twi saga | Page 9

surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he
suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me ag ain, meeting my eyes
with the strangest expression on his face — it was h ostile, furious. I
looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I st umbled 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 sea t 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. H e was leaning away
from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair a nd averting his face
like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I s niffed 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, alw ays looking down.
I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally th rough the screen of
my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the w hole 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 w as 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 u p to his elbows, and
his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular bene ath his light skin.
He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to h is 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 s o 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 bit terness at lunch
today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd though t.
It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me 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 phrase if looks could kill
suddenly ran through my mind.
At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jum p, 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 u p. 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 frie ndly 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 fin d it."
"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, th ough 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 l ived in California till
he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out