白我没事,但他还是不停地责怪自己。最后,我闭上眼晴,无视他的存在。他继续懊恼地说个不停。
“她睡着了吗?”一个天籁般的声音问道。我飞快地睁开了眼睛。
爱德华站在我的床尾,坏笑着。我瞪着他。这不太容易——也许抛个媚眼会更自然些。
“嗨,爱德华,我很抱歉——”泰勒又开始了。
爱德华竖起一只手阻止了他。
“不流血,就不算犯规。”他说着,露出整齐的皓齿。他走过去坐到泰勒的床边,脸向着我。然后,又一次撇嘴坏笑。
“那么,他们对你的判决是?”他问我。
“我一点问题也没有,但他们就是不让我走,”我抱怨着。“你是怎么做到的,居然没像我们俩那样被捆在轮床上?”
“这都是你所知道的那人的功劳。”他回答道。“但别担心,我是来带你离开这里的。”
随后,一个医生从拐角处走过来。我张大了嘴巴。他很年轻,金发碧眼,肤色白皙……还有,他比我见过的任何一个电影明星都要英俊。但是,他的肤色太苍白了。他看上去很疲倦,眼睛下还有黑圈。根据查理的描述,这位应该就是爱德华的父亲。
“那么,史温小姐,”卡伦医生用极富魅力的声音说道,“你感觉如何?”
“我很好。”我答道,希望这是最后一次说这句话。
他走过来,把我头上的壁灯打开。(lightboard是什么东东?直译是灯牌。。。)
“你的X光照片看着没什么大碍,”他说。“你觉得头疼吗?爱德华说你的头碰得很厉害。”
“我的头没问题。”我重复着,叹了口气,小小怒视了一下爱德华。
医生冰冷的手指轻柔地察看着我的头。我畏缩了一下,他注意到了。
“疼吗?”他问道。
“不疼,真的。”我有过更惨痛的体验。
我听见一声嗤笑,便看看四周,只见爱德华一脸俨然以恩人自居的笑意。我眯缝起眼睛。
“好啦,你父亲在等候室——你现在可以跟他回去了。但是,如果你感到晕眩,或者有任何视力问题,请务必回来复查。”
“我不能回学校吗?”我问道,想象着查理努力表示关心的样子。
“恐怕你今天得悠着点了。”
我瞪着爱德华。“那他可以回学校咯?”
“总得有人回去把我们幸免于难的好消息传播出去吧。”爱德华沾沾自喜地说。
“事实上,”卡伦医生更正道。“大半个学校好像都在等候室里了。”
“哦不!”我呻吟着,用手捂住脸。
卡伦医生扬起眉头:“你想待在这里吗?”
“不,绝不!”我坚持着,把腿甩下床,飞快地跳下地。快过头了——我摇晃起来,卡伦医生抓住了我。他看上去有点担心。
“我没事。”我再次向他保证。没有必要告诉他我的平衡问题跟碰到头一点关系都没有。
“拿点泰诺止痛吧。”他一边稳住我,一边建议道。
“没痛到那个地步。”我坚持着。
“听起来你相当地幸运。”卡伦医生说道,微笑着用优雅的手势在我的表格上签字。
“幸运鬼爱德华碰巧站在了我旁边。”我更正道,用力瞪着我的病历的标题。
“哦,嗯,是的。”卡伦医生同意道,忽然对他面前的那张纸产生了浓厚的兴趣。然后他看向别处,看着泰勒,去下一张床。我灵光一闪:这医生熟悉内情。
“恐怕你得在这儿多待一阵子了。”他对泰勒说,开始检查他的伤口。
医生刚转过身去,我立刻挪到爱德华身旁。
“我能和你谈谈吗?”我小声说道。他退了一步,下巴骤然一紧。
“你父亲在等着你。”他从牙缝里挤出这句话。
我瞥了一眼卡伦医生和泰勒。
“如果你不介意的话,我希望和你单独谈谈。”我强调。
他怒视着我,然后转过身去,大步流星地走过这个长长的房间。我几乎要小跑着才能跟上他的步子。我们转过拐角,刚走到一个短短的走廊里,他转过来面向我。
“你想干嘛?”他问道,听起来气坏了。他的眼神冰冷。
他的不友好让我感到了威胁。我说出的话远远没有达到我所想要的充满火药味的效果。“你欠我一个解释。”我提醒他。
“我救了你的命——我不欠你任何东西。”
他声音里的忿恨让我退缩了。“你保证过的。”
“贝拉,你撞到了头,你不知道自己在说些什么。”他斩钉截铁地说。(His tone was cutting.这样翻应该没问题吧。)
我被激怒了。我大胆地瞪视着他。“我的脑子没有任何问题。”
他瞪回来。“你想从我身上得到什么,贝拉?”
“我要知道真相。”我说。“我要知道我是为了什么在替你圆谎”
“你以为发生了什么事?”他嚷道。
我再也收不住话头,连珠炮似的脱口而出。
“我所知道的就是你根本不在我旁边——泰勒也没看见你,所以别告诉我我的头碰得太厉害。那辆货车本来要撞上我们的——可它没有,你的手在它身上留下了凹痕——你在另一辆车上也弄了一道凹痕,可你却一点都没受伤——那辆货车本来会碾碎我的双腿的,但你把它举起来了……”我知道这些话听起来有多疯狂,但我就是停不住。我太生气了,我能感觉到眼泪就要掉下来了。我咬着牙,努力把眼泪逼回去。
他用不相信的眼神看着我。但他的脸绷紧着,防备着。
“你认为我把一辆货车从你身上举起来?”他的语气是在质疑我的神智是否正常,但这让我更起了疑心。这话听起来像是一个娴熟的演员所说的完美的台词。
我只是点了点头,下巴一紧。
“你知道,没人会相信这些话的。”他的声音现在几近于嘲讽。
“我不会告诉任何人。”我一字一句地说道,竭力控制着怒火。
惊讶的神色在他脸上一闪而过。“那么,说这些又有什么用呢?”
“这对我很重要。”我坚持着。“我不喜欢撒谎——所以最好能有一个让我这样干的理由。”
“你就不能说声谢谢,让这事过去吗?”
“谢谢。”我等着,怒气冲冲地期待着。
“你不会就这样算了的,对吧?”
“是的。”
“既然这样……我希望你享受失望的滋味。”
我们沉默着,怒视着对方。我第一个开了口,试图让自己集中注意力。我面临着被他铁青着的,绝美的面孔分神的危险。就像是在盯着一个毁灭天使看,试图看得他垂下眼睛去一样。
“你何必这样自找麻烦?”我冷淡地问。
他顿了顿,有一瞬间他足以让人迷乱的脸上露出了一丝意料之外的脆弱的神情。
“我不知道。”他耳语道。
然后,他转过身去背对着我,走开了。
我简直气疯了,过了好几分钟,我才控制住自己的情绪,强迫自己离开。一直等到我能走路的时候,我才慢慢地向走廊的尽头走去。
我一直忧心忡忡着,但等候室里的情形比我想象中的更不愉快。看样子我在福克斯认识的人全到齐了,都在盯着我看。查理向我冲过来,我只得举手投降。
“我没事。”我阴沉着脸,向他保证。我依然怒气冲冲,丝毫没有闲聊的兴致。
“医生怎么说?”
“卡伦医生给我看过了,他说我一切都好,可以回家了。”我叹息道。迈克,杰西卡还有埃里克都在,开始向我们靠拢过来。“我们走吧。”我催促着。
查理伸出一只手放到我的背后,但没有碰到我,带着我向出口的玻璃门走去。我笨拙地向我的朋友们挥手告别,希望能传达出让他们不必担心的意思。能坐进警车里实在是件让人感到莫大的宽慰的事,我头一次这样觉得。
一路上,我们都沉默着。我深深地沉浸在自己的思绪中,以至于只能勉强注意到查理还在那里。我敢肯定,爱德华在走廊里的那些自我保护的举动只能证明我看到的那些异乎寻常的事情都是真实存在的,尽管我自己都很难相信它们的真实性。
当我们到家的时候,查理终于开口了。
“嗯……你得给蕾妮打个电话。”他垂下头,心虚地说。
我吓坏了。“你告诉她了!”
“对不起。”
我走下车,“砰”的一声关上巡逻车的门,力道大得有些不必要。
当然,我妈竭斯底里大发作。我不得不一遍又一遍地告诉她我感觉很好,说了至少三十次,她才冷静下来。她求我回家——完全忘记这会儿家里根本没人的事实——但她的恳求比我想到的还要容易回绝。我对爱德华神神秘秘的举动简直着了魔。而且,我也迷上了爱德华本人,不止是一点点。愚蠢,愚蠢,太愚蠢了。我应该,像任何一个正常的,头脑清楚的人会做的那样,渴望着逃离福克斯。但我却没有。
这天晚上,我决定早早上床睡觉,和平时一样。查理始终一脸担忧地看着我,这让我更加烦躁。半路上,我停下来,到浴室里拿了三片泰诺。这些药片真的很有帮助,当疼痛不再那么厉害时,我沉沉地睡去。
那天晚上,我第一次梦见了爱德华?卡伦。

