Something Charlie was saying made Edward's eyes widen in disbelief, and then a grin spread across his face.
"You're kidding!" He laughed.
"What is it?" I demanded.
He ignored me. "Why don't you let me talk to him?" Edward suggested with evident pleasure. He waited for a few seconds.
"Hello, Tyler, this is Edward Cullen." His voice was very friendly, on the surface. I knew it well enough to catch the soft edge of menace. What was Tyler doing at my house? The awful truth began to dawn on me. I looked again at the inappropriate dress Alice had forced me into.
"I'm sorry if there's been some kind of miscommunication, but Bella is unavailable tonight." Edward's tone changed, and the threat in his voice was suddenly much more evident as he continued. "To be perfectly honest, she'll be unavailable every night, as far as anyone besides myself is concerned. No offense. And I'm sorry about your evening." He didn't sound sorry at all. And then he snapped the phone shut, a huge smirk on his face.
My face and neck flushed crimson with anger. I could feel the rage-induced tears starting to fill my eyes.
He looked at me in surprise. "Was that last part a bit too much? I didn't mean to offend you."
I ignored that.
"You're taking me to the prom!" I yelled.
It was embarrassingly obvious now. If I'd been paying any attention at all, I'm sure I would have noticed the date on the posters that decorated the school buildings. But I'd never dreamed he was thinking of subjecting me to this. Didn't he know me at all?
He wasn't expecting the force of my reaction, that was clear. He pressed his lips together and his eyes narrowed. "Don't be difficult, Bella."
My eyes flashed to the window; we were halfway to the school already.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I demanded in horror.
He gestured to his tuxedo. "Honestly, Bella, what did you think we were doing?"
I was mortified. First, because I'd missed the obvious. And also because the vague suspicions-expectations, really-that I'd been forming all day, as Alice tried to transform me into a beauty queen, were so far wide of the mark. My half-fearful hopes seemed very silly now.
I'd guessed there was some kind of occasion brewing. But prom! That was the furthest thing from my mind.
The angry tears rolled over my cheeks. I remembered with dismay that I was very uncharacteristically wearing mascara. I wiped quickly under my eyes to prevent any smudges. My hand was unblackened when I pulled it away; maybe Alice had known I would need waterproof makeup.
"This is completely ridiculous. Why are you crying?" he demanded in frustration.
"Because I'm mad!"
"Bella." He turned the full force of his scorching golden eyes on me.
"What?" I muttered, distracted.
"Humor me," he insisted.
His eyes were melting all my fury. It was impossible to fight with him when he cheated like that. I gave in with poor grace.
"Fine," I pouted, unable to glare as effectively as I would have liked. "I'll go quietly. But you'll see. I'm way overdue for more bad luck. I'll probably break my other leg. Look at this shoe! It's a death trap!" I held out my good leg as evidence.
"Hmmm." He stared at my leg longer than was necessary. "Remind me to thank Alice for that tonight."
"Alice is going to be there?" That comforted me slightly.
"With Jasper, and Emmett . . . and Rosalie," he admitted.
The feeling of comfort disappeared. There had been no progress with Rosalie, though I was on quite good terms with her sometimes-husband. Emmett enjoyed having me around-he thought my bizarre human reactions were hilarious . . . or maybe it was just the fact that I fell down a lot that he found so funny. Rosalie acted as if I didn't exist. While I shook my head to dispel the direction my thoughts had taken, I thought of something else.
"Is Charlie in on this?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.
"Of course." He grinned, and then chuckled. "Apparently Tyler wasn't, though."
I gritted my teeth. How Tyler could be so delusional, I couldn't imagine. At school, where Charlie couldn't interfere, Edward and I were inseparable-except for those rare sunny days.
We were at the school now; Rosalie's red convertible was conspicuous in the parking lot. The clouds were thin today, a few streaks of sunlight escaping through far away in the west.
He got out and walked around the car to open my door. He held out his hand.
I sat stubbornly in my seat, arms folded, feeling a secret twinge of smugness. The lot was crowded with people in formal dress: witnesses. He couldn't remove me forcibly from the car as he might have if we'd been alone.
He sighed. "When someone wants to kill you, you're brave as a lion-and then when someone mentions dancing . . ." He shook his head.