standards.
We got to the door of her class-where I would have to leave her; I wondered idly if Ms. Cope would be
more accommodating about a switch in the schedule of my English class... I made myself focus. I could
be fair.
"She wants to know if we're secretly dating," I said slowly. "And she wants to know how you feel about
me."
Her eyes were wide-not startled, but ingenious now. They were open to me, readable. She was playing
innocent.
"Yikes," she murmured. "What should I say?"
"Hmmm." She always tried to make me give away more than she did. I pondered how to respond.
A wayward strand of her hair, slightly damp from the fog, draped across her shoulder and curled around
where her collar bone was hidden by the ridiculous sweater. It drew my eyes...pulled them across the
other hidden lines...
I reached for it carefully, not touching her skin-the morning was chill enough without my touch-and
twisted it back into place in her untidy bun so that it wouldn't distract me again. I remembered when
Mike Newton had touched her hair, and my jaw flexed at the memory. She had flinched away from him
then. Her reaction now was nothing the same; instead, there was a slight widening of her eyes, a rush of
blood under her skin, and a sudden, uneven thumping of her heart.
I tried to hide my smile as I answered her question.
"I suppose you could say yes to the first...if you don't mind-," her choice, always her choice, "-it's easier
than any other explanation."
"I don't mind," she whispered. Her heart had not found its normal rhythm yet.
"And as for her other question..." I couldn't hide my smile now. "Well, I'll be listening to hear the answer
to that one myself."
Let Bella consider that. I held back my laugh as shock crossed her face.
I turned quickly, before she could ask for any more answers. I had a difficult time not giving her
whatever she asked for. And I wanted to hear her thoughts, not mine.
"I'll see you at lunch," I called back to her over my shoulder, an excuse to check that she was still staring
after me, wide-eyed. Her mouth was hanging open. I turned away again, and laughed.
As I paced away, I was vaguely aware of the shocked and speculative thoughts that swirled around meeyes
bouncing back and forth between Bella's face and my retreating figure. I paid them little attention.
I couldn't concentrate. It was hard enough to keep my feet moving at an acceptable speed as I crossed
the soggy grass to my next class. I wanted to run-really run, so fast that I would disappear, so fast that it
would feel like I was flying. Part of me was flying already.
I put the jacket on when I got to class, letting her fragrance swim thick around me. I would burn now-let
the scent desensitize me-and then it would be easier to ignore it later, when I was with her again at
lunch...
It was a good thing that my teachers no longer bothered to call on me. Today might have been the day
that they would have caught me out, unprepared and answerless. My mind was in so many places this
morning; only my body was in the classroom.
Of course I was watching Bella. That was becoming natural-as automatic as breathing. I heard her
conversation with a demoralized Mike Newton. She quickly directed the conversation to Jessica, and I
grinned so wide that Rob Sawyer, who sat at the desk to my right, flinched visibly and slid deeper into
his seat, away from me.
Ugh. Creepy.
Well, I hadn't lost it entirely.
I was also monitoring Jessica loosely, watching her refine her questions for Bella. I could barely wait for
fourth period, ten times as eager and anxious as the curious human girl who wanted fresh gossip.
And I was also listening to Angela Weber.
I had not forgotten the gratitude I felt to her-for thinking nothing but kind things toward Bella in the first
place, and then for her help last night. So I waited through the morning, looking for something that she
wanted. I assumed it would be an easy; like any other human, there must be some bauble or toy she
wanted particularly. Several, probably. I would deliver something anonymously and call us even.
But Angela proved almost as unaccommodating as Bella with her thoughts. She was oddly content for a
teenager. Happy. Perhaps this was the reason for her unusual kindness-she was one of those rare
people who had what they wanted and wanted what they had. If she wasn't paying attention to her
teachers and her notes, she was thinking of the twin little brothers she was taking to the beach this
weekend-anticipating their excitement with an almost maternal pleasure. She cared for them often, but
was not resentful of this fact... It was very sweet.
But not really helpful to me.
There had to be something she wanted. I would just have to keep looking. But later. It was time for
Bella's trig class with Jessica.
I wasn't watching where I was going as I made my way to English. Jessica was already in her seat, both