伊墨君

ZxID:21373300


等级: 热心会员
举报 只看该作者 板凳   发表于: 2013-02-27 0
Chapter 2 Open Book
    The next day was better… and worse.
  It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds weredenseand opaque. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day.Mikecame to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, withChessClub Eric glaring at him all the while; that was nattering. Peopledidn'tlook at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a biggroup atlunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several otherpeople whosenames and faces I now remembered. I began to feel like I wastreadingwater, instead of drowning in it.
  It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with thewindechoing around the house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called onme inTrig when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer. Itwasmiserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time Ididn'tcringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the headwith it.
  And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn't in school at all.
  All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre glares. Partof mewanted to confront him and demand to know what his problem was.While Iwas lying sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I would say.But Iknew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to doit. Imade the Cowardly Lion look like the terminator.
  But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica — trying to keepmyeyes from sweeping the place for him, and failing entirely — I sawthathis four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table,andhe was not with them.
  Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemedelated bythe attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as Itried tolisten to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable,waitingnervously for the moment he would arrive. I hoped that he wouldsimplyignore me when he came, and prove my suspicions false.
  He didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense.
  I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch,hestill hadn't showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of agoldenretriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breathat thedoor, but Edward Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled and wentto myseat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach.Helingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then he smiled at mewistfullyand went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It lookedlike Iwas going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't beeasy. Ina town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else,diplomacywas essential. I had never been enormously tactful; I had nopracticedealing with overly friendly boys.
  I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edward wasabsent. Itold myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of thenaggingsuspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there. It wasridiculous, andegotistical, to think that I could affect anyone thatstrongly. It wasimpossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it wastrue.
  When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading outof mycheeks from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into myjeansand navy blue sweater. I hurried from the girls' locker room,pleased tofind that I had successfully evaded my retriever friend forthe moment. Iwalked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded nowwith fleeingstudents. I got in my truck and dug through my bag to makesure I hadwhat I needed.
  Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besidesfriedeggs and bacon. So I requested that I be assigned kitchen detailfor theduration of my stay. He was willing enough to hand over the keysto thebanquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in the house.So I hadmy shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboardlabeled FOODMONEY, and I was on my way to the Thriftway.
  I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads thatturned inmy direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line ofcars thatwere waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying topretend thatthe earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, Isaw the twoCullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It wasthe shiny newVolvo. Of course. I hadn't noticed their clothes before —I'd been toomesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obviousthat theywere all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothesthat subtlyhinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks,the stylewith which they carried themselves, they could have worndishrags andpulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have bothlooks and money.
  But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. Itdidn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here.
  No, I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be theirdesire; Icouldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by thatdegree ofbeauty.
  They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else.
  I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was freeof the school grounds.
  The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streetssouth, offthe highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it feltnormal. Idid the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of thefamiliartask gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn'thear thetapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was.
  When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them inwhereverI could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. Iwrappedpotatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered asteak inmarinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in thefridge.
  When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs.Beforestarting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulledmy damphair up into a pony-tail, and checked my e-mail for the firsttime. I hadthree messages.
  "Bella," my mom wrote…Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me howyour flight was. Is itraining? I miss you already. I'm almost finishedpacking for Florida, butI can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where Iput it? Phil says hi.
  Mom.
  I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.
  "Bella," she wrote…Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom.
  The last was from this morning.
  Isabella,If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie.
  I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known forjumping the gun.
  Mom,Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash.
  Bella.
  I sent that, and began again.
  Mom,Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting forsomethingto write about. School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. Imet somenice kids who sit by me at lunch.
  Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it upFriday.
  Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, butreally sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.
  I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check mye-mail every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you.
  Bella.
  I had decided to read Wuthering Heights — the novel we werecurrentlystudying in English — yet again for the fun of it, and that'swhat I wasdoing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and Ihurrieddownstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in tobroil.
  "Bella?" my father called out when he heard me on the stairs.
  Who else? I thought to myself.
  "Hey, Dad, welcome home.""Thanks." He hung up his gun belt andstepped out of his boots as Ibustled about the kitchen. As far as I wasaware, he'd never shot the gunon the job. But he kept it ready. When Icame here as a child, he wouldalways remove the bullets as soon as hewalked in the door. I guess heconsidered me old enough now not to shootmyself by accident, and notdepressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.
  "What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginativecook,and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, andsad, thathe seemed to remember that far back.
  "Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved.
  He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing;helumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We werebothmore comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked,andset the table.
  I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively ashe walked into the room.
  "Smells good, Bell.""Thanks."We ate in silence for a few minutes.It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither ofus was bothered by the quiet. Insome ways, we were well suited forliving together.
  "So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" he asked as hewas taking seconds.
  "Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit withherfriends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly.
  Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception.
  "That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid — nice family. His dad ownsthesporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living offallthe backpackers who come through here.""Do you know the Cullenfamily?" I asked hesitantly.
  "Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man.""They… thekids… are a little different. They don't seem to fit in verywell atschool."Charlie surprised me by looking angry.
  "People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliantsurgeonwho could probably work in any hospital in the world, make tentimes thesalary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We'relucky to havehim — lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town.He's an assetto the community, and all of those kids are well behavedand polite. Ihad my doubts, when they first moved in, with all thoseadoptedteenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. Butthey'reall very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from any ofthem.
  That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who havelivedin this town for generations. And they stick together the way afamilyshould — camping trips every other weekend… Just becausethey'renewcomers, people have to talk."It was the longest speech I'dever heard Charlie make. He must feelstrongly about whatever people weresaying.
  I backpedaled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed theykeptto themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to bemorecomplimentary.
  "You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a goodthinghe's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have ahardtime concentrating on their work with him around."We lapsed backinto silence as we finished eating. He cleared the tablewhile I startedon the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after Ifinished washing thedishes by hand — no dishwasher — I went upstairsunwillingly to work onmy math homework. I could feel a tradition in themaking.
  That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted.
  The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine ofmyclasses. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost allthestudents at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to passmethe ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team triedtotake advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way.
  Edward Cullen didn't come back to school.
  Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullensentered thecafeteria without him. Then I could relax and join in thelunchtimeconversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the La PushOcean Parkin two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited,and I hadagreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beachesshould be hotand dry.
  By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class,nolonger worried that Edward would be there. For all I knew, he haddroppedout of school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn'ttotallysuppress the worry that I was responsible for his continuedabsence,ridiculous as it seemed.
  My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unusedtospending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend.Icleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my mommorebogusly cheerful e-mail. I did drive to the library Saturday, but itwasso poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; I would havetomake a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a goodbookstore. Iwondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got… andshuddered atthe thought.
  The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.
  People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't knowalltheir names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colderthismorning, but happily not raining. In English, Mike took hisaccustomedseat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. Itwasstraightforward, very easy.
  All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thoughtIwould feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever expectedtofeel here.
  When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white.
  I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at mycheeks, my nose.
  "Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."I looked at the little cottonfluffs that were building up along thesidewalk and swirling erraticallypast my face.
  "Ew." Snow. There went my good day.
  He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?""No. That means it's toocold for rain." Obviously. "Besides, I thoughtit was supposed to comedown in flakes — you know, each one unique andall that. These just looklike the ends of Q-tips.""Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" heasked incredulously.
  "Sure I have." I paused. "On TV."Mike laughed. And then a big,squishy ball of dripping snow smacked intothe back of his head. We bothturned to see where it came from. I had mysuspicions about Eric, who waswalking away, his back toward us — in thewrong direction for his nextclass. Mike appatently had the same notion.
  He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush.
  "I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Oncepeoplestart throwing wet stuff, I go inside."He just nodded, his eyes onEric's retreating figure.
  Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about thesnow;apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept mymouthshut. Sure, it was drier than rain — until it melted in your socks.
  I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mushballswere flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to useit as ashield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, butsomething in myexpression kept her from lobbing a snowball at meherself.
  Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, withicemelting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talkinganimatedlyabout the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glancedtoward thattable in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where Istood. Therewere five people at the table.
  Jessica pulled on my arm.
  "Hello? Bella? What do you want?"I looked down; my ears were hot. Ihad no reason to feel self-conscious,I reminded myself. I hadn't doneanything wrong.
  "What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica.
  "Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to theend of the line.
  "Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked.
  "Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor.
  I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table,my eyes on my feet.
  I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, withunnecessary concern, how I was feeling.
  I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up andescape to the nurse's office for the next hour.
  Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.
  I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table.If hewas glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was.
  I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them werelooking this way. I lifted my head a little.
  They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had theirhairentirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaningawayas Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoyingthesnowy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like ascenefrom a movie than the rest of us.
  But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there wassomethingdifferent, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that differencewas. Iexamined Edward the most carefully. His skin was less pale, Idecided —flushed from the snow fight maybe — the circles under his eyesmuch lessnoticeable. But there was something more. I pondered, staring,trying toisolate the change.
  "Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following mystare.
  At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine.
  I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I wassure,though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harshorunfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merelycuriousagain, unsatisfied in some way.
  "Edward Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear.
  "He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help asking.
  "No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should he be?""Idon't think he likes me," I confided. I still felt queasy. I put myheaddown on my arm.
  "The Cullens don't like anybody… well, they don't notice anybodyenoughto like them. But he's still staring at you.""Stop looking athim," I hissed.
  She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make surethat she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.
  Mike interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of theblizzardin the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessicaagreedenthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubtthat shewould be up for anything he suggested. I kept silent. I wouldhave tohide in the gym until the parking lot cleared.
  For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at myowntable. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Sincehedidn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach didfrightenedlittle flips at the thought of sitting next to him again.
  I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual — heseemed tobe a popular target for the snowball snipers — but when we wentto thedoor, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining,washing alltraces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the sideof thewalkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free togostraight home after Gym.
  Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.
  Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table wasstillempty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributingonemicroscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for afewminutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes awayfromthe door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.
  I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayedcarefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.
  "Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.
  I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting asfaraway from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me.Hishair was dripping wet, disheveled — even so, he looked like he'djustfinished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling facewasfriendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyeswerecareful.
  "My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chancetointroduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."My mind wasspinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? Hewas perfectlypolite now. I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn'tthink ofanything conventional to say.
  "H-how do you know my name?" I stammered.
  He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.
  "Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's beenwaiting foryou to arrive."I grimaced. I knew it was something like that.
  "No," I persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"Heseemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?""No, I like Bella," I said."But I think Charlie — I mean my dad — mustcall me Isabella behind myback — that's what everyone here seems to knowme as," I tried toexplain, feeling like an utter moron.
  "Oh." He let it drop. I looked away awkwardly.
  Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I triedtoconcentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. Theslidesin the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had toseparatethe slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosistheyrepresented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to useourbooks. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who haditright.
  "Get started," he commanded.
  "Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. I looked up to see himsmiling acrooked smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him likean idiot.
  "Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviouslywondering if I was mentally competent.
  "No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead."I was showing off, just alittle. I'd already done this lab, and I knewwhat I was looking for. Itshould be easy. I snapped the first slide intoplace under the microscopeand adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective.
  I studied the slide briefly.
  My assessment was confident. "Prophase.""Do you mind if I look?" heasked as I began to remove the slide. Hishand caught mine, to stop me,as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold,like he'd been holding them in asnowdrift before class. But that wasn'twhy I jerked my hand away soquickly. When he touched me, it stung myhand as if an electric currenthad passed through us.
  "I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately.However, hecontinued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, stillstaggered, ashe examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had.
  "Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space onourworksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second,andthen glanced at it cursorily.
  "Anaphase," he murmured, writing it down as he spoke.
  I kept my voice indifferent. "May I?"He smirked and pushed the microscope to me.
  I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it,he was right.
  "Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at him.
  He handed it to me; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch myskin again.
  I took the most fleeting look I could manage.
  "Interphase." I passed him the microscope before he could ask forit. Hetook a swift peek, and then wrote it down. I would have written itwhilehe looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated me. I didn'twant tospoil the page with my clumsy scrawl.
  We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike andhispartner comparing two slides again and again, and another group hadtheirbook open under the table.
  Which left me with nothing to do but try to not look athim…unsuccessfully. I glanced up, and he was staring at me, thatsameinexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly I identifiedthatsubtle difference in his face.
  "Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly.
  He seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. "No.""Oh," I mumbled."I thought there was something different about youreyes."He shrugged,and looked away.
  In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividlyrememberedthe flat black color of his eyes the last time he'd glared atme — thecolor was striking against the background of his pale skin andhis auburnhair. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: astrange ocher,darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. Ididn'tunderstand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reasonaboutthe contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the literalsense ofthe word.
  I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists again.
  Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working.Helooked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and thenstaredmore intently to check the answers.
  "So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with themicroscope?" Mr. Banner asked.
  "Bella," Edward corrected automatically. "Actually, she identifiedthreeof the five."Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression wasskeptical.
  "Have you done this lab before?" he asked.
  I smiled sheepishly. "Not with onion root.""Whitefishblastula?""Yeah."Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placementprogram in Phoenix?""Yes.""Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it'sgood you two are labpartners." He mumbled something else as he walkedaway. After he left, Ibegan doodling on my notebook again.
  "It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward asked. I had thefeelingthat he was forcing himself to make small talk with me. Paranoiasweptover me again. It was like he had heard my conversation withJessica atlunch and was trying to prove me wrong.
  "Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to benormallike everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupidfeeling ofsuspicion, and I couldn't concentrate.
  "You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.
  "Or the wet.""Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused.
  "You have no idea," I muttered darkly.
  He looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine.
  His face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any morethan courtesy absolutely demanded.
  "Why did you come here, then?"No one had asked me that — not straight out like he did, demanding.
  "It's… complicated.""I think I can keep up," he pressed.
  I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meetinghisgaze. His dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered withoutthinking.
  "My mother got remarried," I said.
  "That doesn't sound so complex," he disagreed, but he wassuddenlysympathetic. "When did that happen?""Last September." My voicesounded sad, even to me.
  "And you don't like him," Edward surmised, his tone still kind.
  "No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough.""Why didn'tyou stay with them?"I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued tostare at me withpenetrating eyes, as if my dull life's story was somehowvitallyimportant.
  "Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living." I half-smiled.
  "Have I heard of him?" he asked, smiling in response.
  "Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. Hemovesaround a lot.""And your mother sent you here so that she couldtravel with him." Hesaid it as an assumption again, not a question.
  My chin raised a fraction. "No, she did not send me here. I sentmyself."His eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he admitted,and heseemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.
  I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him? He continued to stare at mewith obvious curiosity.
  "She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made herunhappy… soI decided it was time to spend some quality time withCharlie." My voicewas glum by the time I finished.
  "But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.
  "And?" I challenged.
  "That doesn't seem fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were still intense.
  I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn'tfair.""I believe I have heard that somewhere before," he agreed dryly.
  "So that's all," I insisted, wondering why he was still staring at methat way.
  His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly.
  "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you letanyonesee."I grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to stick out mytongue like afive-year-old, and looked away.
  "Am I wrong?"I tried to ignore him.
  "I didn't think so," he murmured smugly.
  "Why does it matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away,watching the teacher make his rounds.
  "That's a very good question," he muttered, so quietly that Iwondered ifhe was talking to himself. However, after a few seconds ofsilence, Idecided that was the only answer I was going to get.
  I sighed, scowling at the blackboard.
  "Am I annoying you?" he asked. He sounded amused.
  I glanced at him without thinking… and told the truth again."Notexactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read —mymother always calls me her open book." I frowned.
  "On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despiteeverythingthat I'd said and he'd guessed, he sounded like he meant it.
  "You must be a good reader then," I replied.
  "Usually." He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth.
  Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relieftolisten. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life tothisbizarre, beautiful boy who may or may not despise me. He'dseemedengrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from thecorner of myeye, that he was leaning away from me again, his handsgripping the edgeof the table with unmistakable tension.
  I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated,withtransparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seenwithoutdifficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts wereunmanageable.
  When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and asgracefullyfrom the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, Istaredafter him in amazement.
  Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imaginedhim with a wagging tail.
  "That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same.You'relucky you had Cullen for a partner.""I didn't have any troublewith it," I said, stung by his assumption. Iregretted the snubinstantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I addedbefore he couldget his feelings hurt.
  "Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he commented as we shrugged intoour raincoats. He didn't seem pleased about it.
  I tried to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with him lastMonday."I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to Gym,and RE.
  didn't do much to hold my attention, either. Mike was on my team today.
  He chivalrously covered my position as well as his own, somywoolgathering was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve; myteamducked warily out of the way every time I was up.
  The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but Iwashappier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for oncenotcaring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped myjacket,put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heatercould dryit on the way home.
  I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticedthestill, white figure. Edward Cullen was leaning against the frontdoor ofthe Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in mydirection.I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almosthitting arusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, Istomped on thebrake in time. It was just the sort of car that my truckwould make scrapmetal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out theother side of mycar, and cautiously pulled out again, with greatersuccess. I staredstraight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from aperipheral peek, I wouldswear I saw him laughing.
第二章 开卷

