Twilight by Stephenie Meyer | Page 8

from Eve.
I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again,
his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair,
the phra seif looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.
At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of
his seat. Fluidly he rose � he was much taller than I'd thought � his back to me, and he
was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.
I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began
gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes
would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually
cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.
"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.
I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into
orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.
"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.
"I'm Mike."
"Hi, Mike."
"Do you need any help finding your next class?"
"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."
"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a
coincidence in a school this small.
We walked to class together; he was a chatterer � he supplied most of the
conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he
knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the
nicest person I'd met today.
But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a
pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."
I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't
Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.
"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.
"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."
"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."
"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I
were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."
I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and
clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.
The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for
today's class. At home, only two years of RE. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory
all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.
I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many
injuries I had sustained � and inflicted � playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.
The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The
rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around
myself.
When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.
Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze
hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back
wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.
He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the
argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time � any other
time.
I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something
that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been
about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a
sudden, intense dislike to me.
The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling
the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely
stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward
Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me � his face was absurdly
handsome � with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear,
raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than
the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.
"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible.
Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me,
and disappeared out the door.
I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the
signed slip.
"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.
"Fine," I