the ferns and sat carefully； making sure my jacket was between the damp
seat and my clothes wherever they touched； and leaned my hooded head back
against the living tree。
This was the wrong place to have e。 I should have known； but where
else was there to go？ The forest was deep green and far too much like the
scene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind。 Now that there
was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps； the silence was piercing。
The birds were quiet； too； the drops increasing in frequency； so it must
be raining above。 The ferns stood higher than my head； now that I was
seated； and I knew someone could walk by on the path； three feet away；
and not see me。
Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurdities that
embarrassed me indoors。 Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands
of years； and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands
seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clearcut
bedroom。
I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer；
but I did so unwillingly。
First； I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about
the Cullens could be true。
Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative。 It was silly
and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions。 But what； then？ I asked
myself。 There was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this
moment。 I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself： the
impossible speed and strength； the eye color shifting from black to gold
and back again； the inhuman beauty； the pale； frigid skin。 And more —
small things that registered slowly — how they never seemed to eat； the
disturbing grace with which they moved。 And the way be
sometimes spoke； with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the
style of a turnofthecentury novel than that of a twentyfirstcentury
classroom。 He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing。 He hadn't
said no to the beach trip till he heard where we were going。 He seemed to
know what everyone around him was thinking… except me。 He had told me he
was the villain； dangerous…
Could the Cullens be vampires？
Well； they were something。 Something outside the possibility of rational
justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes。 Whether
it be Jacob's cold ones or my own superhero theory； Edward Cullen was
not… human。 He was something more。
So then — maybe。 That would have to be my answer for now。
And then the most important question of all。 What was I going to do if it
was true？
If Edward was a vampire — I could hardly make myself think the words —
then what should I do？ Involving someone else was definitely out。 I
couldn't even believe myself； anyone I told would have me mitted。
Only two options seemed practical。 The first was to take his advice： to
be smart； to avoid him as much as possible。 To cancel our plans； to go
back to ignoring him as far as I was able。 To pretend there was an
imperably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were
forced together。 To tell him to leave me alone — and mean it this time。
I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I considered that
alternative。 My mind rejected the pain； quickly skipping on to the next
option。
I could do nothing different。 After all； if he was something… sinister；
he'd done nothing to hurt me so far。 In fact； I would be a dent in
Tyler's fender if he hadn't acted so quickly。 So quickly； I argued with
myself； that it might have been sheer reflexes。 But if it was a reflex to
save lives； how bad could he be？ I retorted。 My head spun around in
answerless circles。
There was one thing I was sure of； if I was sure of anything。 The dark
Edward in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the
word Jacob had spoken； and not Edward himself。 Even so； when I'd screamed
out in terror at the werewolf's lunge； it wasn't fear for the wolf that
brought the cry of 〃no〃 to my lips。 It was fear that he would be harmed —
even as he called to me with sharpedged fangs； I feared for him。
And I knew in that I had my answer。 I didn't know if there ever was a
choice； really。 I was already in too deep。 Now that I knew — if I knew —
I could do nothing about my frightening secret。 Because when I thought of
him； of his voice； his hypnotic eyes； the magic force of his
personality； I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now。 Even
if… but I couldn't think it。 Not here； alone in the darkening forest。 Not
while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like
footsteps across the matted earthen floor。 I shivered and rose quickly
from my place of concealment； worried that somehow the path would have
disappeared with the rain。
But it was there； safe and clear； winding its way out of the dripping
green maze。 I followed it hastily； my hood pulled close around my face；
being surprised； as I nearly ran through the trees； at how far I had
e。 I started to wonder if I was heading out at all； or following the
path farther into the confines of the forest。 Before I could get too
panicky； though； I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed
branches。 And then I could hear a car passing on the street； and I was
free； Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me； the house beckoning
me； promising warmth and dry socks。
It was just noon when I got back inside。 I went upstairs and got dressed
for the day； jeans and a tshirt； since I was staying indoors。 It didn't
take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day； a paper on
Macbeth that was due Wednesday。 I settled into outlining a rough draft
contentedly； more serene than I'd felt since… well； since Thursday
afternoon； if I was being honest。
That had always been my way； though。 Making decisions was the painful
part for me； the part I agonized over。 But once the decision was made； I
simply followed through — usually with relief that the choice was made。
Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair； like my decision to e to
Forks。 But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives。
This decision was ridiculously easy to live with。 Dangerously easy。
And so the day was quiet； productive — I finished my paper before eight。
Charlie came home with a large catch； and I made a mental note to pick up
a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week。 The chills
that flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no
different than the ones I'd felt before I'd taken my walk with Jacob
Black。 They should be different； I thought。 I should be afraid — I knew I
should be； but I couldn't feel the right kind of fear。
I slept dreamlessly that night； exhausted from beginning my day so early；
and sleeping so poorly the night before。 I woke； for the second 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 cloud in
the sky； and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that
couldn't possibly be carrying any