Page 49 of Life and Death

And it hurt—just the idea—more than it should. More than I felt I could stand. I switched gears, skipping on to the next option.

I could do nothing different. After all, if she was something . . . sinister, she’d done nothing too bad so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Taylor’s fender if she hadn’t acted so fast. So fast, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could she be? My head spun in circular questions, no answers.

There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The black-gowned Edythe with the sharp teeth and nails was just the embodiment of the word Jules had said, and not the real Edythe. Even so, when I’d shouted in horror as the werewolf lunged, it wasn’t fear for the wolf that had me screamingNo. It was terror thatshewould be hurt. Even while she was calling to me with sharp-edged fangs, I was afraid forher.

And I knew that 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—ifI knew—what could I do about it? Because when I thought of her, of her voice, her hypnotic eyes, the magnetic way her body pulled mine toward her, all I wanted was to be with her right now. Even if . . . but I didn’t want to think the word again. Not here, in the silent forest. Not while the rain made it dark as dusk under the canopy and made noises like footsteps across the matted ground. I shivered and jumped up, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain.

But it was there, winding its way out of the dripping green gloom. I took longer strides now, and I was surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to see some open spaces through the branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was suddenly free, Charlie’s lawn under my feet.

It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, clean jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn’t take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper onMacbeththat was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft, more relaxed 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 just followed through—relieved that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was mixed with despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.

This decision was almost too easy to live with. Dangerously easy.

The rest of 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 spikes of adrenaline I felt whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I’d felt before I’d taken my walk with Jules. They should be different, but I didn’t know how to make myself feel the right kind of fear.

I slept dreamlessly that night, beat from getting up so early. For the second time since arriving in Forks, I woke to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I staggered to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky. I opened the window—surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, though I hadn’t opened it in who knows how many years—and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm, and hardly windy at all. My blood drummed in my veins.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately.

“Nice day out,” he commented.

“Yeah,” I agreed with a grin.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When he smiled big like that, it was easier to imagine him as the man who had impulsively married a beautiful girl he barely knew when he was only three years older than I was now. There wasn’t much of that guy left. He’d faded over the years, like the curly brown hair that had receded from his forehead.

I ate breakfast with a smile on my face, watching the dust motes stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I’d seen in months.

After a short battle, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn’t even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done, but there were a few Trig problems I wasn’t sure I had right. I took out my book, but halfway through rechecking the first problem my mind was wandering, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched mindlessly along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I realized I’d drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring off the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser.

“Beau!” I heard someone call, and it sounded like McKayla. I looked around to see that the school had filled with kids while I’d been sitting here. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn’t be over sixty. McKayla was coming toward me in a skirt that only reached the middle of her thighs and a tank top.

“Hey, McKayla,” I answered.

She came to sit with me, the sun shimmering off her freshly straightened hair, a grin stretching across her face. She was so happy to see me, I couldn’t help but feel responsive.

“Great day, isn’t it?”

“My kind of day,” I agreed.

“What did you do yesterday?” There was an annoying sense of ownership in her question, and it reminded me of what Jules had said on Saturday. People thought I was her boyfriend because that was what McKayla wanted them to think.

But I was in too good of a mood to let it get to me now. “I mostly worked on my essay.”

“Oh yeah—that’s due Thursday, right?”

“Um, Wednesday, I think.”

“Wednesday?” Her smile disappeared. “That’s not good. I guess I’ll have to get to work on that tonight.” She frowned. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go out.”

“Oh.” I was thrown. Why couldn’t I ever have a conversation with McKayla anymore without it getting awkward?

“Well, we still could go to dinner or something . . . and I could work on it later.” She smiled at me hopefully.

“McKayla . . .”Here comes the guilt, I thought. “I don’t think that would be the best idea.”

Her face fell. “Why?” she asked, her eyes guarded. My thoughts flashed to Edythe, and I wondered if McKayla was thinking the same thing.