#twigays

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Time began to trip along much more quickly than before. School, work, and Jacob—though not necessarily in that order—created a neat and effortless pattern to follow. And Charlie got his wish: I wasn’t miserable anymore. Of course, I couldn’t fool myself completely. When I stopped to be completely honest with myself I still wasn’t over everything.            I had made so much progress over the last month, but I still would find myself feeling lost and confused when I was alone. I threw myself into the life I was building for myself—the adrenaline rushes, the uninhibited adventurous attitude, and Jacob.            I was getting better with my bike, which meant fewer bandages to worry Charlie. The voice was finally starting to fade, until I didn’t hear it anymore. I felt a sense of relief when It had finally gone away but I knew I still hadn’t found my closure. I still wanted to find the meadow and create true closure for myself.            I didn’t keep track of the days that passed—there was no reason, as I tried to live as much in the present as possible, no past fading, no future impending. So I was surprised by the date when Jacob brought it up on one of our homework days. He was waiting when I pulled up in front of his house.            “Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jacob said, smiling, but ducking his head as he greeted me.            He held out a small, pink box, balancing it on his palm. Conversation hearts.            “Well, I feel like a schmuck,” I mumbled. “Is today Valentine’s Day?”            Jacob shook his head with mock sadness. “You can be so out of it sometimes. Yes, it is the fourteenth day of February. So are you going to be my Valentine? Since you didn’t get me a fifty-cent box of candy, it’s the least you can do.”            I started blushing. The words were teasing, but only on the surface.            “What exactly does that entail?” I asked, still red.            “The usual—slave for life, that kind of thing.”            “Oh, well, if that’s all…” I took the candy. “I guess I’m your Valentine, then.”            His eyes sparkled and he grinned so wide I couldn’t help but blush further.            “So what are we doing tomorrow? Hiking, or the ER?”            “Hiking,” I decided. “You’re not the only one who can be obsessive. I’m starting to think I imagined that place…” I frowned into space.            “We’ll find it,” he assured me. “Bikes Friday?” he offered.            I was starting to grow wary of the bikes; despite my improvement I was still sore from the last mishap. Besides, I suddenly remembered something when he mentioned Friday.            “Oh, I’m going to a movie Friday. I’ve been promising my cafeteria crowd that I would go out forever…” I sighed.            Jacob’s face fell. I caught the expression in his dark eyes before he dropped them to look at the ground.            “Will you come?” I asked quickly. “Or would it be too much of a drag with a bunch of boring seniors?” I couldn’t stand hurting Jacob; we seemed connected in a way, and his pain set off little stabs of my own. Besides, the idea of going with Jacob to the movies was much preferred than going with Mike.            “You’d like me to come, with your friends there?”            “Of course,” I smiled, and he beamed. “I’ll have a lot more fun if you’re there. Bring QUil, and we’ll make it a party.”            “Quil’s gonna freak. Prospective seniors.” He chortled and rolled his eyes. I didn’t mention Embry, and neither did he.            I laughed, too. “I’ll try to get him a good selection.”

I broached the subject with Mike in English.            “Hey, Mike,” I said when class was over. “Are you free Friday night?”            He looked up, his blue eyes instantly hopeful. “Yeah, I am. You want to go out?”            I worded my reply carefully. “I was thinking about getting a group”—I gently emphasized the word—“together to go see Crosshairs.” I’d done my homework this time—nothing scary in this one. “Does that sound like fun?”            “Sure,” he agreed, visibly less eager.            “Cool.”            After a second he perked back up to near his former excitement level. “How about we get Angela and Ben? Or Erica and Katie?”            He was determined to make this some kind of double date, apparently.            “How about both?” I suggested. “And Jessica, too, of course. And Tyler, Conner, and Lauren, and maybe Logan,” I tacked on grudgingly. I had promised Quil variety.            “Okay,” Mike muttered, foiled.            “And,” I continued, “I’ve got a couple friends from La Push I’m inviting. So it sounds like we’ll need your Suburban if everyone comes.”           Mike’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.            “These are the friends you spend all your time studying with now?”            “Yep, the very ones,” I answered cheerfully. “They’re all really great. Juniors.”            “Oh,” Mike said, still put out.            In the end, though, the Suburban wasn’t necessary.            Jessica and Lauren already had plans that night, Jess especially was devastated that she wouldn’t get to meet Jacob. Logan claimed to be busy as soon as Mike let it slip that I was involved with the planning. Erica and Katie were also busy—some sort of special dinner. Logan got to Tyler and Conner before Mike could, so those two were also busy. Even Quil was out—grounded for fighting at school. In the end, only Angela and Ben, and of course Jacob, were able to go.            The diminished numbers only added to Mike’s anticipation. It was all he could talk about Friday.            “Are you sure you don’t want to see Tomorrow and Forever instead?” he asked at lunch, naming the current romantic comedy that was ruling the box office. “Rotten Tomatoes gave it a better review.”            “I want to see Crosshairs,” I insisted. “I’m in the mood for an action movie.”            “Okay.” Mike turned away, clearly frustrated.            When I got home from school, a very familiar car was parked in front of my house. Jacob was leaning against the hood, a huge grin lighting up his face.            “No way!” I shouted as I jumped out of the truck. “You’re done! I can’t believe it! You finished the Rabbit!”            He beamed. “Just last night. This is the maiden voyage.”            “Incredible.” I held my hand up for a high five.            He smacked his hand against mine, but left it there, twisting his fingers through mine. “So do I get to drive tonight?”            “Definitely,” I said, and then I sighed.            “What’s wrong?”            “I’m giving up—I can’t top this one. So you win. You’re oldest.”            He shrugged, unsurprised. “Of course I am.”            Mike’s Suburban chugged around the corner. I gently pulled my hand out of Jacob’s, and he made a face that I wasn’t meant to see.            “I remember this guy,” he said in a low voice as Mike parked across the street. “The one who thought you were his boyfriend. Is he still confused?”            I sighed. “He’s hard to discourage.”            “Then again,” Jacob said thoughtfully, “sometimes persistence pays off.”            “Sometimes it’s really annoying, depending on who it’s from.”            Jacob smirked at my words.            Mike got out of his car and crossed the road.            “Hey, Beau,” he greeted me, and then his eyes turned wary as he looked up at Jacob. I glanced briefly at Jacob, too, trying to be objective. He really didn’t look like a junior at all. He was just so big—Mike’s head barely cleared Jacob’s shoulder—and then his face was older-looking than it used to be, even a month ago. Jacob was undoubtedly handsome.            “Hey, Mike! Do you remember Jacob Black?”            “Not really.” Mike held out his hand.            “Old family friend,” Jacob introduced himself, shaking hands.            They locked hands with more force than necessary. When their grip broke, Mike flexed his fingers.            My phone started buzzing in my pocket.            “Sorry guys, one second—it might be Charlie,” I told them, and stepped away back towards the house.            It was Ben. Angela was sick with the stomach flu, and he didn’t feel like coming without her. He apologized for bailing on us.            I walked slowly back to the waiting boys, shaking my head. I really hoped Angela would feel better soon, but I had to admit that I was disappointed by this development. Just the three of us, Mike and Jacob and me, together for the evening—I already knew it was going to be awkward.            It didn’t seem like Jake and Mike had made any progress towards friendship in my absence. They were several yards apart, facing away from each other as they waited for me; Mike’s expression was sullen, though Jacob’s was cheerful as always.            “Ang is sick,” I told them glumly. “She and Ben aren’t coming.”            “I guess the flu is making another round. Austin and Conner were out today, too. Maybe we should do this another time,” Mike suggested.            Before I could say anything, Jacob spoke.            “I’m still up for it. But if you’d rather stay behind, Mike—“            “No, I’m coming,” Mike interrupted. “I was just thinking of Angela and Ben. Let’s go.” He started toward his Suburban.            “Hey, do you mind if Jake drives?” I asked. “I told him he could—he just finished his car. He built if from scratch, all by himself,” I bragged, oddly proud of how clever and handy Jacob was.            “Fine,” Mike snapped.            “All right, then,” Jacob said, as if that settled everything. He seemed more comfortable than anyone else.            Mike climbed into the backseat of the Rabbit with a disgusted expression.            Jacob was his normal sunny self, chattering away until I’d al but forgotten about Mike sulking in the back.            And then Mike changed his strategy. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the shoulder of my seat; his cheek almost touched mine. I shifted away, turning my back toward the window.            “Doesn’t the radio work in this thing?” Mike asked with a hint of petulance, interrupting Jacob mid-sentence.            “Yes,” Jacob answered. “But Beau doesn’t really listen to music.”            I stared at Jacob, surprised. I’d never told him that.            “Beau?” Mike asked, annoyed.            “He’s right,” I replied, still looking at Jacob’s serene profile.            “How can you not listen to music?” Mike demanded.            I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d just rather have good conversations, I guess.”            “Hmph.” Mike leaned away.            When we got to the theatre, Jacob pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.            “It’s only ten.” I objected.            “My treat.” He smiled at me, and I blushed.            Mike quickened his pace to keep up with us.            I almost wished that Mike had decided to boy out. He was still so sullen—not much of an addition to the party. I wouldn’t have minded if I had ended up alone with Jacob.            The movie was definitely not a romance. In just the opening credits, four people got blown up and one got beheaded. The girl in front of me put her hands over her eyes and turned her face into her date’s chest. He patted her shoulder, and winced occasionally, too. Mike didn’t look like he was watching. His face was stiff as he glared toward the fringe of curtain above the screen.            I settled in to endure the two hours, apparently I enjoyed neither scary movies nor violent action films. I tried to watch the colors and the movement on the screen rather than seeing the shapes of people and cars and houses. But then Jacob started sniggering.            “What?” I whispered.            “Oh, c’mon!” he hissed back. “The blood squirted twenty feet out of that guy. How fake can you get?”            He chuckled again, as a flagpole speared another man into a concrete wall.            After that, I really watched the show, laughing with him as the mayhem got more and more ridiculous. I was becoming more and more aware of the blurring lines in my relationship with Jacob. But I almost didn’t care. How could I when I enjoyed being with him so much?            Both Jacob and Mike had claimed the armrests on either side of me. Both of their hands rested lightly, palms up, in an unnatural looking position. I was tempted to place my hand in Jacob’s, but here in the darkened movie theatre, with Mike watching, it would only complicate things.            I passively placed my hands in my lap, at a loss for what to do.            Mike gave up first. About halfway through the movie, he pulled his arm back, and leaned forward to put his head in his hands. At first I thought he was reacting to something on the screen, but then he moaned.            “Mike, are you okay?” I whispered.            The couple in front of us turned to look at him as he groaned again.            “No,” he gasped. “I think I’m sick.”            I could see the sheen of sweat across his face in the light from the screen.            Mike groaned again, and bolted for the door. I got up to follow him, and Jacob copied me immediately.            “No, stay,” I whispered. “I’m just going to make sure he’s okay.”            Jacob came home with me anyway.            “I’ll be right back, I promise. I don’t want you to miss out on the carnage,” I insisted as we walked up the aisle.            “That’s okay. You sure can pick them, Beau. This movie really sucks.” His voice rose from a whisper to its normal pitch as we walked out of the theater.            There was no sign of Mike in the hallway, so Jacob offered to check the men’s bathroom.            Jacob was back in a few seconds.            “Oh, he’s in there, all right,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What a marshmallow. You should hold out for someone with a stronger stomach. Someone who laughs at the gore that makes weaker men vomit.”            “I’ll keep my eyes open for someone like that.”            We were all alone in the hallway. Both theaters were halfway through the movie, and it was deserted—quiet enough for us to hear the popcorn popping at the concession counter in the lobby.            Jacob went to sit on the velveteen-upholstered bench against the wall, patting the space beside him.            “He sounded like he was going to be in there for a while,” he said, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he settled in to wait.            I joined him hesitantly. He looked like he was thinking about blurring more lines. Sure enough, as soon as I sat down, he shifted over to put his arm around my shoulders.            “Jake,” I protested, I didn’t know what it would mean if I let him do this—if I encouraged it. It was probably okay… right?            “What?” He smiled.            “I just…” I shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know.” I felt my face turn red.            “Now, just a minute, Beau,” he said in a calm voice. His arm slid down around my waist, and he pulled me closer. “Tell me something.”            I looked up at his warm, handsome face, so close to mine. I must have looked like a tomato, I was blushing so red.            “What is it?” I breathed.            “You like me, right?”            “You know I do.”            “Better than that joker puking his guts out in there?” He gestured toward the bathroom door.            “Yes.”            “Better than any of the other guys you know?” He was calm, serene—as if he already knew the answer.            “Better than anyone, Jake,” I pointed out.            “But that’s all,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.            It was hard to answer, because I didn’t know the answer myself. I decided to be honest.            “I don’t know,” I whispered.            He grinned down at me. “That’s okay, you know. As long as you like me the best. And you think I’m good-looking—sort of. I’m prepared to be annoyingly persistant.”            “What if I can’t move on?” I said, my honesty shocking me. I tried to keep my voice normal, but I could hear the sadness in it.            His face was thoughtful, no longer teasing. “It’s still the other one, isn’t it?”            I sighed. He knew me so well. He picked up on so much about me that I never said.            “You don’t have to talk about it,” he told me.            I nodded, grateful.            “But don’t get mad at me for hanging around ok?” Jacob squeezed me gently. “Because I’m not giving up. I’ve got loads of time.”            “Is that fair though?” I sighed. “For me to make you waste your time on me?” It wasn’t fair, but I wanted him to. Especially if he was willing to accept me the way I was—a work in progress.            “It’s what I want to do, as long as you still like to be with me.”            “I can’t imagine how I could not like being with you,” I told him honestestly.            Jacob beamed. “I can live with that.”            “Can you?” I sighed.            He took my hand in his, and stroked the back of my hand with his thumb.            “Is this okay?” He said, softly.            “Yes,” I replied, leaning my head against his shoulder. Truthfully, it felt nice. His hand was so warm. So human.            “And you don’t care what he thinks.” Jacob jerked his head toward the bathroom.            “I guess not.”            “So what’s holding you back?”            “I don’t know,” I sighed. “Maybe I’ll never get better, Jake. Maybe I’ll never get over him. I can’t ask you to be okay with that.”            “Well.” He tightened his hand around mine. “That’s my problem, isn’t it?”            “I suppose.”            He rested his head on top of mine and began absently tracing designs against the side of my hand with his little finger.            “That’s a funny scar you’ve got there,” he suddenly said, turning my hand to examine it. “How did that happen?”            His index finger followed the line of the long silvery crescent that was barely visible against my pale skin.            I frowned. “Do you honestly expect me to remember where all my scars come from?”            I waited for the memories to hit—to flood me with the lingering pain. But Jacob’s presence kept them away.            “It’s cold,” he murmured, pressing lightly against the place where James had cut me with his teeth.            He lifted my hand to his lips, and kissed it gently. My face turned red.            And then Mike stumbled out of the bathroom, his face ashen and covered in sweat. He looked horrible.            “Oh, Mike,” I gasped.            “Do you mind leaving early?” he whispered.            “No, that’s… fine.” I reluctantly pulled myself away from Jacob and went to help Mike walk. He looked unsteady.            “Movie too much for you?” Jacob teased.            Mike’s glare was malevolent. “I didn’t actually see any of it,” he mumbled. “I was nauseated before the lights went down.”            “Why didn’t you say something?” I scolded as we staggered toward the exit.            “I was hoping it would pass,” he said.            “Just a sec,” Jacob said as we reached the door. He walked quickly back to the concession stand.            “Could I have an empty popcorn bucket?” he asked the salesgirl. She looked at Mike once, and then thrust a bucket at Jacob.            “Get him outside, please,” she begged. She was obviously the one who would have to clean the floor.            I towed Mike out into the cool, wet air. He inhaled deeply. Jacob was right behind us. He helped me get Mike into the back of the car, and handed him the bucket with a serious gaze.            “Please,” was all Jacob said.            We rolled down the windows, letting the icy night air blow through the car, hoping it would help Mike. I curled my arms around my legs to keep warm.            “Cold, again?” Jacob asked, putting his arm around me before I could answer.            “You’re not?”            He shook his head.            “You must have a fever or something,” I grumbled. It was freezing. I touched my fingeres to his forehead, and his head was hot.            “Jake—you’re burning up!”            “I feel fine.” He shrugged. “Fit as a fiddle.”            I frowned and touched his head again. His skin blazed under my fingers.            “Your hands are like ice,” he complained.            “Maybe it’s me,” I allowed.            Mike groaned in the backseat, and threw up in the bucket. I grimaced, hoping my own stomach could stand the sound and smell. Jacob checked anxiously over his shoulder to make sure his car wasn’t defiled.            The road felt longer on the way back.            Jacob was quiet, thoughtful. He left his arm around me, and it was so warm that the cold wind felt good.            I stared out the windshield, grappling with my conflicting emotions.            It was wrong to encourage Jacob. Pure selfishness. It didn’t matter that, if I was being honest with myself, I wanted him to wait. That, just like him, I felt hope that this could turn into something beyond friendship.            How could I explain so that he would understand? That I was still working through so much and I still had a long ways to go before I was better. Sure, it sounded simple in those terms but it was far worse. How could I explain my desperate, almost consuming, need for closure? How could I explain the phantom voice threatening to burst into my mind and undo all my hard work? How could I explain the nightmare? Maybe I was too broken to be fixed.            Yet I knew that I couldn’t stand to send Jacob away. I needed him too much, as selfish as that was. I was scared to tell him how deep my hurt went. Who would want to deal with that? I could explain it all, and he would leave. The thought made me shudder, and Jacob tightened his arm around me. And I, despite myself, leaned into him.            I drove Mike home in his Suburban, while Jacob followed behind us to take me home. Jacob was quiet all the way back to my house, and I wondered if he was changing his mind about everything.            “I would invite myself in, since we’re early,” he said as we pulled up next to my truck. “But I think you might be right about the fever. I’m starting to feel a little… strange.”            “Oh no, not you, too! Do you want me to drive you home?”            “No.” He shook his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “I don’t feel sick yet. Just… wrong. If I have to, I’ll pull over.”            “Will you call me as soon as you get in?” I asked anxiously.            “Sure, sure.” He frowned, staring ahead into the darkness and biting his lip.            I wrapped my arms around his neck. He was burning up. I hesitantly pulled away and opened my door to get out, but he caught my hand gently and held me there. His skin was burning against mine.            “What is it, Jake?” I asked.            “There’s something I want to tell you, Beau… But I think it’s going to sound kind of corny.”            I caught my breath. “Go head.”            “It’s just that, I know you’re unhappy a lot. And, maybe it doesn’t help anything, but I wanted you to know that I’m always here. I won’t ever let you down—I promise that you can always count on me. Wow, that does sound corny. But you know that, right? That I would never, ever hurt you?”            “I know, Jake. I know that. It doesn’t sound that corny.” I smiled.            The smile broke across his face the way the sunrise set the clouds on fire, and I felt warmth spread through me. I felt a twinge of fear, not that he would hurt me but that I would hurt him.            A strange look crossed his face. “I really think I’d better go home now,” he said.            I got out quickly.            “Call me!” I yelled as he pulled away.            I watched him go, and he seemed to be in control of the car, at least. I stared at the empty street when he was gone, feeling sick myself, but not for any physical reason.            How much I wished that I could just be with Jacob Black, so that I wouldn’t have to put him through this—this waiting, this hoping for something that, for all either of us knew, may never come. He had been perfect—more wonderful than I could have asked or hoped for. He had done everything right. So why couldn’t I just be with him? What was holding me back?            I had never meant to love him. One thing I truly knew—knew it in the pit of my stomach, knew it deep in my very being—was how love gave someone the power to break you.            I’d already been broken so much.            But I did love Jacob. What had started as a rekindled friendship had gone so much further than I ever expected, and I was in deeper that I’d planned to go with anyone again. Now I couldn’t bear for him to be hurt, and I feared that I would be the one to hurt him. He would wait for me, and I didn’t know if that would be enough, but I wanted him to try.            He was my best friend and I loved him.            I went inside to sit by the phone and bite my nails.            “Movie over already?” Charlie asked in surprise when I came in. He was on the floor, just a foot from the TV. Must be an exciting game.            “Mike got sick,” I explained. “Some kind of stomach flu.”            “You okay?”            “I feel fine now,” I said doubtfully. Clearly, I’d been exposed.            I rested myself in the armchair, my hand on my phone, and tried to wait patiently. I thought of the strange look on Jacob’s face before he drove away, and my fingers started drumming against the smooth screen of the phone. I should have insisted on driving him home.            