第二天要好些,也更糟糕。
更好些是因为它不再下雨了,但云层依然又厚又密。这一天要容易些,因为我知道这一天都有什么可期待。迈克英语课上和我坐在一起,然后陪我去下一堂课,一路上说个不停,而“象棋俱乐部”埃里克始终瞪着他。人们不再像昨天那样老盯着我看了。午餐时我和一大群人坐在一起,包括迈克,埃里克,杰西卡,还有一些别的名字和面孔我都不记得的人。我开始感到像是踏在了水面上,而不是被水淹没。
更糟糕是因为我很疲倦。夜里风声在屋里回荡,我一直无法入睡。更糟糕是因为瓦尔纳老师在三角课上叫我起来回答问题,而那时我并没有举手,而且我还答错了。这是悲惨的一天,因为我不得不开始打排球,而且有一次我没能从球的来路中躲开,而把它打到了我队友的头上。这一天更糟糕,是因为爱德华?卡伦没有来学校。
整个早上我都在惧怕着午餐,害怕他异乎寻常的怒视。我的一部分想要对抗他,要求知道他的问题所在。当我无法入睡,只能躺在床上时,我甚至想象着我该怎么说。但我太了解我自己了,我不认为我有这个胆量去做这件事。我让胆小的狮子看起来像个终结者。
当我和杰西卡一起走进自助餐厅的时候,我努力不让自己偷瞄他所在的地方,但没有成功——我看见他的四个风格迥异的兄弟姐妹一起坐在昨天的那张桌子旁,但他不在那里。
迈克拦住我们,要我们坐到他那张桌子去。杰西卡看上去很乐意得到他的注意,她的朋友们也很快就加入了我们。但在我努力去听他们轻松的谈话的同时,我仍然不安地等待着他进来的那个让人提心吊胆的时刻。我希望他进来时不会注意到我,以证明我的多疑是错误的。
他没有进来,而随着时间的推移,我越来越紧张不安。
午餐时间结束时,他依然没有出现,因此我更加充满信心地去上生物课。迈克表现出了金毛寻回犬的优良品质,忠实地陪着我去教室。在门边上我屏住了呼吸,但爱德华?卡伦也不在那里。我松了一口气,向我的位置走去。迈克一路跟着我,谈论着一次即将到来的沙滩之旅。他一直待在我的桌子旁直到铃声响起。然后他满怀希望地向我笑了笑,回去坐到一个戴着牙套,烫着可怕的波浪发的女孩旁边。看来我得对迈克做点什么了,但这不太容易。在这样一个小镇里,每个人都对别人了如指掌,因而采取一些策略是十分必要的。我不会做得很老练;关于应付过分热情的男孩我没有任何经验。
我很高兴我能一个人占据整张桌子,因为爱德华不在。我一而再再而三地这样告诉自己。但我无法逃避这样的疑虑:他不在这里是因为我。认为我能够这样强烈地影响某人,这种想法实在太过荒谬,也太过自负了。这是不可能的。但我还是无法停止担心,担心这是真的。
这一天的课程都结束以后,我一直等到脸上被排球打到的擦伤不那么红时,才迅速换上我的牛仔裤和海军蓝色的毛衣。我快步走出女生更衣室,愉快地发现我终于成功地暂时甩开了我的寻回犬朋友。我迅速走到停车场,现在这里挤满了急于离开的学生。我钻进卡车里,检查了一下书包以确认没有落下什么东西。
昨天晚上我终于发现查理除了煎蛋和熏肉什么也不会做。所以我要求在我住在这里的这段时间里由我接管厨房。他相当乐意地交出了打理三餐的权力。(这句原文是交出了the keys to the banquethall,我琢磨了很久,还是觉得这样翻比较顺)我也发现他家里已经没有食物了。所以我列了一张购物清单,从橱柜里标着“伙食费”的罐头里拿了钱,现在只需直奔平价超市。(我决定把“thriftway”意译,音译实在很诡异。。。)
我踩下油门,发动了轰隆隆的引擎,无视一堆向我方向转过头来的脑袋,小心翼翼地把车倒进等着离开停车场的车队长龙中。当我在队伍里等着,假装那个震耳欲聋的轰鸣是别人的车发出的时候,我看到卡伦两兄妹和黑尔双胞胎钻进了他们的车里。是那辆闪闪发光的沃尔沃。当然,也只能是他们的。我之前没有注意到他们的衣着——我太着迷于他们的面孔了。现在我看到,很显然他们的穿着出奇地好;式样简洁,但明显是出自设计师之手。有这样出众的外形,这样优雅的姿态,他们就算穿着破抹布也能出人头地。居然能够同时拥有美貌与财富,他们好得有些过分了。但就我所能告诉你的,生活大多数时候都是公平的。看起来他们拥有的一切并没能让他们在这里得到认同。
不,我并不完全坚信这一点。似乎是他们自己把自己隔离起来了;我不能想象对于这样优秀的人生活中会有哪扇门推不开。
在我开车经过他们车旁时,他们和别人一样,都扭过头来看着我这辆隆隆作响的卡车。我坚持着直视前方,直到逃出校园以后,才终于感觉到得救了。
平价超市离学校不远,只隔着几条马路,紧挨着高速公路。呆在超市里是件很惬意的事:这里感觉正常多了。在家时我负责购物,所以我很高兴能投入到同样的工作中。超市里很大,呆在这里我听不到打在屋顶上噼啪作响的雨声,可以忘记身在何处。
回到家后,我把买回来的东西从车上搬下来,塞满了我能找到的每一块空间。我希望查理不会介意。我把马铃薯裹上锡箔,塞进烤箱里,给一块牛排浇上酱汁,搁在冰箱里的鸡蛋盒上。
做完这些以后,我拿起书包走上楼。在开始写作业以前,我先换了一件干爽的毛衣,把湿漉漉的头发扎成马尾,然后去检查电子邮件。我有三封邮件。
“贝拉,”是我妈发来的。
“你一到那边就发邮件给我。告诉我你一路飞得是否顺利。下雨了吗?我已经开始想念你了。我刚刚打包好去加利福尼亚的行李,但我找不到我那件粉色外套了。你知道我放哪儿了吗?菲尔向你问好。妈妈。“
我叹了口气,翻到下一封邮件。这封邮件和上一封邮件隔了八个小时。
“贝拉,”她写到。
“为什么你还没有发邮件给我?你在等什么?妈妈。”
最后一封是今天早上收到的。
“伊莎贝拉,
如果今晚五点半我还没收到你的消息,我就要打电话给查理了。”
我看了看钟。还有一个小时,但我妈爱抢跑是出了名的。
“妈妈,
冷静点。我现在就写。别冲动。
贝拉。”
我发出这封邮件,然后开始写下一封。
“妈妈,
一切都很好。当然这里一直在下雨。我只是在等有什么可写的。学校不算太糟,只是有点单调。我认识了一些不错的孩子,他们午餐时和我坐在一起。
你的外套在干洗店——你应该周五去把它取回来。
查理给我买了辆卡车,你信不信?我喜欢这辆车。它有些年头了,但相当坚固,你知道,这对我来说再好不过了。
我也很想你。我很快会再写邮件给你的,但我不可能每五分钟检查一次邮件。
放轻松,深呼吸,我爱你。
贝拉。”
我开始看《呼啸山庄》——我们的英语课正在学这部小说——再看一遍纯粹是为了消遣。我正在看书的时候,查理回来了。我看得太入神,以至于忘了时间。我冲下楼,把马铃薯拿出来,开始烤牛排。
“是贝拉吗?”爸爸听到我下楼的声音,问道。
还能有谁?我暗自想着。
“嗨,爸爸,欢迎回家。”
“谢谢。”他把熗挂在墙上。趁我还在厨房里忙活,他把靴子换了下来。就我所知,他还不曾在执行公务的时候开过熗。但他总是时刻准备着。当我还小,来这里住着的时候,他总是一进门就把子弹给卸下来了。我猜他是觉得我够大了,不会因为熗走火而伤着自己,也没有沮丧到要饮弹自杀尽。
“晚饭吃什么?”他警惕地问。我的母亲是个富有创意的厨子,但她的试验品通常都难以下咽。我既惊异,又难过:他居然到现在还记着这件事。
“牛排和马铃薯。”我回答道。他看起来松了一口气。
我忙着的时候,他似乎觉得在厨房里干站着太傻,就笨拙地走到起居室里看电视去了。那样我们都会更轻松些。趁牛排还在锅里烤着,我做了份沙拉,摆好餐具。
等晚饭准备好后,我喊他过来吃饭。他走进屋子时,满意地嗅着。
“闻着不错,贝拉。”
“谢谢。”
我们静静地吃了一会儿。这种感觉很自在。我们都不会因为沉默而难受。在某种意义上来说,我们很适合住在一起。
“嗯,你觉得学校怎样?有没有交到什么新朋友?”又过了一会儿,他问道。.
“嗯,我和一个叫杰西卡的女孩一起上了几节课。午餐时我和她的朋友们坐在一起。还有一个叫迈克的男孩,人很不错。大家都很友好。”除了某位人物。
“那一定是迈克?牛顿。不错的孩子——家境也不错。他爸爸在离镇上不远的地方开了家运动装备商店。他在路过这里的徒步旅行者身上赚了不少钱。”
“你知道卡伦一家吗?”我迟疑地问。
“卡伦医生一家?当然。卡伦医生是个好人。”
“他们……那些孩子……有些不太一样。他们似乎不太适应这里的学校。”
查理气愤的表情把我吓到了。
“镇上这些人!”他喃喃地说。“卡伦医生是一位出色的外科医师,他在世界上任何别的医院工作都能挣到十倍于这儿的工资,”他越说越响。“能得到他是我们走运——因为他太太喜欢住在小镇上。他是这个社区的财富。他的孩子们个个都行为端正,礼貌得体。他们刚搬来时我也曾对这些这个年纪被收养的孩子产生过疑虑。但他们都很懂事——他们从没给我惹过哪怕一丁点的麻烦。而有些世世代代住在镇上的家伙,他们的孩子我简直没法说。而且他们确实像一家人那样团结——每两周就去一次露营……只不过因为他们是新来的,人们就对他们说长道短。”
这是我听过的查理一口气说出的最长的话。他一定是对人们的流言蜚语气愤得不得了。
我改口说道:“他们似乎对我还算不错。我只是注意到他们总是独来独往。他们都很引人注目。”我补充道,努力想要表现得更赞赏些。
“你应该见见那个医生,”查理大笑着说。“他婚姻美满实在是件好事。当他在附近时,医院里的很多护士都很难集中注意力工作。”
我们吃过饭后,再度陷入了沉默。我开始洗盘子时,他动手收拾桌子,然后回去看电视。我洗完盘子后——用手洗,因为没有洗碗机——不太情愿地上楼去写数学作业。我可以感觉到某种一成不变的生活模式正在形成。
这天夜里很安静,我感到精疲力竭,很快就睡着了。
这一周就这样平静地过去了。我开始习惯每天例行公事的课表。周五的时候我几乎已经认得全校的学生了,只是还叫不全名字。体育课上,我的队友已经吸取教训,不再传球给我了。如果别的队试图利用我这个弱点,他们会尽快地冲到我前面。我很高兴地给他们让开路。
爱德华?卡伦还是没有来学校。
每一天,我都不安地看着门口,直到那群卡伦家的孩子走进自助餐厅,不包括他。这时我才会安下心来,加入到午餐时间的谈话中。通常这些对话都只围绕着迈克组织的,两周后的拉普什海洋公园之旅开展。我也被邀请了,我也同意了,更多是出于礼貌而非自愿。海滩应该是既炎热又干爽的。
星期五的时候我怡然自得地走进生物课教室,不再担心爱德华会在那里。就我所知,他已经退学了。我试着不去想他,但我还是按捺不住自己的忧虑:我也许是造成他持续缺勤的罪魁祸首。但这似乎太荒谬了。
我在福克斯的第一个周末无惊无险地过去了。查理还是老样子,不愿意呆在空荡荡的屋子里消磨时间,把周末都耗在了工作上。而我打扫了房子,顺利完成了家庭作业,给我妈又写了几封假装快活的邮件。周六我有开车去图书馆,但那里的藏书少得可怜,我也懒得办借书证了。或许最近我该去趟奥林匹亚或者西雅图,找家不错的书店。我懒洋洋地想着这辆卡车开过去每英里得耗多少油——然后不寒而栗。
周末时雨变得小多了,安安静静的,所以我睡得很好。
星期一早上,停车场里的人都向我打招呼。我还不知道他们所有人的名字,但我还是向每个人微笑着招手致意。今天早上气温又降了,但我很高兴没有下雨。英语课上,迈克照旧坐在我旁边。我们简单地聊了一下《呼啸山庄》,既坦然又轻松。
最重要的是,这样的相处比我所想过的还要更自在。在这里我过得比我期望过的还有自在。
当我们走出教室时,天空里落下了无数打着旋儿的小白点。我能听到人们兴奋地大喊着。风拍打着我的脸,我的鼻子。
“哇,”迈克说。“下雪了。”
我看着这些小小的棉絮逐渐堆积在人行道上,时不时打着旋儿掠过我的脸。
“呃。”雪。我的好日子一去不返了。
他看上去很吃惊。“你不喜欢雪吗?”
“不喜欢。这意味着冷得都不能下雨了。”显而易见。“还有,我觉得雪应该是一片一片地飘落下来——你知道,每一片都是独一无二的,所有的雪都是这样。这些雪看起来像棉花棒上的小棉球。”
“你之前没见过下雪吗?”他怀疑地问道。
“当然有,”我顿了顿。“在电视上。”
迈克大笑起来。然后,一个巨大的、松软的雪球不偏不倚地砸在了他后脑勺上。我们都回过头去看是谁干的。我怀疑是埃里克,他正背对着我们走开——但不是向他下一堂课的方向。迈克显然也这样认为。他弯下腰,团起一堆白色的雪泥。
“我们午餐时见,好吗?”我一边说着一边走开。“人们一开始打雪仗,我就跑进去。”
他只是点点头,紧盯着埃里克后退的身影。
