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. or 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 lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven,

already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while,

ju st staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so

I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting

tears the whole way there.