I watched the clock as the minutes ticked by. Ten. Fifteen. Even when I was driving, it only took fifteen minutes, and Jacob drove faster than I did. Eighteen minutes. I picked up my phone and dialed.            It rang and rang. Maybe Billy was asleep. Maybe I’d hit the wrong name. I tried again.            On the eighth ring, just as I was about to hang up, Billy answered.            “Hello?” he asked. His voice was wary, like he was expecting bad news.            “Billy, it’s mea, Beau—did Jake make it home yet? He left here about twenty minutes ago.”            “He’s here,” Billy said tonelessly.            “He was supposed to call me.” I felt a mix of relief and irritation. “He was getting sick when he left, and I was worried.”            “He was… too sick to call. He’s not feeling well right now.” Billy sounded distant. I realized he must want to be with Jacob.            “Let me know if you need any help,” I offered. “I could come down.” I thought of Billy, stuck in his chair, and Jake fending for himself….            “No, no,” Billy said quickly. “We’re fine. Stay at your place.”            The way he said it was almost rude.            “Okay,” I agreed.            “Bye, Beau.”            The line disconnected.            “Bye,” I muttered.            Well, at least he’d made it home. Oddly, I didn’t feel less worried. I trudged up the stairs, fretting. Maybe I would go down before work tomorrow to check on him. I could take soup— we had to have a can of Campbell’s around here somewhere.            I realized all such plans were canceled when I woke up early— my clock said four thirty— and sprinted to the bathroom. Charlie found me there a half hour later, lying on the floor, my cheek pressed against the cold edge of the bathtub.            He looked at me for a long moment.            “Stomach flu,” he finally said.            “Yes,” I moaned.            “You need anything?” he asked.            “Call the Newtons for me, please,” I instructed hoarsely. “Tell them I have what Mike has, and that I can’t make it in today. Tell them I’m sorry.”            “Sure, no problem,” Charlie assured me.            I spent the rest of the day on the bathroom floor, sleeping for a few hours with my head on a crumpled up towel. Charlie claimed that he had to work, but I suspected that he just wanted access to a bathroom. He left a glass of water on the floor beside me to keep me hydrated.            It woke me up when he came back home. I could see that it was dark in my room— after nightfall. He clumped up the stairs to check on me.            “Still alive?”            “Sort of,” I said.            “Do you want anything?”            “No, thanks.”            He hesitated, clearly out of his element. “Okay, then,” he said, and then he went back down to the kitchen.            I heard the phone ring a few minutes later. Charlie spoke to someone in a low voice for a moment, and then hung up.            “Mike feels better,” he called up to me.            Well, that was encouraging. He’d only gotten sick eight hours or so before me. Eight more hours. The thought made my stomach turn, and I pulled myself up to lean over the toilet.            I fell asleep on the towel again, but when I woke up I was in my bed and it was light outside my window. I didn’t remember moving; Charlie must have carried me to my room— he’d also put the glass of water on my bedside table. I felt parched. I chugged it down, though it tasted funny from sitting stagnant all night.            I got up slowly, trying not to trigger the nausea again. I was weak, and my mouth tasted horrible, but my stomach felt fine. I looked at my clock.            My twenty-four hours were up.            I didn’t push it, eating nothing but saltine crackers for breakfast. Charlie looked relieved to see me recovered.            As soon as I was sure that I wasn’t going to have to spend the day on the bathroom floor again, I called Jacob.            Jacob was the one who answered, but when I heard his greeting I knew he wasn’t over it.            “Hello?” His voice was broken, cracking.            “Oh, Jake,” I groaned sympathetically. “You sound horrible.”            “I feel horrible,” he whispered.            “I’m so sorry I made you go out with me. This sucks.”            “I’m glad I went. I got to be with you.” His voice was still a whisper. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”            “You’ll get better soon,” I promised. “I woke up this morning, and I was fine.”            “You were sick?” he asked dully.            “Yes, I got it, too. But I’m fine now.”            “That’s good.” His voice was dead.            “So you’ll probably be better in a few hours,” I encouraged.            I could barely hear his answer. “I don’t think I have the same thing you did.”            “Don’t you have the stomach flu?” I asked, confused.            “No. This is something else.”            “What’s wrong with you?”            “Everything,” he whispered. “Every part of me hurts.”            The pain in his voice was nearly tangible.            “What can I do, Jake? What can I bring you?”            “Nothing. You can’t come here.” He was abrupt. It reminded me of Billy the other night.            “I’ve already been exposed to whatever you have,” I pointed out.            He ignored me. “I’ll call you when I can. I’ll let you know when you can come down again.”            “Jacob—”            “I’ve got to go,” he said with sudden urgency.            “Call me when you feel better.”            “Right,” he agreed, and his voice had a strange, bitter edge.            He was silent for a moment. I was waiting for him to say goodbye, but he waited too.            “I’ll see you soon,” I finally said            “Wait for me to call,” he said again.            “Okay.… Bye, Jacob.”            “Beau,” he whispered my name, and then hung up the phone.

“Okay, where’s your clutch?”            I pointed to the lever on my left handlebar. Letting go of the grip was a misake. The heavy bike wobbled underneath me, threatening to knock me sidewise. I grabbed the handle again, trying to hold it straight.            “Jake, it won’t stay up,” I complained.            “It will when you’re moving,” he promised. “Now where’s your brake?”            “Behind my right foot.”            “Wrong.”            He took my right hand and curled my fingers around  the lever over the throttle.            “But you said—“            “This is the brake you want. Don’t use the back brake now, that’s for later, when you know what you’re doing.”            “That doesn’t sound right,” I said suspiciously. “Aren’t both brakes kind if important?”            “Forget the back brake, okay? Here—“ He wrapped his hand around mine and made me squeeze the lever down. “That is how you brake. Don’t forget.” He squeezed my hand another time.            “Okay,” I agreed.            “Throttle?”            I twisted the right grip.            “Gearshift?”            I nudged it with my left calf.            “Very good. I think you’ve got all the parts down. Now you just have to get it moving.”            “Uh-huh,” I muttered, afraid to say more. My stomach was contorting strangely and I thought my voice might crack. I was terrified. I tried to tell myself I had nothing to be afraid of. I’d already lived through far worse than this. In comparison, why should anything frighten me now? I should be able to look death in the face and laugh.            My stomach wasn’t buying it.            I stared down the long stretch of dirt road, bordered by thick misty green on every side. The road was sandy and damp. Better than mud.            “I want you to hold down the clutch,” Jacob instructed.            I wrapped my fingers around the clutch.            “Now this is crucial, Beau,” Jacob stressed. “Don’t let go of that, okay? I want you to pretend that I’ve handed you a live grenade. The pin is out and you are holding down the spoon.”            I squeezed tighter.            “Good. Do you think you can kick-start it?”            “If I move my foot, I will fall over,” I told him through gritted teeth, my fingers tight around my life grenade.            “Okay, I’ll do it. Don’t let go of the clutch.”            He took a step back, and then suddenly slammed his foot down on the pedal. There was a short ripping noise, and the force of his thrust rocked the bike. I started to fall sideways, but Jake caught the bike before it knocked me to the ground.            “Steady there,” he encouraged. “Do you still have the clutch?”            “Yes,” I gasped.            “Plant your feet—I’m going to try again.” But he put his hand on the back of the seat, too, just to be safe.            It took four more kicks before the ignition caught. I could feel the bike rumbling beneath me like an angry animal. I gripped the clutch until my fingers ached.            “Try out the throttle,” he suggested. “Very lightly. And don’t let go of the clutch.”            Hesitantly, I twisted the right handle. Though the movement was tiny, the bike snarled beneath me. It sounded angry and hungry now. Jacob smiled in deep satisfaction.            “Do you remember how to put it into first gear?” he asked.            “Yes.”            “Well, go ahead and do it.”            “Okay.”            He waited for a few seconds.            “Left foot,” he prompted.            “I know,” I said, taking a deep breath.            “Are you sure you want to do this?” Jacob asked. “You look scared.”            “I’m fine,” I lied. I kicked the gearshift down one notch.            “Very good,” he praised me. “Now, very gently, ease up on the clutch.”            He took a step away from the bike.            “You want me to let go of the grenade?” I asked in disbelief. No wonder he was moving back.            “That’s how you move, Beau. Just do it little by little.”            As I began to loosen my grip, I was shocked to be interrupted by a voice that did not belong to the boy standing next to me.            “This is reckless and childish and idiotic, Beau,” the velvet voice fumed.            “Oh!” I gasped, and my hand fell of the clutch.            The bike bucked under me, yanking me forward and then collapsing to the ground half on top of me. The growling engine choked to a stop.            “Beau?” Jacob jerked the heavy bike off me with ease. “Are you hurt?”            But I wasn’t listening.            “I told you so,” the perfect voice murmured, crystal clear.            “Beau?” Jacob shook my shoulder.            “I’m fine,” I mumbled, dazed.            I wasn’t fine. The voice in my head was back. It still rang in my ears. The last time I’d heard it I had been excited—relieved. This time I was horrified. I didn’t want to hear it anymore. I was moving on; I had come too far and I knew this wasn’t healthy. Why was the voice coming back now?            My mind ran swiftly through the possibilities. There was no familiarity here—on a road I’d never seen, doing something I’d never done before—no déjà vu. So the hallucinations must be triggered by something else… I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins again, and I thought I had the answer. Some combination of adrenaline and danger, or maybe just stupidity.            Jacob was pulling me to my feet.            “Did you hit your head?” he asked.            “I don’t think so.” I shook it back and forth, checking. “I didn’t hurt the bike, did I?” I’d feel awful if I had ruined all of Jacob’s hard work, and I did want to try again. I should have walked away from the bikes, from this whole endeavor, but that couldn’t let him drive me away from this. I couldn’t let him ruin this for me.                        “No. You just stalled the engine,” Jacob said, interrupting my quick speculations. “You let go of the clutch too fast.”            I nodded. “Let’s try again.”            “Are you sure?” Jacob asked.            “Positive.”            This time I tried to get the kick-start myself. It was complicated; I had to jump a little to slam down on the pedal with enough force, and every time I did that, the bike tried to knock me over. Jacob’s hand hovered over the handlebars, ready to catch me if I needed him.            It took several good tries, and even more poor tries, before the engine caught and roared to life under me. Remembering to hold on to the grenade, I revved the throttle experimentally. It snarled at the slightest touch. There was no voice this time. My smiled mirrored Jacob’s now.            “Easy on the clutch,” he reminded me.            “Do you want to get yourself killed?” the other voice spoke again, his tone severe.            My smile wavered. I knew Jacob wasn’t going to let anything serious happen to me, so I wasn’t worried about that. I was worried about the voice.            “Go home to Charlie,” the voice ordered. The sheer beauty of it wavered my resolution to ignore it.            “Ease off slowly,” Jacob encouraged me.            “I will,” I said, focusing on only Jacob’s husky, warm voice.            The voice in my head growled against the roar of the motorcycle.            Trying to focus this time, to not listen to the voice, I relaxed my hand by tiny degrees. Suddenly, the gear caught and wrenched me forward.            And I was flying.            There was wind that wasn’t there before, blowing my skin against my skull and flinging my hair back with enough force it felt like someone was tugging on it. I’d left my stomach back at the starting point; the adrenaline coursed through my body, tingling in my veins. The trees raced past me, blurring into a wall of green.            But this was only first gear. My foot itched toward the gearshift as I twisted for more gas.            “No, Beau!” the angry, honey-sweet voice ordered in my ear. “Watch what you’re doing.”            “Leave me alone.” I choked out the words, “leave me alone.” I didn’t want to hear this voice. It was cold and angry. A mockery of the voice I remembered. This wasn’t helping me. This was hurting me. I realized I wasn’t paying attention to the road. I was going too fast and the road was starting a slow curve to the left, and I was still going straight. I panicked.            “Brakes, brakes,” I muttered to myself, and I instinctively slammed down with my right foot, like I would in my truck.            The bike was suddenly unstable underneath me, shivering first to one side and then the other. It was dragging me toward the green wall, and I was going too fast. I tried to turn the handlebar the other direction, and the sudden shift of my weight pushed the bike toward the ground, still spinning toward the trees.            The motorcycle landed on top o me again, roaring loudly, pulling me across the wet sand until it hit something stationary. I couldn’t see. My face was mashed into the moss. I tried to lift my head, but there was something in the way.            I was dizzy and confused. It sounded like there were three things snarling—the bike over me, the voice in my head, and something else….            “Beau!” Jacob yelled, and I heard the roar of the other bike cut off.            The motorcycle no longer pinned me to the ground, and I rolled over to breathe. All the growling went silent.            “What happened?” I was still confused. I felt like I couldn’t sit up. My head was spinning; why was I hearing the voice? Maybe before I would have been okay with it—wanted it—but now it was the last thing I wanted to hear. Despite my horror, I wouldn’t let him ruin this for me.            “Beau!” Jacob was crouching over me anxiously. “Beau, are you alive?”            “I’m okay.” I sighed. I flexed my arms and legs. Everything seemed to be working correctly. “Let’s try again.”            “I don’t think so.” Jacob still sounded worried. “I think I’d better drive you to the hospital first.”            “I’m fine, Jake.”            “Um, Beau? You’ve got a huge cut on your forehead, and it’s gushing blood,” he informed me.            I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet and sticky. I could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea.            “Oh, I’m so sorry, Jacob.” I pushed hard against the gash, as if I could force the blood back inside my head.            “Why are you apologizing for bleeding?” he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and pulled me to my feet. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.” He held out his hand for the keys.            “Okay… But what about the bikes?” I asked, handing them over.            He thought for a second. “Wait here. And take this.” He pulled off his T-shirt, already spotted with blood, and threw it to me. I wadded it up and held it tightly to my forehead. I was starting to smell the blood; I breathed deeply through my mouth and tried to concentrate on Jacob’s scent still clinging to his shirt.            Jacob jumped on the black motorcycle, kicked it to a start in one try, and raced back down the road, spraying sand and pebbles behind him. He looked athletic and professional as he leaned over the handlebars, head low, face forward, his shiny hair whipping against the russet skin of his back. I couldn’t help but gawk at him.            I was surprised at how far I’d gone. I could barely see Jacob in the distance when he finally got to the truck. He threw the bike into the bed and sprinted to the driver’s side.            I watched as he coaxed my truck to a deafening roar in his hurry to get back to me. My head stung a little, and my stomach was uneasy, but the cut wasn’t serious. Head wounds just bled more than most. But his urgency made me feel almost happy, in a strange way.            Jacob left the truck running as he raced back to me, wrapping his arm around my waist again.            “Okay, let’s get you in the truck.”            “I’m honestly okay, Jake,” I assured him as he helped me in. “Don’t worry. It’s just a little blood.”            “Just a lot of blood,” I heard him mutter as he went back for my bike.            “No, wait a minute,” I grabbed his arm when he got back in. “If you take me to the ER like this, Charlie is sure to hear about it.” I glanced down at the sand and dirt caked into my jeans.            “Beau, I think you need stitches. I’m not going to let you bleed to death.”            “I won’t,” I promised. “Let’s take the bikes back first, and then we’ll stop at my house so I can dispose of the evidence before we go to the hospital.”            “What about Charlie?”            “He said he had to work today.”            “Are you really sure?”            “Trust me. I’m an easy bleeder. It’s not that bad… I don’t think.”            Jacob wasn’t happy—his full mouth turned down in an uncharacteristic frown—but he didn’t want to get me in trouble. I stared out the window, holding his ruined shirt to my head, occasionally stealing quick glances at him while he drove me to Forks.            The motorcycles had been a thrill, and something I could do with Jacob and have fun. But the voice still bothered me—I didn’t want to hear it. I did feel some sick sense of satisfaction though. I’d cheated—broken my promise just like he’d broken his.            But would I always have these hallucinations? Did he leave me so thoroughly broken that I couldn’t even live without him forcing his way back into my life? Maybe I’d have to retire my motorcycle.            Racing down the road like that had been amazing. The feel of the wind in my face, the speed and the freedom… I slowly realized it had reminded me of a past life, flying through the thick forest without a road, piggyback while he ran—I stopped thinking right there, forcing the memory from my mind. I huffed in frustration.            “You still okay?” Jacob checked.            “Yeah. Thank you, Jake.”            “You’re welcome,” he smirked. “By the way, I’m going to disconnect your foot brake tonight.”            At home, I went to look at myself in the mirror first thing; it was pretty gruesome. Blood was drying in thick streaks across my cheek and neck, my hair near the cut was matted with blood and dirt. I could understand Jacob’s panic. I examined myself clinically, trying not to think too deeply about the blood. I breathed through my mouth, and was fine.            I washed up as well as I could. Then I hid my dirty, bloody clothes in the bottom of my laundry basket, putting on new jeans and a button-up shirt that I didn’t have to pull over my head as carefully as I could. I managed to do this one-handed and keep both garments blood-free.            “Hurry up,” Jacob called.            “Coming,” I shouted back. After making sure I left nothing incriminating behind me, I headed downstairs.            “How do I look?” I asked him.            “Better,” he admitted.            “But do I look like I tripped in your garage and hit my head on a hammer?”            “Sure, I guess so.”            “Let’s go then.”            Jacob hurried me out the door, and insisted on driving again. We were halfway to the hospital when I realized he was still shirtless.            I frowned guiltily. “We should have grabbed you a jacket—do you want mine?”            “That would have given us away,” he teased. “Besides, you need your jacket wouldn’t fit me and it’s not cold.”            “Are you kidding?” I shivered and reached out to turn the heat on.            I watched Jacob to see if he was playing tough so I wouldn’t worry, but he looked comfortable enough. He had one arm over the back of my seat, though I was huddled up to keep warm. I inched closer to him, eager for some of his warmth.            Jacob really did look older than seventeen—not quite forty, but maybe older than me. Quil didn’t have too much on him in the muscle department, for all that Jacob claimed to be a skeleton. The muscles were long and lean, but they were definitely there under the smooth skin.            Jacob noticed my scrutiny.            “What?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious.            “Nothing. I just hadn’t realized before. Did you know, you’re sort of beautiful?”            Once the words slipped out, I felt myself blush deep scarlet.            But Jacob just rolled his eyes. “You hit your head pretty hard, didn’t you?”            “I’m serious.”            “Well, then, thanks. Sort of.”            I grinned and leaned against his shoulder. “You’re sort of welcome.”

I had to have seven stitches to close the cut on my forehead. After the sting of the local anesthetic, there was no pain in the procedure. Jacob held my hand while Dr. Snow was sewing, and I tried not to think about why that was ironic.            We were at the hospital forever. By the time I was done, I had to drop Jacob off at his home and hurry back to cook dinner for Charlie. Charlie seemed to buy my story about falling in Jacob’s garage. After all, with my track record it was moderately plausible.            That night was strange. I felt a sense of lingering warmth from Jacob’s presence, but the voice had disturbed me deeply. I had made a decision to move on with my life, to get over him. Maybe because the motorcycles were part of some insane idea to get back at him in a petty way was the reason I heard his voice. I was finally feeling happy, like I was getting better. I wasn’t going to let this stop me from living. I knew the nightmares had to end and I’d get over it.

The next Wednesday, before I could get home from the ER, Dr. Gerandy called to warn my father that I might possible have a concussion and advised him to wake me up every two hours through the night to make sure it wasn’t serious. Charlie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at my weak explanation about tripping again.            “Maybe you should stay out of the garage altogether, Beau,” he suggested that night during dinner.            I panicked, worried that Charlie was about to lay down some kind of edict that would prohibit La Push. I half-wondered if maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing—I’d heard the voice again today. I enjoyed my motorcycle for nearly ten minutes before the voice yelled at me for going too fast and I panicked and hit the brake too abruptly and launched myself into a tree. Jacob was shocked by the string of curses I had let out. I would not let the stupid voice ruin things for me.            “This didn’t happen in the garage,” I protested quickly. “We were hiking, and I tripped over a rock.”            “Since when do you hike?” Charlie asked skeptically.            “Working at Newton’s was bound to rub off sometime,” I pointed out. “Besides, Jake is really athletic. It was bound to have an effect on me.”            Charlie glared at me, unconvinced.            “I’ll be more careful,” I promised, half considering giving up the bikes.            “I don’t mind you hiking right there around La Push, but keep close to town, okay?”            “Sure, but how come?”            “Well, we’ve been getting a lot of wildlife complaints lately. The forestry department is going to check into it, but for the time being…”            “Oh, the big bear,” I said with sudden comprehension. “Yeah, some of the hikers coming though Newton’s have seen it. Do you think there’s really some giant mutated grizzly out there?”            His forehead creased. “There’s something. Keep it close to town, okay?”            “Sure, sure,” I said quickly. He didn’t look completely appeased. But I didn’t mind; I was grinning to myself when I realized how much Jacob really was rubbing off on me.