整个上午,每个人都在兴奋着谈论着这场雪。显然这是新的一年里下的第一场雪。我一直抿紧双唇。当然,这比下雨要干燥些——直到它在你靴子里融化开来。
下了西班牙语课,我和杰西卡走向自助餐厅,一路上保持着警惕的姿势。雪球到处飞来飞去。我手里拿着一个文件夹,预备着必要时拿来当挡箭牌。杰西卡觉得我很恶搞,但看见了我的表情以后,她放弃了向我扔个雪球的打算。
我们刚进门,迈克就追上了我们。他大笑着,头发上沾满了融化的冰渣。当我们排队买食物的时候,他和杰西卡兴致勃勃地谈论着刚刚那场雪仗。我出于习惯,瞥了一眼角落里的那张桌子。然后,我僵在了那里。那张桌子旁坐着五个人。  
杰西卡拉住我的手。  
“喂?贝拉?你想吃点什么?”  
我低下头,耳朵都发热了。我没有必要这样自觉,我提醒自己。我又没有做错什么。  
“贝拉怎么了?”迈克问杰西卡。  
“没事,”我答道。“我今天喝苏打水就可以了。”我跟上队伍的尾巴。  
“你不饿吗?”杰西卡问。  
“是的,我有点不舒服。”我说,眼睛依然盯着地面。  
我等着他们去取他们的食物,然后跟着他们走到一张桌子旁坐下,眼睛自始至终都盯着自己的鞋。  
我小口小口地喝着苏打水,胃里一阵阵翻腾着。迈克两次问起我,带着我个人觉得很不必要的担心。  
我告诉他我没事。但我在想着是否应该表现得更夸张一些,然后逃到医务室把下一堂给翘掉。  
荒谬。我根本没有必要逃走。  
我决定允许自己瞄一眼卡伦一家那张桌子。如果他还瞪着我看,我就翘掉生物课,当个懦夫。  
他们都在哈哈大笑。爱德华,贾斯帕,还有艾密特,头发都湿透了,沾满了融化的雪。爱丽丝和罗莎莉都倚到一边去,因为艾密特在向她们甩着自己的头发。他们像别人一样,享受着下雪天的乐趣。只是和我们相比,他们看上去更像是电影里的某个镜头。  
但是,除了欢笑和嬉闹,还有些许不同之处。但我无法确切地说出到底有何不同。我更仔细地打量着爱德华。他的肤色不那么苍白了,我觉得——大概是一场雪仗带来的红晕——他眼睛下的黑眼圈也不那么明显了。但还不止这些。我反复思考着,看着,试图找出变化的地方。  
“贝拉,你在看什么?”杰西卡插进来,她的眼睛随着我的视线望去。  
就在那一刻,他的眼睛转过来,对上了我的双眼。  
我垂下头,让头发落下来遮住我的脸。但是,我能确定,在我们目光交汇的那一瞬,他看上去并没有我上次见到的那样严厉和不友好。他看上去只是有些好奇,还有某种程度的不满足。  
“爱德华?卡伦盯着你看呢。”杰西卡在我耳边咯咯地笑着。  
“他看上去不太生气,对吧?”我不禁问道。  
“不,”她说,听起来对我的问题深感困惑。“他应该生气吗?”  
“我不认为他喜欢我。”我坦言道。我还是有点想吐,于是把头靠在手臂上。  
“卡伦一家不喜欢任何人……嗯,他们甚至不去注意任何人,更别提喜欢了。可是,他还在盯着你看。”  
“不要再看他了。”我嘘声道。  
她窃笑着,但还是看向了别处。我稍稍抬起头,以确认她没在看,否则我就要采取bao——力来阻止她了。  
随后,迈克打断了我们。他计划放学后在停车场来一场史诗般的暴风雪式雪仗,想让我们加入。杰西卡满腔热情地响应了他的号召。瞧她看着迈克的样子,毫无疑问,无论迈克让她干什么她都会同意的。我保持沉默。看样子在停车场没人以前我都得躲在体育馆里了。
剩下的午餐时间里我小心翼翼地让自己的视线一直停留在我自己的桌子上。我决定尊重心底的天人交战的结果。既然他看上去没在生气,我就去上生物课。一想到要再次坐在他旁边,我的胃就可怕地抽动几下。  
我不太想和平时一样跟迈克一起去教室——他似乎是个极受欢迎的雪球狙击手们的移动靶子。但当我们走到门外的时候,我身旁的每个人都不约而同地唉声叹气起来。下雨了,雨水把积雪冲刷得干干净净,在人行道留下一道道冰痕。我窃喜着套上兜帽:下了体育课我可以直接回家了。  
去四号楼的路上,迈克一直在抱怨着。  
一进教室,我很宽慰地看到我的桌子依然是空的。班纳老师在教室里走来走去,给每张桌子发一台显微镜和一盒玻片。还有一会儿才开始上课,屋子里全是窃窃私语的嗡嗡声。我不再看门外,无所事事地在我的笔记本封面上涂鸦。  
当我旁边的椅子被移动的时候,我听得异常清楚,但我还是专注地看着我刚刚画的图案。  
“你好。”一个平静的,宛如天籁的声音说道。  
我抬起头,有些眩晕地发现他是在和我说话。他坐在桌子所能允许的尽可能远离我的地方,但他的凳子的一角向着我。他的头发湿漉漉的,还滴着水,凌乱不堪——尽管如此,他看上去就像刚刚拍完一个洗发水广告。他美得惊人的脸显得既亲切又坦率,一抹淡淡的微笑浮现在他完美无瑕的唇上。但他的眼神有些小心翼翼。  
“我是爱德华?卡伦,”他继续说道。“上周我没来得及向你作自我介绍。你一定是贝拉?史温吧。”  
我的脑子里一片混乱。难道整件事是我自己虚构出来的吗?他现在礼貌得无懈可击。我必须说点什么:他在等着。但我想不出什么值得一说的内容。  
“你……你是怎么知道我的名字的?”我结结巴巴地说。  
他温柔地笑起来,但显得有些迷惑。  
“噢,我想每个人都知道你的名字。整个小镇都在等待你的到来。”  
我不由得露出苦相。我就知道是这样。  
“不,”我愚蠢地坚持着。“我的意思是,为什么你叫我贝拉?”  
他看上去很困惑。“你更喜欢别人叫你伊莎贝拉?”  
“不,我喜欢贝拉这个名字。”我说。“但我想查理——我是说我爸爸——一定在背后叫我伊莎贝拉——所以这里的每个人似乎都只知道我叫伊莎贝拉。”我试图解释,感觉自己像是个彻头彻尾的笨蛋。  
“哦。”他不再纠缠于这个问题。我笨拙地移开视线。  
谢天谢地,就在这时,班纳老师开始上课了。我努力把注意力集中在他对我们今天要做的实验的讲解上。盒子里的玻片的次序已经被打乱了。我们要两人一组地进行实验,找出每个洋葱鳞茎表皮细胞玻片所代表的细胞分裂周期,并贴上相应的标签。在此过程中不允许我们翻看书本。二十分钟以后,他会来回巡视,看谁做得正确。  
“开始。”他下令道。
女士优先,伙计?”爱德华问道。我抬头看着他。他微笑着,弯起的嘴角是那么的迷人,以至于我只能像个白痴一样盯着他看。
“或者我先来,如果你愿意的话。”笑容有些僵硬,他显然在怀疑着我的智力能否胜任。
“不,”我说,满脸绯红。“我先来。”
我是在卖弄,但不算过火。我做过这个实验,我知道我该找什么。这很简单。我“啪”地一下把第一张玻片放到显微镜下,敏捷地调到40倍镜,然后简单地看了一下玻片。
我很有把握地下了结论。“前期。”
“让我看一眼好吗?”我正要移开玻片,他问道。与此同时,他抓住我的手,让我停下来。他的手指冰冷,就好像上课前他一直把手埋在雪堆里一样。但这不是我飞快地挣开手的缘故。当他触到我的时候,他的触碰灼痛了我的手,仿佛有一股电流刹那间从我们身上流过。
“对不起。”他低声说道,立刻收回了手。但是,他仍旧伸手拿过了显微镜。我有些动摇地看着他,他检视玻片的时间比我还短。
“前期。”他表示赞同,工整地写到我们的实验报告的第一栏空白处。他动作熟练地换上第二张玻片,粗略地看了一眼。
“后期。”他一边低语着,一边写下来。
我尽量让自己的声音显得漠不关心。“可以让我看一下吗?”
他撇嘴坏笑,把显微镜推给我。
我急切地透过接目镜看进去,却失望了。该死,他是对的。
“第三张玻片?”我伸出手,却不看他。
他把玻片递给我。他似乎小心翼翼地避免着再次和我有肌肤上的接触。(其实我很想翻译成肌肤相亲来着。。。一亲芳泽也可以。。。)
我用我能做到的最快速度看了看玻片。
“间期。”在他开口以前,我把显微镜递给了他。他飞快地瞄了一眼,然后写下来。在他看的时候我本可以写下来的,但他清秀雅致的笔迹把我镇住了。我不想用我笨拙潦草的字体毁掉这张纸。
我们早早地完成了实验,把别人都甩在了后头。我可以看到迈克和他的搭档在一遍又一遍地对比着两张玻片,而另一组则在桌子底下翻开了书。
我实在无事可做,只能尽量不让自己看他。但没有成功。我看过去,他正在盯着我看,眼里有着令人费解的挫败感。电光火石间,我发现了他容貌上的极细微的不同之处。
“你戴了隐形眼睛吗?”我不假思索地脱口而出。
他似乎对我出人意料的提问感到很困惑。“没有。”
“哦,”我咕哝着说。“我觉得你的眼睛有些不太一样。”
他耸耸肩,看向别处。
事实上,我确定他的眼睛有些不太一样。我对他那双纯黑的眸子记忆犹新——上次他曾那样地瞪着我——那种眸色在他的苍白肌肤和红色头发的映衬下越发醒目。今天,他的眼睛是另一种完全不同的颜色:一种奇怪的黄褐色,比奶油糖的颜色略深一些,但同样是金黄的色调。我无法理解这种事情,除非是他出于某种原因在隐形眼镜的事情上说了谎。又或者是福克斯让我疯狂地脱离了对世界的正常感知。
我向下看,他的双手又一次收紧握成拳头。
班纳老师走到我们的桌子旁,想看看为什么我们停下来不做了。他越过我们的肩膀看到已经完成了的实验,于是更加专注地检查起答案来。
“那么,爱德华,你不认为伊莎贝拉应该拥有使用显微镜的机会吗?”班纳老师问道。
“贝拉,”爱德华下意识地更正道。“事实上,她找出了五个之中的三个。”
现在班纳老师看着我,表情很是怀疑。
“你以前做过这个实验吗?”他问道。
我羞涩地一笑:“但不是用洋葱鳞茎。”
“是用白鱼囊胚?”
“没错。”
班纳老师点点头。“你在凤凰城上过大学先修课程吗?”
“是的。”
“很好,”他停顿了一会儿,说道,“我想你们两个在同一个实验小组是件好事。”当他走开的时候,嘴里还咕哝着什么。等他走了,我又开始在笔记本上涂涂画画。
“这雪太可惜了,不是吗?”爱德华问。我有一种感觉,他在强迫自己和我闲聊。我又开始犯妄想症了。这简直像是他听到了午餐时我和杰西卡的对话,正努力想要证明我是错误的。
“一点儿也不。”我老实答道,而不是假装和大家一样寻常。我仍在努力把愚蠢的多疑的念头从脑海里驱逐出去,没法集中注意力。
“你不喜欢寒冷。”这不是一个疑问句。
“还有潮湿。”
“福克斯对你来说一定是个不适宜居住的地方。”他若有所思地说。
“你根本想象不到。”我阴郁地低声含糊道。
他看上去对我所说的很着迷,但我想象不出是什么原因。他的脸让我分神,我只能在不失礼貌地前提下尽可能不去看他。  
“那么,你为什么会来这里呢?”  
从来没有人问过我这个问题——至少,不像他这样直白。  
“这……说来话长。”  
“我想我可以耐心地听完。”他敦促着。  
我停顿了许久,然后犯了一个错误:对上了他凝视着的双眸。他黑金色的眸子让我迷乱,于是想都不想就回答了。  
“我妈妈再婚了。”我说。  
“听起来不算很复杂。”他似乎不能赞同,但很快同情起我来。“什么时候的事?”  
“去年九月。”我的声音听起来有些感伤,至少对我来说。  
“但是,你不喜欢她的新丈夫。”爱德华推测着,声音依然很亲切。  
“不,菲尔人很好。可能,太年轻了点,但还是很好。”  
“为什么你不继续和他们一起住了呢?”  
我想不出他在对什么感兴趣,但他继续用那双富有穿透力的眼睛盯着我看,就好像我乏味的生活是一个异常精彩的传奇。  
“菲尔经常出差,他是个职业球员。”我勉强笑道。  
“我听说过他吗?”他问道,也笑了。  
“应该没有。他打得不太好,严格地说还在小联盟里。他总在东奔西跑。”  
“所以你母亲让你到这儿来,好让她能跟着他一起走四方。”他说这句话的语气更像是在做推论,而不是提问。  
我略微抬起下颚。“不,她没让我来这儿。是我自己要来的。”  
他颦起眉头。“我不明白。”他坦白道,看上去被这个事实深深地挫败了,而且有些过头。  
“刚开始她留下来陪我,但她很想念他,所以很不快乐……所以我觉得是时候和查理一起好过日子了。”我说着,声音沉了下去。  
“但现在,变成你不快乐了。”他指出来。  
“所以说?”我挑衅道。  
“这好像不太公平。”他耸耸肩,但眼神依然紧绷。  
我干笑着。“没有人告诉过你吗?生活是不公平的。”  
“我相信我曾经在某处听过这句话。”他冷冷地说道。  
“所以,说完了。”我坚持着,想知道为什么他还在用那种眼神盯着我。  
他的目光变为审视的神情。“你表现得很好,”他慢吞吞地说道。“但我敢打赌,你所经历的比你表现给任何人看的都要多。”  我向他做了个鬼脸,按捺住学五岁

