Page 23 of Life and Death

Edythe was staring straight at me, that familiar expression of frustration even more obvious now in her black eyes.

I stared back, surprised, expecting her to look away. She didn’t. Her eyes kept boring into mine, like she was trying to find something really important inside them. I continued to stare also, totally unable to break the connection, even if I wanted to. My hands started to shake.

“Miss Cullen?” the teacher called, looking for the answer to some question I hadn’t heard.

“The Krebs Cycle,” Edythe answered, seeming reluctant as she turned to look at Mrs. Banner.

I put my head down, pretending to stare at my book, as soon as her eyes released me. It bothered me—the rush of emotion pulsing through me, just because she’d happened to look at me for the first time in six weeks. It wasn’t normal. It was actually pretty pathetic, and probably more than that. Unhealthy.

I tried hard not to be aware of her for the rest of the class, or, since that was impossible, at least not to let her know that I was aware of her. When the bell finally rang, I turned away from her to stack up my books, expecting her to rush out as usual.

“Beau?”

Her voice shouldn’t sound so familiar, like I’d been hearing it all my life instead of just an hour here and there a few weeks ago.

I turned slowly toward her, not wanting to feel what I knew Iwouldfeel when I looked at her too-perfect face. I’m sure my expression was guarded; hers was unreadable. She didn’t say anything.

“Yes?” I asked.

She just looked at me.

“So . . . um, are you . . . or are you not talking to me again?”

“Not,” she said, but her lips curled up into a smile, her dimples flashing.

“Okay . . .” I looked away—down at my hands, then over toward the chalkboard. It was hard to concentrate when I looked at her, and this conversation wasn’t making much sense.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and there was no joke in her voice now. “I’m being very rude, I know. But it’s better this way, really.”

I looked at her again; her expression was totally serious now.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s better if we’re not friends,” she explained. “Trust me.”

My eyes narrowed. I’d heard that one before.

She seemed surprised by my reaction. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I guess . . . that it’s too bad you didn’t figure this out earlier, saved yourself the regret.”

“Regret?” My answer seemed to have caught her off guard. “Regret for what?”

“For not letting Taylor’s van crush me when it had the chance.”

She looked completely shocked. She stared at me for a minute, wide-eyed, and when she finally spoke she almost sounded mad.

“You think I regret saving your life?” The words were quiet, just under her breath, but still pretty intense.

I glanced quickly toward the front of the room, where a couple of kids were still lingering. I caught one of them looking at us. He looked away and I turned back to Edythe.

“Yeah,” I said, just as quietly. “I mean, what else? Seems kind of obvious.”

She made the strangest sound—she exhaled through her teeth and it was like ahiss. She still looked mad.

“You’re an idiot,” she told me.

Well, that was my limit.