“Charlie’s starting to suspect something,” I sighed to Jacob when I picked him up after school Friday.            “Maybe we should cool it with the bikes.” He saw my disappointed expression and added, “At least for a week or so. You could stay out of the hospital for a week, right?”            “No, no,” I sighed. “You’re right. What else can we do?”            He smiled cheerfully. “What ever you want.”            I thought about that for a minute—about what I wanted.            I wanted to move on and I wanted to forget. That night in Port Angeles I had made such a fuss about keeping just some of my memories but now that seemed foolish. Why did he still have such a tight grip on me? Why was I hearing his damn voice in my head? This wasn’t normal or healthy. I was sure even the worst breakups in the world didn’t result in hallucinations of phantom voices. I was pretty sure that was a whole new level of not okay.            I wanted to be happy and I realized with every new day I spent with him that I was happy with Jacob. I didn’t feel sad around him; I didn’t feel that ache of loss or longing anymore. I wanted that—more of that—and I didn’t want the voice to interrupt that happiness and send me careening back down the depressed road I’d worked so hard to stray away from.            So what could I do? There had to be some way I could find closure.            The house had been a mistake, certainly. But there had to be something I could do—someplace I could go to find my closure… right? There had to be a way to remove myself from what was real and what was now, to isolate myself with my memories and create my own kind of closure with what little I had.            I could think of one place where maybe—just maybe—I could do that. Once place that I hadn’t gone back to. The beautiful meadow I’d only seen once in my life.            The idea had a huge potential for backfiring—it might make everything worse. But I was desperate. I was willing to try anything at this point to get my closure that he’d taken away from me. Maybe I could go to that meadow and say goodbye to him. Besides, I’d already told Charlie I was hiking…            “What are you thinking about so hard?” Jacob asked.            “Well…,” I began slowly. “I found this place in the forest once—I came across it when I was, um, hiking. A little meadow. I don’t know if I could track it down agai on my own. It would definitely take a few tries…”            “We could use a compass and a grid pattern,” Jacob said with confident helpfulness. “Do you know where you started from?”            “Yes, just below the trailhead where the one-ten ends. I was going mostly south, I think.”            “Cool. We’ll find it.” As always, Jacob was game for anything I wanted. No matter how strange it was.            So, Saturday afternoon, I tied on my new hiking boots—purchased that morning using my twenty-percent off employee discount for the first time—grabbed my new topographical map of the Olympic Peninsula, and drove to La Push.            We did get started right away; first, Jacob sprawled across the living room floor—taking up the whole room—and, for a full twenty minutes, drew a complicated web across the key section of the map while I sat next to him and absentmindedly played with his long, black hair; braiding and unbraiding it. When Billy asked us what we were up to he didn’t seem at all concerned about our proposed hiking trip. I was surprised that Jacob had told him where we were going, given the fuss people were making about the bear sightings. I wanted to ask Billy not to say anything about this to Charlie, but I was afraid that making the request would cause the opposite result.            “Maybe we’ll see the super bear,” Jacob joked, eyes on his design.            I glanced at Billy swiftly, fearing a Charlie-style reaction.            But Billy just laughed at his son. “Maybe you should take a jar of honey, just in case.”            Jake chuckled. “Hope your new boots are fast, Beau. One little jar isn’t going to keep a hungry bear occupied for long.”            “I only have to be faster than you.” I smirked, tossing a braid of his hair in his face.            “Good luck with that!” Jacob said, rolling his eyes as he moved his hair out of his face and refolded the map. “Let’s go.”            “Have run,” Billy rumbled, wheeling himself toward the refrigerator.            Charlie was not a hard person to live with, but it looked to me like Jacob had it even easier than I did.            I drove to the very end of the dirt road, stopping near the sign that marked the beginning of the trailhead. It had been a long time since I’d been here, and my stomach reacted nervously. This might be a very bad thing. But it would be worth it if I got my closure.            I got out and looked at the dense wall of green.            “I went this way,” I murmured, pointing straight ahead.            “Hmm,” Jake muttered.            “What?”            He looked at the direction I’d pointed, then at the clearly marked trail, and back.            “I would have figured you for a trail kind of guy.”            “Not me.” I smiled bleakly. “I’m a rebel.”            He laughed, and then pulled out our map.            “Give me a second.” He held the compass in a skilled way, twisting the map around till it angled the way he wanted.            “Okay—first line on the grid. Let’s do it.”            I could tell I was slowing Jacob up, but he didn’t complain. I tried not to think about my last trip through this part of the forest, with a very different companion. I immediately felt a surge of anxious panic as we stepped into the trees. Apparently I still wasn’t okay with being in the forests. I hoped I wouldn’t have another panic attack; I didn’t want poor Jacob to deal with that.            It wasn’t as hard as I would have thought to keep the panic at bay. Being with Jacob made me feel safe and protected and he set a vastly different mood.            He whistled cheerfully, an unfamiliar tune, swinging his arms and moving easily through the rough undergrowth. The shadows didn’t seem as dark as usual. Not with my personal sun with me.            Jacob kept the compass every few minutes, keeping us in a straight line with one of the radiating spokes of his grid. He really looked like he knew what he was doing. I was doing to compliment him, but I caught myself. No doubt he’d add another few years to his inflated age.            My mind wandered as I walked, and I grew curious. I hadn’t forgotten the conversation we’d had by the sea cliffs—I’d been waiting for him to bring it up again, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.            “Hey… Jake?” I asked hesitantly.            “Yeah?”            “How are things… with Embry? Is he back to normal yet?”            Jacob was silent for a minute, still moving forward with long paces. When he was about ten feet ahead, he stopped to wait for me.            “No. He’s not back to normal,” Jacob said when I reached him, his mouth pulling down at the corners. He didn’t start walking again. I immediately regretted bringing it up.            “Still with Sam.”            “Yup.”            He put his arm around my shoulder, and he looked so troubled that I wrapped my arm around his waist and rested my head against him.            “Are they still looking at you funny?” I half-whispered.            Jacob stared through the trees. “Sometimes.”            “And Billy?”            “As helpful as ever,” he said in a sour, angry voice that disturbed me.            “Our couch is always open,” I offered.            He laughed, breaking out of the unnatural gloom. “But think of the position that would put Charlie in—when Billy calls the police to report my kidnapping.”            I laughed, glad to have Jacob back to normal.            “We can hide you under my bed.” I teased.            “I’d rather be on your bed.” His eyes grew wide, and he blushed red. “I mean—you can sleep under the bed.” He stammered awkwardly.            I couldn’t keep myself from laughing, and I hugged his waist. He quickly started walking forward and I followed him, still giggling.            We stopped when Jacob said we’d gone six miles, cut west for a short time, and headed back along another line of his grid. Everything looked exactly the same as the way in, and I had a feeling that my silly quest was pretty much doomed. I admitted as much when it started to get darker, the sunless day fading toward a starless night, but Jacob was more confident.            “As long as you’re sure we’re starting from the right place…” He glanced down at me.            “Yes, I’m sure.”            “Then we’ll find it,” he promised, grabbing my hand and pulling me through a mass of ferns. On the other side was my truck. He gestured toward it proudly. “Trust me.”            “You’re good,” I admitted. “Next time we bring flashlights, though.”            “We’ll save hiking for Sundays from now on. I didn’t know you were that slow.”            I narrowed my eyes at him and pointedly took my hand back, stomping around to the driver’s side while he chuckled at my reaction.            “So you up for another try tomorrow?” he asked, sliding into the passenger seat.            “Sure. Unless you want to go without me so I don’t tie you down to my snail’s pace.”            “I’ll survive,” he assured me. “If we’re hiking again, though, you might want to pick up some moleskin. I bet you can feel those new boots right now.”            “A little,” I confessed. I felt like I had more blisters than I had space to fit them.            “I hope we see the bear tomorrow. I’m sort of disappointed about that.”            “Yeah, me, too,” I agreed sarcastically. “Maybe we’ll get lucky tomorrow and something will eat us!”            “Bears don’t want to eat people. We don’t taste that good.” He grinned at me in the dark cab. “Of course, you might be an exception. I bet you’d taste good.”            “Thanks so much,” I said, looking away. He wasn’t the first person to tell me that.

I felt absolutely awful in the morning. I hadn’t slept well; my arm burned and my head ached. It didn’t help my outlook that Edward’s face was smooth and remote as he kissed my forehead quickly and ducked out my window. I was afraid of the time I’d spent unconscious, afraid that he might have been thinking about right and wrong again while he watched me sleep. The anxiety seemed to ratchet up the intensity of the pounding in my head.            Edward was waiting for me at school, as usual, but his face was still wrong. There was something buried in his eyes that I couldn’t be sure of—and it was unsettling. I didn’t want to bring up last night, but I wasn’t sure if avoiding the subject would be worse.            He opened my door for me.            “How do you feel?”            “Perfect,” I lied, cringing as the sound of the slamming door echoed in my head.            We walked in silence, he shortening his stride to match mine. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but most of those questions would have wait, because they were for Alice: How was Jasper this morning? What had they said when I was gone? What had Royal said? And most importantly, what could she see happening now in her strange, imperfect visions of the future? Could she guess what Edward was thinking, why he was so gloomy? Was there a foundation for the tenuous, instinctive fears that I couldn’t seem to shake?            The morning passed slowly. I was impatient to see Alice, though I wouldn’t be able to really talk to her with Edward there. Edward remained aloof. Occasionally he would ask about my arm, and I would lie.            Alice usually beat us to lunch; she didn’t have to keep pace with me like Edward did. Bit she wasn’t at the table, waiting with a tray of food she wouldn’t eat.            Edward didn’t say anything about her absence. I wondered to myself if her class was running late—until I saw Conner and Ben, who were in her fourth hour French class.            “Where’s Alice?” I asked Edward anxiously.            He looked at the granola bar he was slowly pulverizing between his fingertips while he answered. “She’s with Jasper.”            “Is he okay?”            “He’s gone away for a while.”            “What? Where?”            Edward shrugged. “Nowhere in particular.”            “And Alice, too,” I said with sadness. Of course, if Jasper needed her, she would go.            “Yes. She’ll be gone for a while. She was trying to convince him to go to Denali.”            Denali was where the other band of unique vampires—good ones like the Cullens lived. Tomás and his family. I’d heard of them now and again. Edward had run to them last winter when my arrival had made Forks difficult for him. Laurent, the most civilized member of James’s little coven, had gone there rather than siding with James against the Cullens. It made sense for Alice to encourage Jasper to go there.            I swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in my throat. The guilt made my head bow and my shoulders slump. They had to leave because of me, because it was difficult to be around me, just like Royal. I felt terrible.            “Is your arm bothering you?” he asked solicitously.            “Who cares about my stupid arm?” I muttered sadly.            He didn’t answer, and I laid my heads on my folded arms on the table.            By the end of the day, the silence was becoming ridiculous. I didn’t want to be the one to break it, but apparently that was my only choice if I wanted him to talk to me.            “You’ll come over later tonight?” I asked as he walked me—silently—to my truck. He always came over.            “Later?”            It pleased me that he seemed surprised. “I have to work. I had to trade with Mrs. Newton to get yesterday off.”            “Oh,” he murmured.            “So you’ll come over when I’m home, though, right?” I hated that I felt suddenly unsure about this.            “If you want me to.”            “I always want you,” I reminded him, with perhaps a little more intensity than the conversation required.            I expected he would laugh, or smile, or react somehow to my words.            “All right, then,” he said indifferently.            He kissed my forehead again before he shut the door on me. Then he turned his back and loped gracefully toward his car.            