I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edward was striding past the front counter toward the nurse’s door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Edward swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited.

“She’s just a little faint,” he reassured the startled nurse. “They’re blood typing in Biology.”

The nurse nodded sagely. “There’s always 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 assured authority that — even though she pursed her lips — the nurse didn’t argue it further.

“I’ll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear,” she said to me, and then 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. His tone made it sound like he was confessing a humiliating weakness. “I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods.”

“Ha ha.” I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute.

“Honestly — I’ve seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder.”

“Poor Mike. I’ll bet he’s mad.”

“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 you were ditching.” I was almost fine now, though the queasiness would probably pass faster if I’d eaten something for 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 — it surprised me.

I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.

“Here you go, dear.” She laid it across my forehead. “You’re looking better,” she added.

“I think I’m fine,” I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, 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 opened just 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 need this.”

And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edward and I drew back against 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 the infirmary. 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 from watching 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 to Edward. The look he gave Edward confirmed what Edward had said about loathing. He looked back at 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 to class?”

“Are you kidding? I’d just have to turn around and come back.”

“Yeah, I guess. . . . So are you going this weekend? To the beach?” While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Edward, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

I tried to sound as friendly as possible. “Sure, I said I was in.”

“We’re meeting at my dad’s store, at ten.” His eyes flickered to Edward again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language 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 face slightly pouting, and then as he walked slowly through the door, his shoulders slumped. A swell of sympathy washed over me. I pondered seeing his disappointed face again . . . in Gym.

“Gym,” I groaned.

“I can take care of that.” I hadn’t noticed Edward moving to my side, but he spoke now in my ear. “Go sit down and look pale,” he muttered.

That wasn’t a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent swoon had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells 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 think you could excuse her from class?” His voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more overwhelming his eyes would be.

“Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?” Ms. Cope fluttered. Why couldn’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 to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.

“I’ll walk.”

I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his smile polite but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice — the first time I’d enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky — as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.

“Thanks,” I said as he followed me out. “It’s almost worth getting sick to miss Gym.”

“Anytime.” He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

“So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?” I was hoping he would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn’t picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn’t belong in the same world. But just hoping that he might gave me the first twinge of enthusiasm I’d felt for 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. “I really don’t think I was invited.”

I sighed. “I just invited you.”

“Let’s you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don’t want him to snap.” His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he should.

“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 a fistful of my jacket in one hand.

I was confused. “I’m going home.”

“Didn’t you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?” 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 toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward. He’d probably just drag me along anyway if I did.

“Let go!” I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me — I stumbled 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 the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I’d never put my hood up, so my hair 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 my chances of reaching the truck 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. I wasn’t very successful — I looked like a half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked.

“This is completely unnecessary,” I said stiffly.

He didn’t answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the silent treatment — my face in full pout mode — but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.

“Clair de Lune?” I asked, surprised.

“You know Debussy?” He sounded surprised, too.

“Not well,” I admitted. “My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house — I only know my favorites.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too.” He stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn’t feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it 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 raised his eyebrows. “I have too much Charlie in me. She’s more outgoing than I am, and braver. She’s irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she’s a very unpredictable cook. She’s my best friend.” I stopped. Talking about her was making me depressed.

“How old are you, Bella?” His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn’t imagine. He’d stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie’s house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the 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 get more middle-aged every year.” I laughed, and then sighed. “Well, someone has to be the adult.” I paused for a second. “You don’t seem much like a junior 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 would remember the name; I’d mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.

“My mother . . . she’s very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she’s crazy about him.” I shook my head. The attraction 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 she wants.”

“That’s very generous. . . . I wonder,” he mused.

“What?”

“Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?” He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine.

“I-I think so,” I stuttered. “But she’s the parent, after all. It’s a little bit different.”

“No one too scary then,” he teased.

I grinned in response. “What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?”

“That’s one definition, I suppose.”

“What’s your definition?”

But he ignored my question and asked me another. “Do you think that I could be scary?” He raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face.

I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. I decided to go with the truth. “Hmmm . . . I think you could be, if you wanted to.”

“Are you frightened of me now?” The smile vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.

“No.” But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.

“So, now are you going to tell me about your family?” I asked to distract him. “It’s got to be a much more interesting story than mine.”

He was instantly cautious. “What do you want to know?”

“The Cullens adopted you?” 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 have been my parents for a long time now.”

“And you love them.” It wasn’t a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of them.

“Yes.” He smiled. “I couldn’t imagine two better people.”

“You’re very lucky.”

“I know I am.”

“And your brother and sister?”

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

“My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me.”

“Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go.” I didn’t want to get out of the car.

“And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don’t have to tell him about the Biology incident.” He grinned at me.

“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 at the sheeting rain.

“Won’t I see you tomorrow?”

“No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early.”

“What are you going to do?” A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn’t too apparent in my voice.

“We’re going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.”

I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.

“Oh, well, have fun.” I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don’t think I fooled him, though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.

“Will you do something for me this weekend?” He turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes.

I nodded helplessly.

“Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So . . . try not to fall into the ocean or get 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. I slammed the door behind me with excessive force.

He was still smiling as he drove away.