Twilight by Stephenie Meyer | Page 7

in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like
me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."
I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were
outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly
not the most interesting by any standard.
As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this
time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me
that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.
"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at him from the
corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students
had today � he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.
"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date.
Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, a clear
case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down.
I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away,
but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.
After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were
noticeably graceful � even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one
named Edward didn't look at me again.
I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting
alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new
acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II
with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too.
When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly
like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled
but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting
next to that single open seat.
As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I
was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He
stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face � it was
hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book
in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there
giggled.
I'd noticed that his eyes were black � coal black.
Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about
introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to
send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to
sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me.
I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture
change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme
edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I
sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed
an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain
between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.
Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took
notes carefully anyway, always looking down.
I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the
strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the
edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg
was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never
relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his
forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as
slight as he'd looked next to his burly brother.
The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally
coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he
continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him?
Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch
today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.
It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me