Twilight Tenth Anniversary Edition Read online

  But that wasn’t why I couldn’t look away.

  I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all insanely, inhumanly beautiful. The girls and the guys both—beautiful. They were faces you never saw in real life—just airbrushed in magazines and on billboards. Or in a museum, painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to believe they were real.

  I decided the most beautiful of all was the smaller girl with the bronze-colored hair, though I expected the female half of the student body would vote for the movie-star blond guy. They would be wrong, though. I mean, all of them were gorgeous, but the girl was something more than just beautiful. She was absolutely perfect. It was an upsetting, disturbing kind of perfection. It made my stomach uneasy.

  They were all looking away; away from each other, away from the rest of the students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. It reminded me of models posed oh so artistically for an ad—aesthetic ennui. As I watched, the wiry skinhead guy rose with his tray—unopened soda, untouched apple—and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, wondering if they had a dance company here in town, till he dumped his tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who hadn’t changed.

  “Who are they?” I asked the guy from my Spanish class, whose name I’d forgotten.

  As he looked up to see who I meant—though he could probably guess from my tone—suddenly she looked at us, the perfect one. She looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then her dark eyes flickered to mine. Long eyes, angled up at the corners, thick lashes.

  She looked away quickly, faster than I could, though I dropped my stare as soon as she’d glanced our way. I could feel the patches of red start to bloom in my face. In that brief flash of a glance, her face wasn’t interested at all—it was like he had called her name, and she’d looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

  My neighbor laughed once, uncomfortable, looking down at the table like I did.

  He muttered his answer under his breath. “Those are the Cullens and the Hales. Edith and Eleanor Cullen, Jessamine and Royal Hale. The one who left was Archie Cullen. They live with Dr. Cullen and her husband.”

  I glanced sideways at the perfect girl, who was looking at her tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with thin, pale fingers. Her mouth was moving very quickly, her full lips barely opening. The other three looked away, but I still thought she might be speaking quietly to them.

  Weird names. Old-fashioned. The kinds of names grandparents had—like my name. Maybe that was the thing here? Small-town names? And then I finally remembered that my neighbor was named Jeremy. A totally normal name. There were two kids named Jeremy in my history class back home.

  “They’re all very… good-looking.” What an understatement.

  “Yeah!” Jeremy agreed with another laugh. “They’re all together, though—Royal and Eleanor, Archie and Jessamine. Like dating, you know? And they live together.” He snickered and wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

  I didn’t know why, but his reaction made me want to defend them. Maybe just because he sounded so judgmental. But what could I say? I didn’t know anything about them.

  “Which ones are the Cullens?” I asked, wanting to change the tone but not the subject. “They don’t look related… well, I mean, sort of…”

  “Oh, they’re not. Dr. Cullen is really young. Early thirties. The Cullen kids are all adopted. The Hales—the blondes—are brother and sister, twins, I think, and they’re some kind of foster kids.”

  “They look old for foster kids.”

  “They are now. Royal and Jessamine are both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mr. Cullen since they were little. He’s their uncle, I think.”

  “That’s actually kind of amazing—for them to take care of all those kids, when they’re so young and everything.”

  “I guess so,” Jeremy said, though it sounded like he’d rather not say anything positive. As if he didn’t like the doctor and her husband for some reason… and the way he was looking at their adopted kids, I could guess there might be some jealousy involved. “I think Dr. Cullen can’t have any kids, though,” he added, as if that somehow made what they were doing less admirable.

  Through all this conversation, I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the strange family for more than a few seconds at a time. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

  “Have they always lived in Forks?” I asked. How could I never have noticed them during my summers here?

  “No. They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.”

  I felt a strange wave of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were still outsiders, not accepted. Relief that I wasn’t the only newcomer here, and definitely not the most interesting by any standard.

  As I examined them again, the perfect girl, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with obvious curiosity. As I immediately looked away, I thought that her look held some kind of unanswered expectation.

  “Which one is the girl with the reddish brown hair?” I asked. I tried to glance casually in that direction, like I was just checking out the cafeteria; she was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other kids had today—she had this frustrated expression I didn’t understand. I looked down again.