[ 此帖被伊墨君在2013-02-27 17:11重新编辑 ]
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等级: 热心会员
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Preface
I'd never given much thought to how I would die — though I'd had reasonenough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not haveimagined it like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes ofthe hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone Iloved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now.

But, terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision.

When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it'snot reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.
我从未仔细思考过,我将如何死去——尽管在最近的几个月里我有足够的理由去考虑这个问题——但即使我想过,我也想象不到它将会像这样发生。

我屏住呼吸,盯着长长的房间对面,捕猎者黑色的双眼。他愉快地回视我。

显然,这是一种令人愉快的死亡方式:在别人的地方,我所爱的人的地方死去。甚至是,高尚的。这应该是值得的。

我知道如果我不回福克斯,我现在就不会面临着死亡。但是,尽管我十分恐惧,我依然无法让自己后悔这个决定。如果命运赐予你的美梦,远远超出了你所期待的那样美好,那么当它结束时你没有任何理由感到悲伤。

捕猎者温柔地微笑着,漫步过来给我最后的死亡。


Chapter 1 First Sight
  My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. Itwasseventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. Iwaswearing my favorite shirt — sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I waswearingit as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.
  In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a smalltownnamed Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rainsonthis inconsequential town more than any other place in the UnitedStatesof America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresentshade thatmy mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. Itwas inthis town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summeruntil Iwas fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; thesepastthree summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in Californiafor twoweeks instead.
  It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action that I took withgreat horror. I detested Forks.
  I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved thevigorous, sprawling city.
  "Bella," my mom said to me — the last of a thousand times — before Igoton the plane. "You don't have to do this."My mom looks like me,except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt aspasm of panic as Istared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leavemy loving, erratic,harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course shehad Phil now, sothe bills would probably get paid, there would be foodin therefrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she gotlost, butstill…"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd beensayingthis lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincingnow.
  "Tell Charlie I said hi.""I will.""I'll see you soon," sheinsisted. "You can come home whenever you want —I'll come right back assoon as you need me."But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behindthe promise.
  "Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you,Mom."She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane,and shewas gone.
  It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in asmallplane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down toForks.
  Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I wasa little worried about.
  Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. Heseemedgenuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the firsttimewith any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registeredfor highschool and was going to help me get a car.
  But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was whatanyonewould call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to sayregardless. Iknew he was more than a little confused by my decision —like my motherbefore me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste forForks.
  When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it asan omen— just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.
  Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too.
  Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. Myprimarymotivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds,wasthat I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and bluelightson top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.
  Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off theplane.
  "It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as heautomaticallycaught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How'sRenée?""Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed tocallhim Charlie to his face.
  I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were toopermeable forWashington. My mom and I had pooled our resources tosupplement my winterwardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easilyinto the trunk ofthe cruiser.
  "I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we werestrapped in.
  "What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good carforyou" as opposed to just "good car.""Well, it's a truck actually, aChevy.""Where did you find it?""Do you remember Billy Black down at LaPush?" La Push is the tiny Indianreservation on the coast.
  "No.""He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.
  That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blockingpainful, unnecessary things from my memory.
  "He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn'trespond, "sohe can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truckcheap.""What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression thatthiswas the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.
  "Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a fewyearsold, really."I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe Iwould give upthat easily. "When did he buy it?""He bought it in 1984, Ithink.""Did he buy it new?""Well, no. I think it was new in the earlysixties — or late fifties atthe earliest," he admitted sheepishly.
  "Ch — Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't beable tofix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford amechanic…""Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build themlike thatanymore."The thing, I thought to myself… it had possibilities —as a nickname, atthe very least.
  "How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromiseon.
  "Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecominggift."Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.
  Wow. Free.
  "You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself acar.""I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking aheadat theroad when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressinghisemotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was lookingstraightahead as I responded.
  "That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No needto addthat my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't needtosuffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth —orengine.
  "Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.
  We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, andthatwas pretty much it for Conversation. We stared out the windows insilence.
  It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green:
  the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hangingwith acanopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtereddowngreenly through the leaves.
  It was too green — an alien planet.
  Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in thesmall,two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the earlydays oftheir marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriagehad — theearly ones. There, parked on the street in front of the housethat neverchanged, was my new — well, new to me — truck. It was a fadedred color,with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intensesurprise, Iloved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could seemyself in it.
  Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never getsdamaged —the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paintunscratched,surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it haddestroyed.
  "Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow wouldbe justthat much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice ofeitherwalking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride intheChief's cruiser.
  "I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.
  It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got thewestbedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar;it hadbeen belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the lightbluewalls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around thewindow —these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charliehad evermade were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as Igrew. Thedesk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line forthe modemstapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was astipulationfrom my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. Therocking chairfrom my baby days was still in the corner.
  There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which Iwouldhave to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much onthatfact.
  One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He leftmealone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have beenaltogetherimpossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to haveto smileand look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the windowat thesheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in themood to goon a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when Iwould have tothink about the coming morning.
  Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundredandfifty-seven — now fifty-eight — students; there were more thansevenhundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kidsherehad grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlerstogether.
  I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.
  Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could workthis tomy advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. Ishould be tan,sporty, blond — a volleyball player, or a cheerleader,perhaps — all thethings that go with living in the valley of the sun.
  Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyesor redhair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender,but softsomehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessaryhand-eyecoordination to play sports without humiliating myself — andharming bothmyself and anyone else who stood too close.
  When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I tookmy bagof bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to cleanmyselfup after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror asIbrushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light,butalready I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty — itwasvery clear, almost translucent-looking — but it all depended oncolor. Ihad no color here.
  Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admitthat Iwas lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fitin. Andif I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousandpeople, whatwere my chances here?
  I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that Ididn'trelate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer tothananyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never onexactlythe same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the samethingsthrough my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing throughtheirs.
  Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter.Allthat mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just thebeginning.
  I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying.Theconstant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn'tfadeinto the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, andlateradded the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until aftermidnight,when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.
  Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and Icouldfeel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see theskyhere; it was like a cage.
  Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luckatschool. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tendedtoavoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was hiswifeand family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in oneofthe three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with itsdarkpaneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor.Nothingwas changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen yearsago in anattempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the smallfireplacein the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row ofpictures.
  First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, thenone ofthe three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by ahelpfulnurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up tolastyear's. Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to seewhat Icould do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least whileI wasliving here.
  It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie hadnever gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.
  I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in thehouseanymore. I donned my jacket — which had the feel of a biohazardsuit —and headed out into the rain.
  It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me throughimmediately asI reached for the house key that was always hidden underthe eaves by thedoor, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproofboots wasunnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. Icouldn'tpause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry toget outof the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to myhair undermy hood.
  Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charliehadobviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats stillsmelledfaintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine startedquickly,to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at topvolume.
  Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radioworked, a plus that I hadn't expected.
  Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before.
  The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. Itwas notobvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it tobe theForks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection ofmatchinghouses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so manytrees andshrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel oftheinstitution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-linkfences,the metal detectors?
  I parked in front of the first building, which had a small signover thedoor reading front office. No one else was parked there, so Iwas sure itwas off limits, but I decided I would get directions insideinstead ofcircling around in the rain like an idiot. I steppedunwillingly out ofthe toasty truck cab and walked down a little stonepath lined with darkhedges. I took a deep breath before opening thedoor.
  Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The officewassmall; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs,orange-fleckedcommercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering thewalls, a big clockticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in largeplastic pots, as if therewasn't enough greenery outside. The room wascut in half by a longcounter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papersand brightly coloredflyers taped to its front. There were three desksbehind the counter, oneof which was manned by a large, red-haired womanwearing glasses. She waswearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately mademe feel overdressed.
  The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?""I'm IsabellaSwan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awarenesslight her eyes. Iwas expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter ofthe Chief's flightyex-wife, come home at last.
  "Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pileofdocuments on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for."Ihave your schedule right here, and a map of the school." Shebroughtseveral sheets to the counter to show roe.
  She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route toeachon the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which Iwas tobring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped,likeCharlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled backasconvincingly as I could.
  When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive.
  I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I wasglad tosee that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy.At homeI'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that wereincludedin the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see anewMercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was ashinyVolvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I wasin aspot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.
  I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now;hopefully Iwouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of mynose all day. Istuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over myshoulder, andsucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myselffeebly. No onewas going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out ofthe truck.
  I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to thesidewalk,crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out,I noticedwith relief.
  Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. Alargeblack "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. Ifelt mybreathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as Iapproached thedoor. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisexraincoatsthrough the door.
  The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped justinsidethe door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copiedthem.
  They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other alsopale,with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standouthere.
  I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose deskhad anameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he sawmyname — not an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomatored.