I was at least able to drive out of the parking lot before the rising feeling of dread hit, it only worsened by the time I got to Newton’s.            He just needed time, I reasoned. He would get over this. Maybe he was sad because his family was disappearing. But Alice and Jasper would come back soon, and Royal and Emmett, too. If it would help, I would stay away from the big white house on the river—I’d never set foot there again. That would be okay. I’d still see Alice at school. She would have to come back for school, right? And she was at my place all the time anyway. She wouldn’t want to hurt Charlie’s feelings by staying away.            No doubt I would also run into Carlisle at the hospital. Maybe I’d see Esme around town, and perhaps Emmett would want to come visit, too.            After all, what had happened last night was nothing. Nothing had happened. So I fell down—that was the story of my life. Compared to last spring, it seemed especially unimportant. James had left me broken and nearly dead from blood loss—and yet Edward had handled the interminable weeks in the hospital much better than this. Was it because, this time, it wasn’t an enemy he’d had to protect me from? Because it was his brother?            Maybe it would be better if he could just hold out until we left for college. If he could just last through the school year, we could go away. Surely Edward could wait a year. What was a year to an immortal? It didn’t seem like that much to me.            I was able to talk myself into a relatively composed state that would allow for working. I got out of my truck and walked to the store. Mike Newton had beaten me here today, and he smiled and waved when I came in. I grabbed my vest, waving back. I was still distracted by Edward’s behavior.            Mike interrupted my thoughts. “How was your birthday?”            “Oh,” I sighed, “It was nothing special.”            Mike looked at me from the corners of his eyes with confusion.            Work dragged. I wanted to see Edward, to talk to him. I had been quiet and passive so far, but that wasn’t going to help either of us. I needed to be assertive and we needed to talk about this problem. I hoped Edward would be past the worst of this, whatever it was exactly, by the time I saw him again. I tried to convince myself it was nothing; that everything would go back to normal.            The relief I felt when I turned onto my street and saw Edward’s silver car parked in front of my house was more than welcome. Somewhere, in the back of my head, it bothered me that his presence alone had such sway over my mood.            I hurried through the front door, calling out as soon as I was inside.            “Dad? Edward?”            As I spoke, I could hear the distinctive theme music from ESPN’s SportsCenter coming from the living room.            “In here,” Charlie called.            I hung my raincoat on its peg and hurried around the corner.            Edward was in the armchair, my father on the sofa. Both had their eyes trained on the TV. The focus was normal for my father. Not so much for Edward.            “Hi,” I said weakly.            “Hey, Beau,” my father answered, eyes never moving. “We just had cold pizza. I think it’s still on the table.”            “Okay.”            I took a tentative step towards the kitchen, my eyes on Edward. He finally looked over at me with a polite smile. “I’ll wait here,” he said simply. His eyes strayed back to the TV.            I stared for another minute, confused. Neither one seemed to notice. I could feel that feeling of dread resurfacing. I hurried to the kitchen.            The pizza held no interest for me; I had no appetite. I sat in my chair and stared at nothing in particular. Something was very wrong, maybe more wrong than I’d realized. The sounds of the television continued in the living room.            I had no frame of reference for this. I had never had a boyfriend, let alone a vampire boyfriend before. What was I supposed to do? My resolve to talk to Edward about the problem wavered; would that help? Would that only upset him more? If his temper was the problem I’d know instantly how to deal with that, but this was different. And more than that, this didn’t just concern Edward and me; this changed things with his family. Jasper was certainly off limits, maybe if we worked that out Edward wouldn’t be so… whatever he was right now.            My head was spinning trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. In front of me, on the table, was the scrapbook Renée had sent. A distraction, and a welcome one at that. I touched the pretty cover of the scrapbook, and sighed, thinking of my mother. I flipped the front cover open. Little metal corners were already in place to hold the first picture. I decided to distract myself by getting started filling the pages with memories. Everything suddenly seemed fleeting for some reason.            I pulled my new phone out of my pocket and looked at the solitary photo I had taken of Edward. On the screen it was beautiful, and he looked so carefree and happy. So much had changed, and so abruptly. The boy sitting in my living room now was completely different. That dread reared its head again.            I didn’t want to think about it. I headed upstairs with my phone eager to distract myself.            My room hadn’t really changed all that much in the seventeen years since my mother had been there. The walls were still light blue, but now dark red curtains hung in front of the window instead of the pastel yellow ones she had hung. There was a bed, rather than a crib, but she would recognize the quilt draped untidily over the top—it had been a gift from Gran.            Regardless, I snapped a picture of my room. There wasn’t much else I could do tonight—it was too dark outside. I felt the urge to take as many pictures as I could, to preserve a moment in time that felt like it was slipping away.            Change was coming. I could feel it. It wasn’t a pleasant prospect, either.            I took my time coming back down the stairs, phone in hand, trying to ignore the knots in my stomach as I thought of the strange distance I didn’t want to see in Edward’s eyes. He would get over this. That’s what couples did—they got over things.            I had the camera on the phone ready as I leaned around the corner, being sneaky. I was sure there was no chance that I had caught Edward by surprise, but he didn’t look up. I felt a brief shiver as something icy twisted in my stomach; I ignored that and took the picture. The phone made a loud shutter sound as the flash lit up the room.            They both looked at me then. Charlie frowned. Edward’s face was empty, expressionless.            “What are you doing, Beau?” Charlie complained.            “Oh, come on.” I forced a smile as I went to sit on the floor in front of the sofa where Charlie lounged. “You know Mom will be calling soon to ask if I’m using my presents. She’d love to see some pictures.”            “Why are you taking pictures of me, though?” he grumbled.            “Because you suggested I take pictures with the phone,” I teased, keeping it light. “You’re obligated to be one of my subjects.”            He mumbled something unintelligible.            “Hey, Edward,” I said, with admirable indifference. “Take one of me and my dad together.”            I threw the phone toward him, carefully avoiding his eyes, and knelt beside the arm of the sofa where Charlie’s face was. Charlie sighed.            “You need to smile, Beau,” Edward murmured.            I did my best, and the phone flashed.            “Let me take one of you kids,” Charlie suggested. I knew he was just trying to shift the camera’s focus from himself.            Edward stood and lightly tossed him the phone.            I went to stand beside Edward, and the arrangement felt formal and strange to me. He put on hand lightly on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm more securely around his waist. I wanted to look at his face, but I was afraid to.            “Smile, Beau,” Charlie reminded me again.            I took a deep breath and smiled. The flash blinded me.            “Enough pictures for tonight,” Charlie said then, handing me back my phone. “You can take more tomorrow.”            Edward dropped his hand from my shoulder and twisted casually out of my arm. He sat back down on the armchair.            I hesitated, and then went to sit against the sofa again. I decided to be indifferent, too. It was harder than I thought it would be. I stared at the TV screen in front of me, seeing nothing.            When the show ended, I hadn’t moved an inch. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward stand.            “I’d better get home,” he said.            Charlie didn’t look up from the commercial. “See ya.”            I got awkwardly to my feet—I was stiff from sitting on the floor—and followed Edward out the front door. He went straight to his car.            “Will you stay?” I asked, no hope in my voice.            I expected his answer, so it didn’t really hurt.            “Not tonight.”            I didn’t ask for a reason.            He got in his car and drove away while I stood there, unmoving. I barely noticed that it was raining. I waited, without knowing what I waited for, until the door opened behind me.            “Beau, what are you doing?” Charlie asked, surprised to see me standing there alone and dripping.            “Nothing.” I turned and walked back to the house.            It was a long, restless night.            I woke up as soon as there was a faint light outside my window. I showered and dressed for school mechanically, feeling tense and uneasy. After I had eaten a bowl of cereal, I decided it was light enough for more pictures to distract myself. I took one of my truck, and then the front of the house. I turned and snapped a few of the forest by Charlie’s house. Funny how it didn’t seem sinister like it used to. I realized how much I’d grown to love it—the green, the timelessness, the mystery of the woods. All of it.            I slid my phone back into my pocket, eager to take more pictures at school. I tried to concentrate on my little project rather than the fact that Edward apparently hadn’t gotten over things during the night.            Along with the unease and dread, I was beginning to feel impatience. How long could this last?            It lasted all through the morning. He walked silently beside me, never seeming to actually look at me. I tried to concentrate on my classes, but not even English could hold my attention. Mr. Berty had to repeat his question about Lady Capulet twice before I realized he was talking to me. I stuttered out the answer, embarrassed, while Edward continued to ignore me.            At lunch, the silence continued. I was tired of it, I wanted to scream to break monotony. Trying to further distract myself, I leaned across the table’s invisible line and spoke to Jessica.            “Hey, Jess?”            “What’s up, Beau?”            “Could you do me a favor?” I asked, reaching into my bag. “My parents got me this new phone and my mom wants me to take pictures for a scrapbook. Will you guys all put your numbers in it and take some pictures of everybody?”            I handed her my phone.            “Oh my god, I’ve been asking my dad for this one!” she snatched it away full of excitement, and turned to snap a candid shot of Mike with his mouth full.            A picture war ensued. I watched them hand the camera around the table, giggling and complaining about unflattering angles. It brightened my mood, a little, to see them so happy. I watched as they took pictures of each other, of themselves, and added their numbers into the phone. It was all so effortless, so easy. So normal.            “I think we better stop before we fill up your phone,” Jessica finally snatched the phone back from Mike and returned it to me.            “Thanks, Jess. I appreciate it.”            “I hope you know I’ll be texting you daily.” Jessica grinned.            “I would expect nothing less.” I smiled.            After school, Edward walked me back to the parking lot in silence. I had to work again, and for once, I was glad. Time together obviously wasn’t helping things. Maybe some time apart would be better.            Work progressed as slow as usual. I could barely pay attention the entire time. At home, I said a brief hi to Charlie, grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen, and hurried up to my room.            I sat in the middle of my bed and connected my phone to my new laptop to download the pictures.            When the first picture came up on the screen I sighed. Edward looked just as beautiful as he did in real life, staring at me out of the screen with the warm eyes I’d missed for the past few days. It made me sad to see him happy and warm knowing that it was only a few short days ago. I made the picture my phone’s wallpaper.            I scrolled through the rest of the pictures quickly, but three stood out to me.            The first was the picture of Edward in the kitchen, his warm eyes touched with tolerant amusement. The second was Edward and Charlie, watching ESPN. The difference in Edward’s expression was severe. His eyes were careful here, reserved. Still breathtakingly beautiful, but his face was colder, more like a sculpture, less alive.            The last was the picture of Edward and me standing awkwardly side by side. Edward’s face was the same as he last, cold and statue-like. But that wasn’t the most troubling part of this photograph. The coldness between the two of us was almost painful. Visible even in the photograph. Anyone who looked at us would think we barely knew each other, not that we’d promised forever. I closed the picture with a gnawing ache of sadness.            Instead of doing my homework, I stayed up to print out the pictures and put them into the album. With a ballpoint pen, I scrawled captions under all the pictures, the names and dates. I got to the picture of Edward, warm and loving, and put it on the first page.            When I was done, I printed off a second set of prints in an envelope and penned a long thank-you letter to Renée.            