  “That’s Edith. She’s hot, sure, but don’t waste your time. She doesn’t go out with anyone. Apparently none of the guys here are good enough for her,” Jeremy said sourly, then grunted. I wondered how many times she’d turned him down.

  I pressed my lips together to hide a smile. Then I glanced at her again. Edith. Her face was turned away, but I thought from the shape of her cheek that she might be smiling, too.

  After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were seriously graceful—even the golden prom king. It was a strange thing to watch them in motion together. Edith didn’t look at me again.

  I sat at the table with Jeremy and his friends longer than I would have if I’d been sitting alone. I didn’t want to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who politely reminded me that his name was Allen, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. He was probably shy like me.

  When we entered the classroom, Allen went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to at home. He already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edith Cullen by her unusual metallic hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

  My heart started pounding a little faster than usual.

  As I walked down the aisle to do my required intro for the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching her, trying to make it covert. Just as I passed, she suddenly went rigid in her seat. Her face jerked up toward mine so fast it surprised me, staring with the strangest expression—it was more than angry, it was furious, hostile. I looked away, stunned, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.

  I’d been right about the eyes. They were black—coal black.

  Mrs. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions and no mention of my full name. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, she had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by her, confused and awkward, wondering what I could have done to earn the antagonistic glare she’d given me.

  I didn’t look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw her posture change from the corner of my eye. She was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair and averting her face like she smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed. My shirt smelled like laundry detergent. How could that be offensive? I scooted my chair to the right, giving her
as much space as I could, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

  The lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I’d already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

  I couldn’t stop myself from shooting the occasional glance at the strange girl next to me. Throughout the entire class, she never relaxed her stiff position on the edge of her chair, sitting as far from me as possible, with her hair hiding most of her face. Her hand was clenched into a fist on top of her left thigh, tendons standing out under her pale skin. This, too, she never relaxed. She had the sleeves of her white henley pushed up to her elbows, and her forearm flexed with surprisingly hard muscle beneath her pale skin. I couldn’t help but notice how perfect that skin was. Not one freckle, not one scar.

  The class seemed to drag on longer than the rest. Was it because the day was finally ending, or because I was waiting for her tight fist to loosen? It never did; she continued to sit so still it looked like she wasn’t even breathing. What was wrong with her? Was this how she usually acted? I questioned my quick judgment on Jeremy’s sour grapes at lunch today. Maybe he wasn’t just resentful.

  This couldn’t have anything to do with me. She didn’t know me from Adam.

  Mrs. Banner passed some quizzes back when the class was almost done. She handed me one to give to the girl. I glanced at the top automatically—one hundred percent… and I’d been spelling her name wrong in my head. It was Edythe, not Edith. I’d never seen it spelled that way, but it fit her better.

  I glanced down at her as I slid the paper over, and then instantly regretted it. She was glaring up at me again, her long, black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from the hate radiating from her, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

  At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edythe Cullen was out of her seat. She moved like a dancer, every perfect line of her slim body in harmony with all the others, her back to me, and she was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

  I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after her. She was so harsh. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block out the confusion and guilt that filled me. Why should I feel guilty? I hadn’t done anything wrong. How could I have? I hadn’t actually even met her.

  “Aren’t you Beaufort Swan?” a female voice asked.

  I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced girl, her hair carefully flat-ironed into a pale blond curtain, smiling at me in a friendly way. She obviously didn’t think I smelled bad.

  “Beau,” I corrected her, smiling back.

  “I’m McKayla.”

  “Hi, McKayla.”

  “Do you need any help finding your next class?”

  “I’m headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.”

  “That’s my next class, too.” She seemed thrilled, though it wasn’t such a big coincidence in a school this small.

  We walked to class together; she was a chatterer—she supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. She’d lived in California till she was ten, so she got how I felt about the sun. It turned out she’d been in my English class also. She was the nicest person I’d met today.

  But as we were entering the gym she asked, “So, did you stab Edythe Cullen with a pencil or what? I’ve never seen her act like that.”

  I winced. I guess I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn’t Edythe Cullen’s usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

  “Was that the girl I sat next to in Biology?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “She looked like she was in pain or something.”