  But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back withoutintroducingme to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stareat me inthe back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on thereadinglist the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte,Shakespeare,Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That wascomforting… andboring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder ofold essays, or ifshe would think that was cheating. I went throughdifferent argumentswith her in my head while the teacher droned on.
  When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy withskinproblems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle totalkto me.
  "You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful,chess club type.
  "Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to lookat me.
  "Where's your next class?" he asked.
  I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, inbuildingsix."There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.
  "I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitelyover-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.
  I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."We got our jackets and headed outinto the rain, which had picked up. Icould have sworn several peoplebehind us were walking close enough toeavesdrop. I hoped I wasn'tgetting paranoid.
  "So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.
  "Very.""It doesn't rain much there, does it?""Three or four times a year.""Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.
  "Sunny," I told him.
  "You don't look very tan.""My mother is part albino."He studied myface apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like cloudsand a sense ofhumor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget howto use sarcasm.
  We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym.
  Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.
  "Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll havesome other classes together." He sounded hopeful.
  I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.
  The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. MyTrigonometryteacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway justbecause of thesubject he taught, was the only one who made me stand infront of theclass and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, andtripped over my ownboots on the way to my seat.
  After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces ineachclass. There was always someone braver than the others whowouldintroduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was likingForks. Itried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least Ineverneeded the map.
  One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walkedwith meto the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorterthan myfive feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up alot ofthe difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name,so Ismiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. Ididn'ttry to keep up.
  We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, whosheintroduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them.
  They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy fromEnglish, Eric, waved at me from across the room.
  It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation withseven curious strangers, that I first saw them.
  They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away fromwhereI sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. Theyweren'ttalking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a trayofuntouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlikemostof the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fearofmeeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none ofthesethings that caught, and held, my attention.
  They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big —muscledlike a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another wastaller,leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky,lessbulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish thantheothers, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachershererather than students.
  The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She hadabeautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the SportsIllustratedswimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her takea hit onher self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair wasgolden,gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl waspixielike,thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deepblack,cropped short and pointing in every direction.
  And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalkypale,the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Palerthanme, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range inhairtones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish,bruiselikeshadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night,or almostdone recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, alltheirfeatures, were straight, perfect, angular.
  But all this is not why I couldn't look away.
  I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, werealldevastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you neverexpected tosee except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashionmagazine. Orpainted by an old master as the face of an angel. It washard to decidewho was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl,or thebronze-haired boy.
  They were all looking away — away from each other, away from theotherstudents, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell.As Iwatched, the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda,unbittenapple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope thatbelonged on arunway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, tillshe dumped hertray and glided through the back door, faster than I wouldhave thoughtpossible. My eyes darted back to the others, who satunchanging.
  "Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'dforgotten.
  As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing,probably,from my tone — suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, theboyishone, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just afractionof a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.
  He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in aflush ofembarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of aglance,his face held nothing of interest — it was as if she had calledhis name,and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already havingdecided not toanswer.
  My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.
  "That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. Theonewho left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen andhiswife." She said this under her breath.
  I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at histray now,picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouthwas movingvery quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other threestilllooked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them.
  Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had.
  But maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finallyrememberedthat my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name.There weretwo girls named Jessica in my History class back home.
  "They are… very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuousunderstatement.
  "Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all togetherthough —Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And theylivetogether." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of thesmalltown, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had toadmitthat even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.
  "Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't lookrelated…""Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twentiesor earlythirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister,twins —the blondes — and they're foster children.""They look a littleold for foster children.""They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are botheighteen, but they've beenwith Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She'stheir aunt or somethinglike that.""That's really kind of nice — for themto take care of all those kidslike that, when they're so young andeverything.""I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got theimpression thatshe didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason.With the glancesshe was throwing at their adopted children, I wouldpresume the reasonwas jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have anykids, though," sheadded, as if that lessened their kindness.
  Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and againtothe table where the strange family sat. They continued to look atthewalls and not eat.
  "Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticedthem on one of my summers here.
  "No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, evento anew arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago fromsomewherein Alaska."I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, asbeautiful as theywere, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted.Relief that I wasn't theonly newcomer here, and certainly not the mostinteresting by anystandard.
  As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up andmetmy gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As Ilookedswiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind ofunmetexpectation.
  "Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. Ipeeked athim from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me,but notgawking like the other students had today — he had a slightlyfrustratedexpression. I looked down again.
  "That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste yourtime. Hedoesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-lookingenoughfor him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wonderedwhen he'dturned her down.
  I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. Hisface wasturned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if heweresmiling, too.
  After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together.Theyall were noticeably graceful — even the big, brawny one. Itwasunsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.
  I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I wouldhaveif I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for classon myfirst day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately remindedmethat her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. Wewalkedto class together in silence. She was shy, too.
  When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-toppedlabtable exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had aneighbor. Infact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the centeraisle, Irecognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next tothat singleopen seat.
  As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher andget myslip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed,hesuddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting myeyeswith the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious.Ilooked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a bookinthe walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. Thegirlsitting there giggled.
  I'd noticed that his eyes were black — coal black.
  Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsenseaboutintroductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course,he hadno choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of theroom.
  I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by theantagonistic stare he'd given me.
  I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat,but Isaw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaningawayfrom me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting hisfacelike he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair.Itsmelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemedaninnocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder,making adark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to theteacher.
  Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'dalreadystudied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.
  I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through thescreen of myhair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class,he neverrelaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting asfar fromme as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg wasclenched into afist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This,too, he neverrelaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushedup to hiselbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscularbeneath hislight skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next tohis burlybrother.
  The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it becausetheday was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for histightfist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still itlooked likehe wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this hisnormalbehavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness atlunchtoday. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.
  It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.
  I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaringdownat me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched awayfromhim, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could killsuddenlyran through my mind.
  At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and EdwardCullenwas out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller thanI'dthought — his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone elsewasout of their seat.
  I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean.Itwasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to blocktheanger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For somereason, mytemper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when Iwas angry,a humiliating tendency.
  "Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.
  I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond haircarefullygelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. Heobviouslydidn't think I smelled bad.
  "Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.
  "I'm Mike.""Hi, Mike.""Do you need any help finding your nextclass?""I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.""That'smy next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't thatbig of acoincidence in a school this small.
  We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied mostof theconversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in Californiatill hewas ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out hewas in myEnglish class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.
  But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stabEdwardCullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."Icringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently,thatwasn't Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.
  "Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.
  "Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something.""Idon't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him.""He's a weird guy."Mike lingered by me instead of heading to thedressing room. "If I werelucky enough to sit by you, I would have talkedto you."I smiled at himbefore walking through the girls' locker room door. Hewas friendly andclearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease myirritation.
  The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make medressdown for today's class. At home, only two years of RE. wererequired.
  Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personalhell on Earth.
  I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Rememberinghowmany injuries I had sustained — and inflicted — playing volleyball,Ifelt faintly nauseated.
  The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office toreturn mypaperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong,andcolder. I wrapped my arms around myself.
  When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walkedback out.
  Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized againthattousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of myentrance.
  I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to befree.
  He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quicklypicked upthe gist of the argument. He was trying to trade fromsixth-hour Biologyto another time — any other time.
  I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to besomethingelse, something that happened before I entered the Biologyroom. The lookon his face must have been about another aggravationentirely. It wasimpossible that this stranger could take such a sudden,intense disliketo me.
  The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted throughtheroom, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around myface.
  The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note inthewire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's backstiffened,and he turned slowly to glare at me — his face was absurdlyhandsome —with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt athrill ofgenuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasteda second,but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned backto thereceptionist.
  "Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I canseethat it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turnedonhis heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.
  I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, andhanded her the signed slip.
  "How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.
  "Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.
  When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. Itseemedlike a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this dampgreenhole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshieldblankly.But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the keyandthe engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house,fightingtears the whole way there.
第一章 初见

我母亲开车载我去机场,车窗开着。七十五华氏度,凤凰城,天空是澄澈的,不带一丝云影的湛蓝。我穿着我最喜欢的衬衫——无袖,带着白色的网眼蕾丝。我穿着它,作为一种告别的仪式。我随身携带的物品只是一件皮夹克。

在华盛顿州西北部的奥林匹亚山脉,有个永远笼罩在阴霾里的名叫福克斯的小镇。这里的雨水多得不可思议,比美利坚合众国的其他任何地方都要多。就是从这个小镇,我母亲带着我逃出来,逃离那里充斥着的压抑的阴霾,那时我才几个月大。就在这个小镇,每个夏天我都被逼着去那里过上一个月,直到我十四岁那年。那年我终于坚定表明了我并不想去。而后的几个夏天,我的父亲,查理,只好带我去加利福尼亚度过两周的假期作为替代。

