Page 39 of Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined (The Twilight Saga)

“I’ll come to your place, also as usual.”

“Um, it doesn’t help with the Charlie situation if an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway.”

Her smile was superior now. “I wasn’t intending to bring a car.”

“How—”

She cut me off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there, no car. No chance that Charlie will see anything out of the ordinary.” Her voice turned hard. “And then, if you don’t come home, it will be a complete mystery, won’t it?”

“Guess so,” I said, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll get on the news and everything.”

She scowled at me and I ignored it, chewing another bite of my lunch.

When her face finally relaxed—though she still didn’t look happy—I asked, “What are you hunting tonight?”

“Whatever we find in the park. We aren’t going far.” She stared at me, a little frustrated and a little amused by my casual reference to her unusual life.

“Why are you going with Archie? Didn’t you say he was being annoying?”

She frowned. “He’s still the most . . . supportive.”

“And the rest of them?” I asked hesitantly, not sure I really wanted to know. “What are they?”

Her brow puckered. “Incredulous, for the most part.”

I glanced toward them. They sat staring off in different directions, exactly the same as the first time I’d seen them. Only now there were just the four of them; their perfect, bronze-haired sister was mine, for this hour at least.

“They don’t like me,” I guessed.

“That’s not it,” she disagreed, but her eyes were too innocent. “They don’t understand why I can’t leave you alone.”

I frowned. “Me, either.”

She smiled. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known, Beau. You fascinate me.”

Part of me was sure she was making fun of me—the part that couldn’t escape the fact that I was the most boring person I knew. “I can’t understand that,” I said.

“Having the advantages I do,” she murmured, touching one finger to her forehead, “I have a better-than-average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you . . . you never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise.”

I looked away, my eyes hitting their default position—the back corner of the cafeteria where her family sat. Her words made me feel like a science experiment. I wanted to laugh at myself for expecting anything else.

“That part is easy enough to explain.” I felt her eyes on my face, but I couldn’t look at her yet. I was sure she would see the self-contempt in my eyes. “But there’s more,” she went on, “and it’s not so easy to put into words—”

I was still staring absently at the Cullens while she spoke.

Suddenly Royal turned his head to look directly at me.

Not to look—to glare, with dark, cold eyes.

I wanted to look away, but I was frozen by his overt antagonism until Edythe broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under her breath—a kind of hiss.

Royal turned his head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Edythe, my eyes wide.

“That was definitely dislike,” I muttered.

Her expression was pained. “I’m sorry about that. He’s just worried. You see . . . it’s dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly . . .” She looked down.

“If?”

“If this ends . . . badly.” She dropped her head into her hands, obviously in anguish.

I wanted to comfort her somehow, to tell her that nothing bad would ever happen to her, but I didn’t know the right words.

Automatically, I reached out to place my hand lightly against her elbow.

She was wearing just a long-sleeved t-shirt, and the cold soaked through to my hand immediately.

She didn’t move, and as I sat there I slowly realized that what she’d said should frighten me.

I waited for that fear to come, but all I could feel was an ache for her pain.

She still had her face in her hands.

I tried to speak in a normal voice. “And you have to leave now?”

“Yes.” She let her hands drop. I kept my hand against her forearm.

She looked at the place where we were connected, and she sighed.

Suddenly her mood shifted and she grinned.

“It’s probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology—I don’t think I could take any more. ”

I jumped, yanking my hand back. Archie—taller than I’d thought, his hair just a shadow of dark stubble against his scalp, his eyes dark as ink—was suddenly standing behind Edythe’s shoulder.

Edythe greeted him without looking away from me. “Archie.”

“Edythe,” he answered, imitating her tone with a mocking twist. His voice was a soft tenor, velvety like hers.

“Archie, Beau—Beau, Archie,” she introduced us, a wry smile on her face.

“Hello, Beau.” His eyes glittered like black diamonds, but his smile was friendly. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Just the lightest stress on the finally .

Edythe flashed a dark look at him.

