"Hey, Renesmee, wait up!"
I didn't have to turn to know the voice. It was Mrs. Malagwa, my art teacher, the only person at Brenton who insisted on calling me 'Renesmee.'
I turned and smiled at her. "Is there a problem, Mrs. Malagwa?"
"No, no problem." she panted, out of breath, though she'd only jogged a few steps. I waited for her to continue. "The Valentine's jour Dance is coming up," she said. "And toi have such artistic ability. We need plus members on the Decorating Comittee." she held up a sheet that was half filled with signatures.
Ah, the dance. I was trying to surpress all thoughts of Valentine's Day, but the thoughts were creeping in now.
Mrs. Malagwa was still speaking. "...artistic ability," she was saying. "And toi could do a really good job as a decorator. toi know most of the kids, I think..." she looked at me hopefully. "Sure, I'll do it," I told her. I took the pen and made a big production of signing it 'Nessie.' "Thank-you, Renesmee!" she gushed immediately. Well, so much for that production. "It's no problem, Mrs. Malagwa. See toi tomorrow." I waved and started back towards my dorm.
I had almost forgotten about Valentine's Day, but now that I had been reminded, what I really wanted to do was avoid all civilization on Saturday. It was almost too much to see other Brenton students go walking around hand-in-hand, s’embrasser each other.
I hadn't had much time to think about Jacob recently. Homework, teachers, and now the dance were making it impossible. I still loved the learning experiance, though. I could speak almost fluently in French and Latin and was getting straight A's in History. I was doing good in all other classes as well, but I didn't feel so strongly about them.
Ashlie and Libby both had activities after school for a few hours, so this left time for me to think alone without interruption.
I still wasn't sure how I felt. I didn't want to call, afraid that he'd misinterpret my reason for calling, only to be disappointed when I didn't tell him how I felt. But it was a very strange feeling, being away from him for so long. I could almost feel a magnetic pull between here and Washington; feel it pulling me towards him, begging me to go back, so much easier than resisting. But my first semester wasn't even done. I wondered if he felt the same pull, ou if I was paranoid. Did he miss me?
And then the dreaded dance was tomorrow. I obviously didn't have a date, and wasn't planning on it either. I had been asked, sure, but no one I especially desired was here.
I pulled out a small scrapbook of photos I had brought along and looked at them. There was my mom and dad, Aunt Alice, Aunt Rosalie, Grandma, and Grandpa, and others. Jacob's eyes stared warmly at me from the photo, his face bright and happy, the opposite of that jour at the airport.
And suddenly....everything fell into place. I knew those eyes. Those eyes full of easy-to-read secrets. Dark and shady, but still crystal clear. Right now, smiling at me from the picture, Jacob's eyes said, I l’amour you, Renesmee! Don't toi see that? I've loved toi for a long time. Don't toi l’amour me? Tell me toi do!
How could I have been so blind? How had I not realized? I wondered how stupid I really was. Despire my straight A's, I couldn't even figure out I was in love???
I could barely think the words, let alone say them. I l’amour you, too, I thought a few minutes later. It felt so strange to think, though I knew it was true. I was getting a warm, tingly feeling all over as if Jacob was standing right there. This was much different then saying I loved mom ou dad ou Grandma. I loved Jacob, a boy I had known my whole life, though I had never known him until this minute. His eyes, clear deep, were somehow unsatisfied before, but now were as happy as the smile on his face. He was not just 'Jacob.'
He was my Jacob.