现在,我把自己放逐到了福克斯——这是一个我自认为十分崇高的举动。我讨厌福克斯。

我热爱凤凰城。我热爱这里的阳光和热浪。我热爱这个生气勃勃,不断扩张着的城市。

“贝拉,”在我上飞机前,我母亲第一千遍地对我说,“你真的不必这样做。”

我母亲和我长得很像,除了短短的头发和笑纹。当我注视着她大大的,孩童般的双眼时,我感到一阵突如其来的痉挛。我怎能离开我挚爱的、稳定性极差的、粗心大意的母亲,让她自己照顾自己呢?当然现在她有菲尔,账单有人付,冰箱有人补充食物,车有人加油,当她迷路时也有可打电话求助的人,但是……

“我真的想去。”我撒谎道。我通常是个蹩脚的说谎者,但我如此频繁地重复这个谎言,以至于它现在听起来很有说服力。

“替我向查理问好。”

“我会的。”

“我很快就会来看你的,”她强调。“不管任何时候,只要你想回家,你就只管回来——只要你需要,我会立刻赶过来。”

但我能从她的双眼里看出她会为此作出的牺牲。

“不用担心我,”我竭力劝说。“一切都会顺利的。我爱你,妈妈。”

她紧紧地拥抱了我一分钟,然后我上飞机,她离去。

从凤凰城飞到西雅图要四个小时,然后转到一架小飞机飞一个小时到天使港,最后还要开一个小时车才能到达福克斯。飞行对我没什么影响,但我却有些害怕和查理待在一辆车里的那一个小时。

查理对整件事相当的接受。他真的很高兴,因为这是我第一次,也几乎是永久性的搬来和他住在一起。他甚至为我办好了高中入学手续,还打算帮我弄辆车。

但和查理相处仍毫无疑问地是件尴尬事。我们都不擅长谈话,我也不知道有什么事情可以让我们毫无顾忌地谈论。我知道他对我的决定仍有些困惑,就像我母亲在我面前表现的那样,因为我从未掩饰过我对福克斯的厌恶。

当我抵达天使港时,天下着雨。我不打算把这视为某种征兆——这只是不可避免的现实。我已经和阳光作别了。

查理在一辆巡逻车旁等着我,这也是我预料之中的事。查理是福克斯镇的良好市民的史温警长。我虽然囊中羞涩也要买辆车的主要动机,就是不想坐着顶上有红蓝色灯的车在镇里乱晃。警察可是造成交通堵塞的万恶之首。

我跌跌绊绊地从飞机上下来以后,查理只伸出一只手有些尴尬地拥抱了我一下。

“很高兴见到你,贝拉。”他微笑着说,不假思索地抓住我让我稳住。“你没多大变化。蕾妮好吗?”

“妈妈很好。我也很高兴见到你,爸爸。”他们不让我当面叫他查理。
我只带了几袋行李,我在亚利桑那州的大部分衣物对华盛顿州的气候来说都太薄了。我母亲和我把钱凑起来给我添置了一些冬装,但这仍远远不够。这几袋行李很容易就塞进了巡逻车的后备箱。

“我弄了辆适合你的好车,相当便宜。”当我们系上安全带时,他宣布道。

“什么样的车?”我对他放着简简单单的“好车”不说,却故意说是“适合你的好车”这点很是怀疑。

“嗯,确切地说是辆卡车,一辆雪佛兰。”

“你在哪儿弄到的?”

“你还记得拉普什的黑仔比利吧?”拉普什是在海岸线上的一个小小的印第安人保留区。

“不记得。”

“夏天时他曾经跟我们一起去钓鱼。”查理提示我。

这解释了我为什么不记得他。把那些充满痛苦的,不必要的回忆抹去是我的拿手好戏。

“他现在坐轮椅了,”我不作声,查理只得继续说道:“所以他再也不能开车了,他主动把他的卡车便宜卖我了。”

“哪年的车?”我可以从他骤变的神色看出,这是一个他不希望我提起的问题。

“嗯,比利在引擎上下了不少力气——才几年的车,真的。”

我希望他不要这样小看我,认为我会轻易放弃。“他哪年买的?”

“我想,他是在1984年买的。”

“他买的时候是辆新车吗?”

“嗯,不,我想它是六十年代早期的车——最早也是五十年代的。”他爽快地承认了。

“查——爸爸,我对汽车一无所知。如果它坏了我没办法自己去修理它,我也没有钱请个修理工……”

“真的,贝拉。这家伙跑得棒极了。他们再也没有生产过像这样的好车。”

这家伙,我暗自思索着……这可能是——是个昵称,极有可能。

“好了,宝贝,作为欢迎你回家的礼物,我几乎已经算是买下来了。”查理满怀希望地偷看着我。

哈,免费。

“你不必这样做的,爸爸。我打算自己买辆车的。”

“我不介意。我只想让你在这里过得快乐。”他说这些时直视着前方的路面。查理不擅长坦白地表达自己的感受。在这方面我受他的遗传。于是作为回应我也直直地向前看着。

“真的太棒了,爸爸。谢谢。我真的很感激。”不必补充我在福克斯感到快乐是个不可能事件。他本不必忍受与我相处的漫长时光。更何况,馈赠之马不看牙——或者引擎。

“嗯,现在,欢迎回来。”他喃喃道,对我的感谢尴尬不已。

我们交换了一点对天气的看法,包括今天是否有些潮湿。在没有更多的话题可供讨论以后,我们都沉默地看着窗外。

当然,这里很美。我不能否认这一点。一切都是绿色的:那些树,树干上长满了苔藓,枝干上挂着的绿叶宛如穹庐,地面覆盖着蕨科植物。就连空气都像被叶子过滤了一样弥漫着绿意。

这里太绿了——对我来说像外星球一样。

最终我们抵达了查理的房子。他依然住在那栋小小的、只有两个卧室的房子里。那是他和我母亲新婚燕尔时他买下来的房子。他们的婚姻也只持续了那些日子——较早的那些。在那儿,停靠在房子前的街道上的,确凿无疑,是我的新——嗯,对我来说是新的——卡车。它是辆褪色的红色卡车,有着巨大的圆形的挡泥板,还有一个灯泡状的驾驶室。让我十分吃惊的是,我喜欢这辆车。我不知道它还能不能动,但我从它身上看到了我自己。它是那种永远也撞不坏坚硬的铁家伙——就是那种你在事故现场看到的车,漆都没蹭掉半块,周围全是它毁坏的外国汽车的碎片。

“哇,爸爸。我喜欢它!谢谢!”现在我恐怖的明天将不会那么吓人了。我不必再面对是在雨中步行两英里去学校还是坐着警长开的巡逻车去学校的两难选择了。

只一趟我的全部行李就被全部搬上了楼。我住在西面正对着前院的卧室。这个卧室对我来说毫不陌生,从我出生时起它就属于我了。原木地板,淡蓝色的壁纸,尖尖的天花板,窗上淡黄色的蕾丝窗帘——这些都是我童年的一部分。唯一的变化是随着我天天长大查理把摇篮换成了床铺还添了一个写字桌。写字桌上现在摆着一台二手电脑,连着长长的拖过地板的电话线接着调制解调器到最近的电话接口。这是与我母亲的约定,这样我们就可以更方便地联系了。我孩提时的摇椅依然放在角落里。
福克斯中学有着惊人的学生数目,357——现在是358——名学生;在我家那边仅初中部就有超过700名学生。所有的孩子都是在一块儿长大的——他们的爷爷奶奶在蹒跚学步时就在一起了。

我将成为从大城市里转来的女孩,一个新鲜的,古怪的存在。

也许,如果我看起来像是个来自凤凰城的女孩,我能更占些优势。但事实上,我和任何地方都格格不入。我应当是棕褐色的,运动型的,发色发浅的——一个排球运动员,或者一个拉拉队队长,也许——拥有一些看起来像是生活在日光城的特征。

但相反的,我拥有着象牙白色的肌肤——不是因为蓝眼睛或者红头发的反衬——持续充足的阳光对我毫无作用。我身材纤细,但有些单薄,显然不是个运动家的身材;我也没有足够的平衡感来参与运动而不让自己蒙羞——不伤到自己或者任何离我太近的人。

把所有的衣服都塞进那口老旧的松木衣橱后,我拿上洗漱包到与查理共用的浴室里,洗去身上的一路风尘。在我洗那一团纠结的、潮湿的头发时,我盯着镜中自己的脸。也许是光线的缘故,我看上去脸色发黄,形容憔悴。我的肌肤本可以很美的——它原是明亮的,近乎透明的雪白——但它需要好气色。我现在毫无神采。(这段翻译得很烂。。。我对外表描述最没辙了。。。)

看着镜子里我黯淡的身影,我被迫承认我一直在对自己撒谎。我只是不能接受现实。如果我在一个三千人的学校里都找不到自己的位置,我在这里又有什么机遇可言?

我和同龄人相处得并不好。也许事实是我无法与人相处。甚至是我的母亲,她是我在这个星球上最亲近的人,她也从未与我和谐相处过,至少从未步调一致过。有时我会怀疑透过我眼睛所看到的世界是否和他们所看到的一致。也许是我的脑子有问题。但这都无关紧要。重要的是结果。而明天即将开始。

那天晚上我睡得不好,即便在我大哭一场以后也没睡好。连绵的风雨声穿透屋顶,丝毫没有减弱为背景音乐的迹象。我扯过褪色的旧棉被蒙住头,最后连枕头也压上了。但我直到午夜才能入睡,那时侯降雨终于变为比较安静的毛毛细雨。

清晨,当我向窗外望去时,我只能看到浓重的雾霾。我可以感到幽闭恐惧症正在向我袭来。你不会有机会看到这里的天空。这像个笼子。

和查理共进早餐是件安静的事。他祝我在学校过得愉快。我感谢他,但知道他的希望只是白费。好运总是躲着我。查理先走了,去了警署,那里更像是他的家。在他离开后,我坐进靠着那张老旧的橡木方桌放着的三张不配对的椅子的其中一张,审视着他小小的厨房。灰暗的墙壁嵌板,明黄色的壁橱,白色的油毯地面。什么都没变。壁橱是我母亲十八年前粉刷的,她想给这座房子引些阳光进来。小小的壁炉上方,紧挨着只有手帕大小的家庭活动室,是一组照片。第一张是查理和我母亲在拉斯维加斯拍的结婚照,然后是我们三个在医院的合照,是一位好心的护士帮忙拍的。紧接着的是一系列之后我在学校里的照片。看到这些实在让人尴尬——我希望我能说服查理把这些照片放到别处去,至少在我住在这里的时候。

呆在这所房子里,很难让人不意识到查理根本从未真正忘掉我母亲。这让我感到不自在。

我不想太早去学校,但我在这房子里再也呆不下去了。我穿上我的夹克——感觉更像是生化防护服——一头冲进雨中。

天仍然下着蒙蒙细雨,但不足以在我拿藏在门檐下的钥匙并锁门时把我淋透。我新买的防水靴溅起泥水的声音让人烦躁。当我走动时我怀念着踏在碎石上的应该有的吱嘎声。我无法像我期望的那样停下来确认我的卡车。我急于离开这种雾蒙蒙的潮湿,它让我的头一阵阵眩晕,让我的头发紧贴着我的兜帽。

卡车里舒适而干燥。不是比利就是查理把这里清理得干干净净。但皮制软垫座椅上依然散发着淡淡的烟草,汽油和薄荷的味道。引擎发动得很快,这让我感到宽慰,但噪声很大,响得要命,在空转时到达最高声量。好吧,这把年纪的卡车不可避免地会有一点瑕疵。那台老古董收音机居然还能用,这可是个意外收获。
找到学校并不困难,尽管我此前从未去过那里。这所学校,像其他大多数建筑一样,就建在高速公路旁。但作为一所学校它太不显眼了;除了那个标志,声明它就是福克斯中学,才让我停下车来。它看上去像是由一组一模一样的,用红砖砌成的楼房组成的。这里有太多的大树和灌木,让我无法一眼看清它的校园大小。教育机构的感觉在哪里?我怀着满腹乡愁思索着。插着铁藜的高墙在哪里?金属探测器在哪里?