Edward still hadn’t come over. I had hoped maybe he would show up at some point while I was busy with the photos, but that hope was in vain. I tried to remember the last time he’d stayed away like this, without an excuse, a phone call… he never had.            Again, I didn’t sleep well.            Edward wasn’t there when I arrived at school. Despite the dark rain clouds in the sky, he was oddly absent. The entire day was a slow blur as my heart sunk lower and lower. I felt relief when I saw him waiting for me by my truck at the end of the day, but it faded quickly when I saw his stony face.            It was hard to remember the reason for all this mess. My birthday already felt like the distant past. If only Alice would come back. Soon. Before this got any more out of hand. I decided then, seeing him across the lot, that we would talk it out, no excuses. If he still wouldn’t see reason, then I was going to see Carlisle tomorrow. I had to do something.            I reached my truck, my stomach full of knots.            “Do you mind if I come over today?” he asked before I could speak.            “Of course not.”            “Now?” he asked again, opening my door for me.            “Sure,” I kept my voice even, though I didn’t like the urgency in his tone. “I was just going to drop a letter for my mom in the mailbox on the way. I’ll meet you there.”            He looked at the fat envelope on the passenger seat. Suddenly, he reached over me and snagged it.            “I’ll do it,” he said quietly. “And I’ll still beat you there.” He smiled my favorite crooked smile, but it was wrong. It didn’t reach his eyes.            “Okay,” I agreed, unable to smile back. He shut the door, and headed toward his car parked near the back of the lot. As he walked away I realized he was wearing the same outfit he had been wearing the last time I saw him, like he hadn’t changed.            He did beat me home. He was parked in Charlie’s spot when I pulled up in front of the house. That was a bad sign. He didn’t plan to stay, then. I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to build up my courage.            He got out of his ca when I stepped out of the truck, and came to meet me. He reached to take my book bag from me. That was normal. But he shoved it back onto the seat. That was not normal.            “Come for a walk with me,” he suggested in an unemotional voice, taking my hand.            I didn’t answer. I couldn’t think of a way to protest, but I instantly knew that I wanted to. I didn’t like this. This is bad, this is very bad, the voice in my head repeated again and again.            But he didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled me along toward the east side of the yard, where the forest encroached. I followed unwillingly, trying to comprehend the emotions I was feeling. It was what I wanted, I reminded myself. The chance to talk it all through. So why was I feeling so anxious?            We’d gone only a few steps into the trees when he stopped. We were barely on the trail—I could still see the house.            Some walk.            Edward leaned against a tree and stared at me, his expression unreadable.            “Okay, let’s talk,” I said. It sounded braver than I felt.            He took a deep breath.            “Beau, we’re leaving.”            I was confused, I didn’t understand why we would leave so suddenly. College was a year off.            “Why now? Another year—“            “Beau, it’s time. How much longer could we stay in Forks, after all? Carlisle can barely pass for thirty and he’s claiming thirty-three now. We’d have to start over soon regardless.”            His answer confused me even more. I stared at him for a moment.            “I can’t just leave, Edward. Charlie, my friends…” I trailed off.            He stared at me coldly.            I felt my stomach drop, my heart began beating hard. I realized I’d misunderstood.            “When you say we—“            “I mean my family and myself.” Each word separate and distinct.            I shook my head back and forth mechanically, trying to clear it. He waited without any sign of impatience. It took a few minutes before I could speak.            “I’m not sure I understand.”            “We’re leaving. And where we’re going… it’s not the right place for you.”            “But, Edward...”            “I’m not good for you, Beau.”            I stared at him, uncomprehending. “Don’t be ridiculous.”            “My world is not for you,” he said grimly.            “What happened with Jasper—that was nothing, Edward.”            “You’re right,” he agreed. “Nothing compared to what it could have been. In fact, it was exactly what was to be expected.”            “But, but… just leaving?”            “I told you, Beau—“            “You promised me in Phoenix, Edward.” I cut him off. “You promised that we would see this through. You promised you would stay—“            “As long as it was best for you,” he interrupted to correct me.            “What is this about Edward?” I felt the anger in my voice, “Something about souls? About right or wrong? Carlisle told me about all that, and I don’t care. Don’t throw this away because of it. Let’s talk this out, let’s discuss it.”            He took a deep breath and stared, unseeingly at the ground for a long moment. His mouth twisted the tiniest bit. When he finally looked up, his eyes were different, harder—like the liquid gold had frozen solid.            “Beau, I don’t want you to come with me.” He spoke the words slowly and precisely, his cold eyes on my face, watching as I absorbed what he was really saying.            There was a pause as I repeated the words in my head a few times, before understanding came to me.            “You… don’t… want me.” It was a statement, not a question.            “No.”            I felt a wave of sadness hit me hard, coupled by a flicker of anger that I didn’t quite understand. I stared into his eyes. He stared back without apology. His eyes were like topaz—hard and clear and very deep. I felt like I could see into them for miles and miles, yet nowhere in their bottomless depths could I see a contradiction to the word he’d spoken.            “Well, that changes things.” My voice was quiet as the sadness was replaced by an overwhelming numbness. I understood what he was saying, but it didn’t make any sense. Not after this past year, not after what we had been through in just the first months of our life together. Not after everything he had said and promised to me.            He looked away into the trees as he spoke again. “Of course, I’ll always love you… in a way. But what happened the other night made me realize that it’s time for a change. Because I’m… tired of pretending to be something I’m not, Beau. I am not human.” He looked back, and the icy planes of his perfect face were not human. “I’ve let this go on much too long, and I’m sorry for that.”            “Don’t.” My voice was a hoarse whisper, my throat had gone dry. “Don’t do this.”            He just stared at me, and I could see from his eyes that my words were far too late. He already had.            “You’re not good for me, Beau.” He turned his earlier words around, and these hurt more, cut deeper.            “How dare you?” My words surprised me, his eyes flickered minutely. “After everything? After everything you’ve said and promised? After everything I went through just to be with you?”            “It should be so difficult to be with someone.” Was all he said in reply.            I could feel the numbness being replaced by hurt and anger.            “But I made that choice, didn’t I?” I snapped, “I chose this. But maybe I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t made me believe you loved me. If you hadn’t led me on for a year.”            He said nothing, but I saw some tinge of remorse in his face and it gave me some satisfaction. It was short lived as realizing that he regretted leading me on meant that he had, in fact, not loved me like he said. That it was all a lie. A momentary distraction. My anger was thoroughly dwarfed by the sadness again.            “So, that’s it?”            He nodded once.            The numbness flooded back, drowning me.            “I would like to ask one favor, though, if that’s not too much,” he said.            “A favor?” I choked the words out, disbelievingly.            As I watched, his frozen eyes melted. The gold became liquid again, molten, burning down into mine with an intensity that was overwhelming.            “Don’t do anything reckless or dangerous,” he ordered, no longer detached. “Keep yourself safe. Do you understand what I’m saying?”            I could only nod.            His eyes cooled, the distance returned. “I’m thinking of Charlie, of course. He needs you. Take care of yourself—for him.”            I nodded again. “Of course.”            He seemed to relax just a little.            “And I’ll make you a promise in return,” he said. “I promise that this will be the last time you’ll see me. I won’t come back. I won’t put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I’d never existed.”            “Another promise,” I said coldly. I could hear the blood pounding faster than normal behind my ears. His voice sounded farther away.            He smiled gently. “Don’t worry. You’re human—your memory is no more than a sieve. Time heals all would for your kind.”            “And your memories?” I asked. It sounded like there was something stuck in my throat, like I was choking.            “Well”—he hesitated for a short second—“I won’t forget. But my kind… we’re very easily distracted.” He smiled; the smile was tranquil and it did not touch his eyes.            He took a step away from me. “That’s everything, I suppose. We won’t bother you again.”            The plural caught my attention.            “Alice isn’t coming back,” I realized. I don’t know how he heard me—the words made no sound—be he seemed to understand.            He shook his head slowly, always watching my face.            “No. They’re all gone. I stayed behind to tell you goodbye.”            “Alice is gone? Emmett?” My voice was blank with disbelief.            “They wanted to say goodbye, but I convinced them that a clean break would be better for you.”            I felt dizzy; it was hard to concentrate. His words swirled around in my head, and I heard the doctor at the hospital in Phoenix, last spring, as he showed me the X-rays. You can see it’s a clean break, his finger traced along the picture of my severed bone. That’s good. It will heal more easily, more quickly.            I tried to keep my breathing normal, I felt like I was in some sort of dream, or a nightmare.            “Goodbye, Beau,” he said in the same quiet, peaceful voice.            “Wait!” I choked out the word, reaching for him, taking a stumbling step forward.            I thought he was reaching for me, too. But his cold hands locked around my wrists and pinned them to my sides. He leaned down, and pressed his lips very lightly to my forehead for the briefest instant. My eyes closed.            “Take care of yourself,” he breathed, cool against my skin.            There was a light, unnatural breeze. My eyes flashed open. The leaves on a small vine maple shuddered with the gentle wind of his passage.            He was gone.            My body was numb, and my mind went blank. Not knowing why, I stumbled forward through the forest. I knew it was useless, I knew I would never catch up to him, never find him. There were no footprints, the leaves were still again, but I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him then it really was over.            Love… over.            I needed to find him. To tell him how I felt, how hurt I was. I needed to talk, to yell, to cry… something. He was right, I was human. And he had robbed me of a human goodbye, of human closure. He had said his goodbye and left, and left me with nothing—no chance to really say or do anything. It was cold, harsh, selfish… it was cowardly of him. Anger and betrayal fueled my steps now. I walked and walked.            Suddenly, I began to regain a sense of clarity. I would never find him, and worse, I was lost. Very lost. I looked around helplessly, not recognizing anything, seeing no visible path. I felt a twinge of panic join the feelings of hurt, sadness, and betrayal. The panic only mounted as I pushed through the thick undergrowth. Time made no sense as I trudged on. It was hours passing, but also only seconds. The forest looked the same no matter how far I went. I started to worry I was traveling in a circle, a very small circle at that, and the panic mounted. I stumbled often, and, as it grew darker and darker, I fell often, too.            Utterly lost, I began to hyperventilate. My hands tensing and un-tensing, shaking more and more violently. I was completely panicked and scared.            Finally, I tripped over something—it was black now, I had no idea what caught my foot—and I stayed down. I rolled onto my side, trying to breathe, but I was still hyperventilating. Nothing felt real anymore. I was dizzy and nauseous. I curled up on the wet bracken, forcing myself to take measured breaths.            As I lay there, raking in gasping breaths, I had a feeling that more time was passing than I realized. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since nightfall. Was it always so dark here at night? Surely, as a rule, a little bit of moonlight would filter down through the clouds, through the chinks in the canopy of trees, and find ground.            Not tonight. Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonight—a lunar eclipse, a new moon.            A new moon. I shivered, though I wasn’t cold.            It was black for a long time before I heard them calling.            Someone was shouting my name. It was muted, muffled by the wet growth that surrounded me, but it was definitely my name. I didn’t recognize the voice. I tried to answer, but I only heard the strange, strangled gasps coming from my throat. I wondered why I couldn’t speak, it took me a long time to think of a reason and, eventually, the calling stopped.            Sometime later, the rain woke me up. I don’t think I had fallen asleep; probably passed out from hyperventilating. I felt numb still, more numb than I had before and it wasn’t from the cold.            