It was not hard for me to believe that Archie was a vampire. Standing two feet away from me. With dark, hungry eyes. I felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck.

“Um, hey, Archie.”

“Are you ready?” he asked her.

Her voice was cold. “Nearly. I’ll meet you at the car.”

He left without another word; the way he moved was so fluid, so sinuous, it made me think of dancers again, though it wasn’t really that human.

I swallowed. “Should I say ‘ have fun,’ or is that the wrong sentiment?”

“ ‘ Have fun’ works as well as anything.” She grinned.

“Have fun, then.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but of course she wasn’t fooled.

“I’ll try. And you try to be safe, please.”

I sighed. “Safe in Forks—what a challenge.”

Her jaw tightened. “For you it is a challenge. Promise.”

“I promise to try to be safe,” I recited. “I was meaning to deal with the laundry . . . or is that too hazardous a task? I mean, I could fall in or something.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do my best.”

She stood, and I rose, too.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I sighed.

She smiled a wistful smile. “It seems like a long time to you, doesn’t it?”

I nodded glumly.

“I’ll be there in the morning,” she promised, and then she walked to my side, touched the back of my hand lightly, and turned to walk away. I stared after her until she was gone.

I really did not want to go to class, and I thought about a little healthy ditching, but I decided it would be irresponsible.

I knew that if I disappeared now, McKayla and the others would assume I’d gone with Edythe.

And Edythe was worried about the time we’d spent together publicly .

. . if things went wrong. I wasn’t going to think about what that would mean, or how painful it might be.

I just worked out the ways I could make things safer for her. Which meant going to class.

I felt certain—and I thought she did, too—that tomorrow would change everything for us.

She and I . . . if we were going to be together, we had to face this square on.

We couldn’t keep trying to balance on this precarious edge of almost-together.

We would fall to one side or the other, and it all depended on her.

I was all in, before I’d even consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing this through.

Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more painful, than the idea of never seeing her again.

It didn’t help my concentration so much that she wasn’t next to me in Biology. The tension and electricity were gone, but my mind was too wrapped around the idea of tomorrow to pay attention.

In Gym, McKayla seemed to have forgiven me. She said she hoped I had a good time in Seattle. I carefully explained that I’d canceled the trip due to truck issues.

She was suddenly sulky again. “Are you taking Edythe to the dance?”

“No. I told you I wasn’t going.”

“What are you doing, then?”

I lied cheerfully. “Laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I’m going to fail.”

She frowned. “Is Edythe helping you ‘study’?”

I could hear the quotation marks she put around the last word.

“Don’t I wish,” I said, smiling. “She’s so much smarter than I am. But she’s gone away somewhere with her brother for the weekend.” It was funny how much easier than usual the lies were coming. Maybe because I was lying for someone else, and not for myself.

McKayla perked up. “Oh. You know, you could still come to the dance with us all. That would be cool. We’d all dance with you,” she promised.

The mental image of Jeremy’s face made my tone sharper than necessary.

“I’m not going to the dance, McKayla, okay?”

“Fine,” she snapped. “I was just offering.”

When Gym was finally over, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm. I wasn’t looking forward to walking home in the rain, but I couldn’t think of how she would have been able to get my truck. Then again, was anything impossible for her?

And there it was—parked in the same spot where she’d parked the Volvo this morning. I shook my head, amazed, as I opened the door and found the key in the ignition as promised.

There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I opened it. Two words were written in her fancy calligraphy handwriting.

Be safe.

The sound of the truck roaring to life startled me, and I laughed at myself.

When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the deadbolt unlocked, just as I’d left it this morning.

Inside, I went straight to the laundry room.

It looked just the same as I’d left it, too.

I dug for my jeans and, after finding them, checked the pockets.

Empty. Maybe I’d hung my key up after all, I thought, shaking my head.

Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying his lasagna—it was hard to tell with Charlie.

“You know, Dad . . . ,” I began, breaking into his reverie.

“What’s that, Beau?”

“I think you’re right about Seattle. I think I’ll wait until Jeremy or someone else can go with me.”