我把车停在了第一栋建筑物前面,这里的门上有个小小的牌子写着总务处。没有人把车停在这儿,所以我确定这里是不许停车的。但我决定不管它,径直走进去,而不是像个白痴一样在雨里兜圈子。我不情愿地离开暖和舒适的驾驶室,走过一段小石子砌成的、围着暗色树篱的小径。我深深吸了一口气,然后推开门。

屋子里比我希望的还要明亮和温暖。这间办公室很小,有一个摆着折叠椅的小小的等待区,地上铺着橘黄色斑点的商用地毯,布告和奖状混杂着贴满墙壁,墙上的钟滴答滴答,声音响亮。养在大大的塑料容器里的绿色植物随处可见,就好像外头还不够绿一样。这间屋子被一张长长的柜台切成两半,柜台上杂乱地摆了装满了文件的、前端绑着亮彩丝带的铁丝筐。柜台后有三张办公桌,其中一张属于一位身躯庞大戴眼镜的红发女士。她只穿着一件粉色T恤衫,这立刻让我感到自己穿得太多了。

那位红发女士抬头看过来:“有什么事吗?”

“我是伊莎贝拉?史温。”我告诉她,却见她眼睛一亮。毫无疑问,我是期待已久的八卦头条。警长轻浮的前妻的女儿终于回家了。

“当然。”她说。她在桌上摇摇欲坠的文件堆里翻找着,直到找到她想要找的那些文件。“这是你的课程表,还有一张校园地图。”她拿着几份表格到柜台给我看。

她和我一起讨论了我的课程,在地图上标出上课的最佳路线,然后给我一张纸条让各科老师在上面签名,一天结束以后我再把纸条带回来给她。她对我微笑,像查理一样,希望我将会喜欢这里。我也向她微笑,尽可能笑得更让人信服一些。

当我回到车上时,别的一些学生也陆续到校了。我开车穿过校园,紧跟着大部队。我很高兴看到大多数的车都像我的车老旧,一点儿也不浮华。在凤凰城我住在少数几个由天堂谷区辖管的低收入区里。但在学生堆里看到一辆奔驰或是保时捷是件寻常事。而在这里,最好的车是一辆闪闪发光的沃尔沃,它显得格外突出。我在陷入窘境以前迅速地关掉了引擎,防止它雷鸣般的轰鸣给我招来太多关注。

我在车里看着地图,力求现在就记住它的内容。我可不想一整天都把它展在鼻子底下走路。我把所有东西都塞进书包里,把书包带甩到肩后,然后深吸一口气。我能做到的,我对自己说着苍白无力的谎言。没有人正等着咬我一口。(我喜欢这句话,草蛇伏灰,线在千里之外,呵呵)最终我呼了口气,走下车来。

我把脸隐藏在兜帽下,走向挤满了少男少女的人行道。我式样简洁的黑夹克在人群里一点儿也不突出,这让我感到欣慰。

在我绕过自助餐厅后,很容易就找到了三号楼。一个大大的黑色的“3”写在楼东角一处白色方块里。在走到门前时,我能感到我的呼吸越来越用力,快透不过气来了。我试图稳住自己的呼吸,跟着两个穿着不分男女的雨衣的人走进大门。

这间教室很小。走在我前面的两个人一进门就停住了,把他们的雨衣挂在长长的一排挂钩上。我学着他们的样子做。原来那是两个女孩,一个有着瓷器般的肌肤和明亮的金发,另一个肤色也很浅,头发是浅褐色的。至少我的肤色在这里不是那么突兀的存在了。

我把纸条拿给老师,那是一个高大的、有些谢顶的男人,桌上的名牌写着他是梅森老师。当他看到我的名字时他目瞪口呆地看着我——对我来说这不是个令人鼓舞的举动——当然我立刻满脸通红。但最终他把我领到一张空桌子旁,没让我向全班自我介绍。这样我的新同班同学们就很难从后面偷偷瞄我了,但无论如何,他们还是办到了。我埋头看老师开给我的阅读清单。都是些很基本的内容:布朗蒂,莎士比亚,乔叟,福克纳。这些我都读过。这让人感到宽慰……也感到无聊。我思索着能不能让我母亲把我装着旧论文的文件夹给寄过来,或者说她会不会认为这是作弊。老师讲课的时候,我在脑海里和母亲不停着作着各种争论。

铃声响了起来,一个嗓音尖细,身材瘦长,满脸粉刺的黑发男孩像油一样滑行冲过过道来和我说话。

“你是伊莎贝拉?史温,对吧?”他看上去像是过分热情的象棋俱乐部成员。

“贝拉,”我更正。距我半径三排以内的每一个人都转过头来看我。

“你下一堂课是什么?”他问道。

我不得不在我书包里翻找着。“嗯,gover-nment课,杰斐逊的课,在六号楼。”

无论我向哪个方向看,都无法避开一双双好奇的眼睛。

“我要去四号楼,我可以给你带路……”显然是热情过头了。“我是埃里克。”他补充到。

我尝试着微笑:“谢谢。”
我们穿上夹克,冲进如影随行的雨幕中。我可以发誓有好几个人紧跟在我们后面,近得都能偷听到我们对话。我希望我不要变得这样多疑。

“嗯,这里跟凤凰城很不一样,嗯?”他问道。

“很不一样。”

“那里不常下雨,对吧?”

“一年三四次。”

“哇,那会是什么样的感觉?”他疑惑地问。

“阳光灿烂。”我告诉他。

“你看上不太黑。”

“我母亲是半个白化病人。”

他担心地审视着我的脸。我叹了口气。这里看上去乌云密布,和幽默感格格不入。几个月以后我就会忘记怎么说反讽话了。

我们往回走,绕过自助餐厅,走到南边体育馆旁的建筑物那里。埃里克让我直走到门口,尽管门上标得清清楚楚。

“好了,祝你好运,”当我摸到门把手时他说。“也许我们还会有别的课一起上。”他听上去满心期待。

我对他敷衍地一笑,走了进去。

这个上午的余下时间都在同样的模式中度过。教我三角函数的瓦尔纳老师——我本该只因为他教的科目而讨厌他——是唯一一个让我站在全班面前做自我介绍的人。我红着脸,结结巴巴地说完,然后在回到座位的路上还绊到了我自己。

两堂课后,我开始认得每堂课上的一些面孔。总有一些人比别人更勇敢地过来介绍他自己,问我是否喜欢福克斯等诸如此类的问题。我试图回答得更老练些,但大多数情况下我只是在不停地说谎。至少我用不着那张地图了。

有个女孩在三角函数课和西班牙语课上都坐在我旁边,午餐时间她和我一起去自助餐厅。她个子娇小,比我五英尺四英寸的身高矮几英寸,但她蓬松的黑色卷发填补了一些我们身高上的差距。我没记住她的名字,所以当她喋喋不休地谈论着老师和课程时我只能微笑和点头。我不打算跟进她的话题。

我们坐在一张坐满她的朋友的长桌尽头,她向她的几个朋友介绍我。她一说完我就忘掉了他们的名字。他们看上去对她敢于和我说话这点印象深刻。那个来自英国的男孩,埃里克,从房间的另一头向我招手。

就在这里,坐在餐厅里,尝试着和七个好奇的陌生人对话的时候,我第一次见到他们。

他们坐在自助餐厅的一角,与我坐的地方隔着长长的房间。他们五个人,既不交谈,也不吃东西,尽管他们每个人面前都摆着一盘不曾动过的食物。他们不像大多数学生那样呆呆地盯着我看,因此盯着他们看很安全,不必担心遇上一双太过感兴趣的眼睛。但这些都不是吸引我注意力的原因。

他们的长相并不相似。三个男孩中的一个体格健硕——浑身的肌肉像个专业举重运动员——长着一头卷曲的黑发。另一个男孩更高些,瘦削些,但还是很健壮,头发是蜜色的。最后一个男孩身材瘦长,更纤细些,有着慵懒凌乱的红发。他比另外两个显得更孩子气些,那两个看上去更像是大学生,或者说,更像这里的老师而不像是学生。

两个女孩刚好是相反的类型。高个子的女孩长得像雕像一样。她有着美丽的轮廓,就是你会在运动画报游泳版封面上看到的那种,只是和她呆在一个房间,就能让她周围的每个女孩子自尊都深受打击的美丽。她的头发是金黄色的,轻轻地飘拂在她的后背中间。那个矮个子女孩看上去像个精灵,身材极其纤细,有着小巧精致的五官。她黝黑的头发剪得很短,向各个方向张扬着。

但是,他们也有相似之处。他们都像粉笔一样苍白,比生活在这个缺乏阳光的小镇里的任何学生都要苍白。比我这个白化病人还要白。无论发色深浅,他们都有着黑色的眸子。在他们的眼睛下都有着黑色的阴影——略带紫色的,瘀伤一样的阴影。就好像他们经历了一个无眠之夜,又或者是鼻子折断了还没好。尽管他们的鼻子,他们的五官,都既笔挺又完美,棱角分明。

但这都不是我无法收回视线的缘故。
我盯着看是因为他们的脸,如此不同而又如此相似的,近乎嘲讽的,超越常人的美丽。他们的面孔,你不会有机会在时尚杂志的彩页以外的任何地方看到这样的面孔。就像是古老的画家所画出的天使的面孔。很难判断谁长得最美——也许是那个完美的金发女孩,又或者是那个红发男孩。

他们都看着别处——没有看着彼此,也没有看着别的学生,没有看着任何我能确定他们在看的东西。在我这样看着的时候,那个小个子女孩端着盘子站起来——盘子上的苏打水没有开封,苹果也没被咬过——用一种敏捷优雅的,只属于T型台的步子走起来。我惊异地看着她柔美的舞者般的步子,直到她把盘子倒掉,行云流水般地从后门走出去,速度超乎我想象的快。我重新把目光投向剩下的几个人,他们仍一动不动地坐着。

“他们是谁?”我询问和我一起上西班牙语课,名字我忘了的女孩。

当她抬头看向我所指的人时——也许从我的声音里就已经听出来了——忽然,他看着她,那个最瘦的,最孩子气的,也许是最年轻的男孩。他只盯着我的邻座看了几分之一秒,然后,他深邃的双眼对上了我的眼睛。

他很快收回了目光,比我还快,尽管我立刻就红着脸尴尬得垂下了眼。在那惊鸿一瞥中,他脸上没有任何感兴趣的神情。也许只是因为她说了他的名字,他本能的看了过来,但决定了不作回应。

我的邻座局促不安地傻笑着,跟我一样盯着桌子看。

“那是爱德华和艾密特?卡伦兄弟,还有罗莎莉和贾斯帕?黑尔姐弟。走了的那个是爱丽丝?卡伦,他们都和卡伦博士夫妇住在一起。”她低声说道。

我从一旁瞥了一眼那个俊美的男孩,他现在盯着自己的盘子看,用纤长苍白的手指拿起一个面包圈撕成一片片。他的嘴动得很快,他漂亮的嘴唇只是微微张开。其余三个依然看着别处,但我可以感觉到他是在小声跟他们说话。

奇怪的,复古的名字,我这样想着。这样的名字是祖父母辈才用的名字。但也许在这里很时髦?——小镇里的名字?我最终想起来坐我旁边的女孩叫杰西卡,一个相当普通的名字。在我家那边我的历史课上就有两个叫杰西卡的女生。

“他们……很好看。”我努力但又太过明显地掩饰着。

“没错!”杰西卡表示赞成,又是一阵傻笑。“但他们都成双成对——我是指,艾密特和罗莎莉,贾斯帕和爱丽丝。而且他们都住在一起


[ 此帖被伊墨君在2013-02-27 16:48重新编辑 ]
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