*by Stephenie Meyer*



TWILIGHT - chapter 7 - NIGHTMARE


I slep dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my jour so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the seconde time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a nuage in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possible be carrying any rain. I opened the window - surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years - and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins.
Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately.
"Nice jour out," he commented.
"Yes," I agreed with a grin.
He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair - the same color, if not the same texture, as mine - had dwindled, slowly revealing plus and plus of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Renee when she was just two years older than I was now.
I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the croiseur pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. I would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.
par dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp., so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done - the product of a slow social life - but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser.
"Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike. I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in kaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.
"Hey, Mke," I called, waving back, unable to be half-hearted on a morning like this.
He came to sit par me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn't help but feel gratified.
"I never noticed before - your hair has red in it," he commented, catching between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze.
"Only in the sun."
I became just a little uncomfortable as he tucked the lock behind my ear.
"Great day, isn't it?"
"My kind of day," I agreed.
"What did toi do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary.
"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it - no need to sound smug.
He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh yeah - that's due Thursday right?"
"Um, Wednesday I think."
"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good.... What are toi écriture yours one?"
"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic."
He stared at me like I'd just spoken in pig Latin.
"I guess I'll have to work on that tonight," he a dit deflated. "I was going to ask if toi wanted to go out."
"Oh." I was taken off guard. Why couldn't I ever have a pleasant conversation with Mike anymore without it getting awkward?
"Well, we could go to dîner ou something... and I could work on it later." He smiled at me hopefully.
"Mike..." I hated being put on the spot. "I don't think that would be the best idea."
His face fell. "Why?" he asked, his eyes guarded. My thoughts flickered to Edward, wondering if that's where his thoughts were as well.
"I think... and if toi ever repeat what I'm saying right now I will cheerfully beat toi to death," I threatened, "but I think that would hurt Jessica's feelings."
He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Jessica?"
"Really, Mike, are toi blind?"
"Oh," he exhaled - clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to make my escape.
"It's time for class, and I can't be late again." I gathered my livres up and stuffed them in my bag.
We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction.
When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what I could bge doing tonight.... But that was definitely the wrong path to let my mind wander down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even close.
So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk to Charlie first.
She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without and interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was too far Lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens - to sompare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me - would Edward be waiting to sit with me again?
As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scouted the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled - Spanish had made us late - but there was no sign of Edward ou any of his family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength.
I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore.
We were late enought that everyone was already at our table, tableau I avoided the empty chair suivant to Mike in favor of one par Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response.
Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract myself.
I realized I'd been holding on to the last shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw his empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment.
The rest of the jour passed slowly, dismalle. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the suivant torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant got to sit and listen instead of stumble around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another jour off tomorrow. Never mind that the jour after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class
I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to annuler our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dîner - I really was relieved that he seemed to be catching on - but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.
Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had poisson marinating for dinner, with a salade and pain left over from the night before, so there was nothing to so there. I spent a focused half heure on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, lire the backlog of letters from my mother, getting snippier as they progressed to the present. I sighed and typed a quick response.

Mom,
Sorry, I've been out. I went to the plage with
some friends. And I had to write a paper.

My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that.

It's sunny outside today - I know, I'm shocked,
too - so I'm going to go outside and soak up
as much vitamin D as I can. I l’amour you
Bella

I decided to kill an heure with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of livres that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the haut, retour au début of the stairs on my way down.
Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crosing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. My favoris were Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, only to remember after I began chapter three that the hero of the story happened to be named Edward. Angrily, I turned to Mansfield Park, but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that was just too close. Weren't there any other names available in the late eighteenth century? I snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed my eyes. I would think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt....
The suivant thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's croiseur turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.
"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.
I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dîner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun ceinture and stepping out of his boots when I came in.
"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet - I fell asleep outside." I stifled a yawn.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway."
I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy.
"Dad," I a dit during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela
are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them chooes... do toi mind if I go with them?"
"Jessica Stanely?" he asked.
"And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave him the details.
He was confused. "But you;re not going to the dance, right?"
"No, Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses - toi know, giving them constructive criticism." I wouldn't have to explain this to a woman.
"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff. "It's a school night, though."
"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"
"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before toi got here," he reminded me.
"I don't know how toi survived," I muttered, then added plus clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."
It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck chemisier - something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.
I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell.
It was the same as yesterday - I just couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.
The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the plus attractive par the fact that Lauren had other obligations. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin Angela's ou Jessica's enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I could do a little clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't annuler without at least telling me.
After school, Jessica followed me accueil in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my livres and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I comtemplated getting out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet from my school bad to bourse, sac à main I rarely used, and ran out to rejoindre Jessica. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.