  “I don’t know,” I responded. “I never spoke to her.”

  “She’s weird.” McKayla lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. “If I got to sit by you, I would have talked to you.”

  I smiled at her before walking through the boys’ locker room door. She was kind and seemed to like me. But that wasn’t enough to make me forget the last strange hour.

  The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform, but she didn’t make me dress down for today’s class. At home, only two years of P.E. were required. Here P.E. was mandatory all four years. My own special version of hell.

  I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained—and inflicted—playing volleyball, I felt a little nauseated.

  The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had faded away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I zipped my jacket up and shoved my free hand into a pocket.

  When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

  Edythe Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. Impossible not to recognize her tangled bronze hair. She didn’t seem to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the balding receptionist to be free.

  She was arguing with him in a low, velvety voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. She was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time—any other time.

  This could not be about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I got to the Biology room. The look on her face must have been about some other problem. It was impossible that a stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me. I wasn’t interesting enough to be worth that strong of a reaction.

  The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, waving through my hair. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edythe Cullen’s back stiffened, and she turned slowly to glare at me—her face was ridiculously perfect, not even one tiny flaw to make her seem human—with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt the oddest thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. As if she were going to pull a gun out and shoot me. The look only lasted a second, but it was colder than the freezing wind. She turned back to the receptionist.

  “Never mind, then,” she said quickly in a voice like silk. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.” And she turned on her heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

  I went robotically to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed him the signed slip.

  “How did your first day go, son?” he asked.

  “Fine,” I lied, my voice cracking. I could see I hadn’t convinced him.

  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 wet, green hell. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to want the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie’s house, trying to think of nothing at all.

  2. OPEN BOOK

  THE NEXT DAY WAS BETTER… AND WORSE.

  It was better because it wasn’t raining yet, though the clouds were dense and black. It was easier because I knew better what to expect of the day. McKayla came to sit by me in English, and walked with me to my next class, with Chess Club Erica glaring at her all the way there; that was kind of flattering. People didn’t stare at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included McKayla, Erica, Jeremy, Allen, and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered. I began to feel like I might be treading water, instead of drowning in it.

  It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn’t sleep with the rain beating on the house. It was worse because Ms. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn’t raised and I had the wrong answer. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn’t dodge out of the way of the ball, I hit two of my teammates in the head with one bad volley. And it was worse because Edythe Cullen wasn’t in school at all.

  All morning I was trying not to think about lunch, not wanting to remember those hate-filled stares. Part of me wan
ted to confront her and demand to know what her problem was. While I was lying awake in bed, I even imagined out what I would say. But I knew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to do it. Maybe if she hadn’t been so abnormally beautiful.

  But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jeremy—trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for her and totally failing—I saw that her four adopted siblings were sitting together at the same table as before, and she was not with them.

  McKayla intercepted us and steered us to her table. Jeremy seemed thrilled by the attention, and his friends quickly joined us. I tried to tune into the conversations around me, but I was still uncomfortable, waiting for Edythe’s arrival. I hoped that she would simply ignore me when she came, and prove that I was making a big deal out of nothing.

  She didn’t come, and I got more and more tense.

  I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, she still hadn’t showed. McKayla, who was starting to seem weirdly, I don’t know, territorial about me, walked by my side to class. I hesitated for a second at the door, but Edythe Cullen wasn’t here, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. McKayla followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. She lingered by my desk till the bell rang, then she smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a boy with braces and something close to a bowl cut.

  I didn’t want to be arrogant, but I was pretty sure she was into me, which was a strange feeling. Girls hadn’t noticed me much at home. I wondered if I wanted her to like me. She was sort of pretty and everything, but her attention made me feel a little uncomfortable. Why was that? Because she’d picked me instead of the other way around? That was a stupid reason. Ego running wild, like it had to be my decision first. Still, it was not as stupid as the other possibility I’d thought of—I really hoped it wasn’t because of the time I’d spent staring at Edythe Cullen yesterday, but I was kind of afraid that was it. Which was about the stupidest thing possible, really. If I based my reaction to a girl’s looks off a face like Edythe’s, I was doomed. That was fantasy, not reality.