on mine.
"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," she said, her tone critical and disappointed.
How ironic. She was relentlessly evasive, without even trying.
Well, she wanted me to be direct. And this conversation wasn't going anywhere good, regardless.
"Fine, then," I said. "I followed your scent."
I wanted to watch her face, but I was afraid of what I would see. Instead, I listened to her breath
accelerate and then stabilize. She spoke again after a moment, and her voice was steadier than I would
have expected.
"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions..." she said.
I looked down at her, frowning. She was stalling, too. "Which one?"
"How does it work-the mind reading thing?" she asked, reiterating her question from the restaurant.
"Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family...?" She trailed
off, flushing again.
"That's more than one," I said.
She just looked at me, waiting for her answers.
And why not tell her? She'd already guessed most of this, and it was an easier subject that the one that
loomed.
"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar
someone's...'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." I tried to
think of a way to describe it so that she would understand. An analogy that she could relate to. "It's a
little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum-a buzzing of
voices in the
background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear. Most of the time I tune it
all out-it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal," -I grimaced- "when I'm not
accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."
"Why do you think you can't hear me?" she wondered.
I gave her another truth and another analogy. "I don't know," I admitted. "The only guess I have is that
maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM
frequency and I'm only getting FM."
I realized that she would not like this analogy. The anticipation of her reaction had me smiling. She
didn't disappoint.
"My mind doesn't work right?" she asked, her voice rising with chagrin. "I'm a freak?"#p#分页标题#e#
Ah, the irony again. "I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak." I laughed.
She understood all the small things, and yet the big ones she got backwards. Always the wrong
instincts...
Bella was gnawing on her lip, and the crease between her eyes was etched deep.
"Don't worry," I reassured her. "It's just a theory..." And there was a more important theory to be
discussed. I was anxious to get it over with. Each passing second was beginning to feel more and more
like borrowed time.
"Which brings us back to you," I said, divided in two, both anxious and reluctant.
She sighed, still chewing her lip-I worried that she would hurt herself. She stared into my eyes, her face
troubled.
"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" I asked quietly.
She looked down, struggling with some internal dilemma. Suddenly, she stiffened and her eyes flew
wide open. Fear flashed across her face for the first time.
"Holy crow!" she gasped.
I panicked. What had she seen? How had I frightened her?
Then she shouted, "Slow down!"
"What's wrong?" I didn't understand where her terror was coming from.
"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" she yelled at me. She flashed a look out the window, and
recoiled from the dark trees racing past us.
This little thing, just a bit of speed, had her shouting in fear? I rolled my eyes. "Relax, Bella."
"Are you trying to kill us?" she demanded, her voice high and tight.
"We're not going to crash," I promised her.
She sucked in a sharp breath, and then spoke in a slightly more level tone. "Why are you in such a
hurry?"
"I always drive like this."
I met her gaze, amused by her shocked expression.
"Keep your eyes on the road!" she shouted.
"I've never been in an accident, Bella. I've never even gotten a ticket." I grinned at her and touched my
forehead. It made it even more comical-the absurdity of being able to joke with her about something so
secret and strange. "Built in radar detector."
"Very funny," she said sarcastically, her voice more frightened than angry.
"Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo
pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."
"Probably," I repeated, and than laughed without humor. Yes, we would fare quite differently in a car