Though I was cold, freezing in fact. The rain bothered me a little, I unwrapped my arms from around my legs to shield my face.            It was then that I heard the calling again. It was farther away this time, and sometimes it sounded like several voices were calling at once. I tried to breathe deeply and answer, but no sound came from my throat.            Suddenly, there was another sound, startlingly close. A kind of snuffling, an animal sound. It sounded big. I felt the panic rise again, overtaking the numbness, but the sound went away.            The rain continued, and I could feel the water pooling up against my cheek. I was trying to gather the strength to get up when I saw the light.            At first it was just a dim glow reflecting off the bushes in the distance. It grew brighter and brighter, illuminating a large space unlike the focused beam of a flashlight. The light broke through the closest brush, and I could see that it was a propane lantern, but that was all I could see—the brightness blinded me for a moment.            “Beau.”            The voice was deep and unfamiliar, but full of recognition. He wasn’t calling my name to search, he was acknowledging that I was found.            I stared up—impossibly high it seemed—at the dark face hat I could now see above me. I was vaguely away that the stranger probably only looked so tall because my head was still on the ground.            “Have you been hurt?”            I tried to respond, but still no sound came from my lips. I only stared.            “Beau, my name is Sam Uley.”            There was nothing familiar about this name.            “Charlie sent me to look for you.”            Charlie? Charlie was looking for me, and Charlie mattered. I needed to get up.            The tall man held out a hand. I tried to reach out to grab it, but my own had was shaking violently and I wasn’t sure why.            His black eyes looked concerned. In a quick and supple motion, he pulled me up from the ground and into his arms.            I didn’t feel cold anymore as he held me, loping swiftly through the wet forest. Some part of me knew this should upset me—being carried away by a stranger. But my mind wasn’t able to focus right now. I hooked my arms around his neck, and buried my head in his shoulder.            It didn’t seem like too much time passed before I heard the deep babble of many mae voices. Same Uley slowed as he approached the commotion.            “I’ve got him!” he called in a booming voice that rumbled from his chest and through my body.            The babble ceased, and then picked up again with more intensity. A confusing swirl of faces moved over me. Sam’s voice was the only one that made sense in the chaos, perhaps because face was still buried in his shoulder.            “No, I don’t think he’s hurt,” he told someone. “He’s shaking though, pretty badly.”            I wasn’t cold anymore, at least I didn’t think I was.            “He wouldn’t say,” Sam continued, “All he said was ‘He’s gone.’”            Had I said that? I didn’t recall.            “Beau, son, are you all right?”            That was one voice I would know anywhere—even distorted, as it was now, with worry.            “Charlie?” I turned my head slowly, my voice sounded strange and weak.            “I’m right here, Beau.”            I felt a hand on the back of my head, “Why is he shaking so bad?”            “Let’s get him inside,” Sam Uley suggested.            He walked quickly, I wished I could tell him to put me down and let me walk, but I couldn’t find my voice. I managed to finally open my eyes.            There were lights everywhere, held by the crowd walking with Sam and Charlie. It felt like a parade. Or a funeral procession. I closed my eyes again.            “We’re almost home now,” I heard Charlie mumble now and then.            I opened my eyes again when I heard the door unlock. We were on the porch of our house, and Charlie was holding the door open for Sam.            Sam carried me to the couch in the living room.            “I’m all wet,” I objected feebly.            “It’s all right,” I heard Charlie say gruffly. And then he was talking to someone else. “Blankets are in the cupboard at the top of the stairs.”            “Beau?” It was Sam’s voice, very low and soft. “You can let go now, you’re home.”            I realized I hadn’t released my grip on Sam’s neck, I let go and wrapped my arms around me tightly. As soon as he moved away I suddenly felt freezing cold.            “Beau?” a new voice asked. I looked at the gray-haired woman leaning over me, and recognition came after a few slow seconds.            “Dr. Gerandy?” I mumbled.            “That’s right, dear,” she said. “Are you hurt, Beau?”            It took me a minute to think that through. I was confused by the memory of Sam Uley’s similar question in the woods. Only Sam had asked something else: Have you been hurt? He’d said. The different seemed significant somehow.            Dr. Gerandy was waiting. One eyebrow rose, and the wrinkles on her forehead deepened.            “I’m not hurt,” I said quietly. Not physically, at least.            Her warm hand touched my forehead, and her fingers pressed against the inside of my wrist. I watched her lips as she counted to herself, her eyes on her watch.            “What happened to you?” she asked gently.            I froze under her hand, feeling panic and anxiety.            “Did you get lost in the woods?” she prodded. I was aware of several other people listening. Three tall men with dark faces, from La Push, the Quileute Indian reservation down the coastline, I guessed—Sam Uley among them, were standing very close together and staring t me. Mr. Newton was there with Mike and Mr. Weber, Angela’s father; they were all watching me more surreptitiously than the strangers. Other deep voices rumbled from the kitchen and outside the front door. Half the town must have been looking for me.            Charlie was the closest. He leaned in to hear my answer.            “Yes,” I whispered. “I got lost.”            The doctor nodded, thoughtful, her fingers probing gently against the glands under my jaw. Charlie’s face hardened.            “Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?” Dr. Gerandy asked.            I closed my eyes and nodded.            “I think he had a severe panic attack, probably induced from being lost in the woods,” I heard the doctor mutter to Charlie after a moment. “He should be fine now. Let him sleep it off, and I’ll come check on him tomorrow,” she paused. She must have looked at her watch, because she added, “Well, later today actually.”            There was a creaking sound as they both pushed off from the couch to get to their feet.            “Is it true?” Charlie whispered. Their voices were farther away now. I strained to hear. “Did they leave?”            “Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything,” Dr. Gerandy answered. “The offer was very sudden; they had to choose immediately. Carlisle didn’t want to make a big production out of leaving.”            “A little warning might have been nice,” Charlie grumbled.            Dr. Gerandy changed the subject, “Does Beau have a history of panic attacks?”            Charlie’s response was delayed, like something was on his mind, “Not in years.”            “If they continue, I can prescribe something.” Dr. Gerandy said softly.            I stopped listening. I was drifting in and out of alertness. I heard Charlie whisper thanks to the volunteers as, one by one, they left. I felt his fingers on my forehead, and then the weight of another blanket. The phone rang a few times, and he hurried to catch it before it could wake me. He muttered reassurances in a low voice to the callers.            “Yeah, we found him. He’s okay. He got lost. He’s fine now,” he said again and again.            I heard the springs in the armchair groan when he settled himself in for the night.            A few minutes later, the phone rang again.            Charlie moaned as he struggled to his feet, and then he rushed, stumbling to the kitchen. I pulled my head deeper under the blankets not wanting to listen to the same conversation again.            “Yeah,” Charlie said, and yawned.            His voice changed, it was much more alert when he spoke again. “Where?” There was a pause. “You sure it’s outside the reservation?” Another short pause. “But what could be burning out there?” He sounded both worried and mystified. “Look, I’ll call down there and check it out.”            I listened with more interest as he punched in a number.            “Hey, Billy, it’s Charlie—sorry I’m calling so early… no, he’s fine. He’s sleeping… Thanks, but that’s not why I called. I just got a call from Mrs. Stanley, and she says that from her second-story window she can see fires out on the sea cliffs, but I didn’t really… Oh!” Suddenly there was an edge in his voice—irritation… or anger. “And why are they doing that? Uh huh. Really?” He said it sarcastically. “Well, don’t apologize to me. Yeah, yeah. Just make sure the flames don’t spread… I know, I know, I’m surprised they got them lit at all in this weather.”            Charlie hesitated, and then added grudgingly. “Thanks for sending Sam and the other boys up. You were right—they do know the forest better than we do. It was Sam who found him, so I owe you one… Yeah, I’ll talk to you later,” he agreed, still sour, before hanging up.            Charlie muttered something incoherent as he shuffled back to the living room.            “What’s wrong?” I asked.            He hurried to my side.            “I’m sorry I woke you, kiddo.”            “Is something burning?”            “It’s nothing,” he assured me. “Just some bonfires out on the cliffs.”            “Bonfires?” I asked. My voice didn’t sound curious. It sounded dead.            Charlie frowned. “Some of the kids from the reservation being rowdy,” he explained.            “Why?” I wondered dully.            I could tell he didn’t want to answer. He looked at the floor under his knees. “They’re celebrating the news.” His tone was bitter.            There was only one piece of news I could think of, try as I might not to. And then the pieces snapped together. “Because the Cullens left,” I whispered. “They don’t like the Cullens in La Push— I’d forgotten about that.”            The Quileutes had their superstitions about the “cold ones,” the blood-drinkers that were enemies to their tribe, just like they had their legends of the great flood and wolf-men ancestors. Just stories, folklore, to most of them. Then there were the few that believed. Charlie’s good friend Billy Black believed, though even Jacob, his own son, thought he was full of stupid superstitions. Billy had warned me to stay away from the Cullens.…            The name stirred something inside me, something that began to claw its way toward the surface, something I knew I didn’t want to face.            “It’s ridiculous,” Charlie spluttered.            We sat in silence for a moment. The sky was no longer black outside the window. Somewhere behind the rain, the sun was beginning to rise.            “Beau?” Charlie asked.            I looked at him uneasily.            “He left you alone in the woods?” Charlie guessed.            I deflected his question. “How did you know where to find me?” My mind shied away from the inevitable awareness that was coming, coming quickly now.            “Your note,” Charlie answered, surprised. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a much-abused piece of paper. It was dirty and damp, with multiple creases from being opened and refolded many times. He unfolded it again, and held it up as evidence. The messy handwriting was remarkably close to my own.            Going for a walk with Edward, up the path, it said, Back soon, B.            “When you didn’t come back, I tried calling your phone but you didn’t answer. I called the Cullens, and no one answered there, either,” Charlie said in a low voice. “I found your phone in your school bag in the truck and I got worried, so I called the hospital, and Dr. Gerandy told me that Carlisle was gone.”            “Where did they go?” I mumbled.            He stared at me. “Didn’t Edward tell you?”            I shook my head. The sound of his name unleashed the thing that was clawing inside of me—a pain, mingled with anger that knocked me breathless, astonished me with its force.            Charlie eyed me doubtfully as he answered. “Carlisle took a job with a big hospital in Los Angeles. I guess they threw a lot of money at him.”            Sunny L.A. The last place they would really go. I remembered my nightmare with the mirror… the bright sunlight shimmering off his skin--            Agony ripped through me with the memory of his face.            “I want to know if Edward left you alone out there in the middle of the woods,” Charlie insisted.            His name sent another wave of emotion through me. I hesitated, but ultimately shook my head. “He left me right here on the trail, in sight of the house… but I tried to follow him.”            Charlie started to say something; I cut him off. “I want to go to my room and lay down, I can’t talk about this right now, Dad. I’m sorry.”            He sighed, and nodded gently. I forced myself off the couch, I felt heavy. I noticed my school bag sitting on the floor by the stairs. I scooped it up as I forced myself up the stairs.            Then the thought hit me.            Someone had been in the house to leave a note for Charlie, a note that would lead him to find me. A horrible suspicion began to grow in my head. I rushed to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me before I ran to the CD player by my bed.            Everything looked exactly the same as I’d left it. I pressed down on the top of the CD player. The latch unhooked, and the lid slowly swung open.            It was empty.            I fished my phone out of my school bag and pressed the button on the front. The wallpaper on the screen was the picture of me and Charlie. I frantically scrolled through the photos folder on the phone—my room, me and Charlie, the truck, the house, my friends… No Edward.            The album Renée had given me sat on the floor beside the bed, just where I’d put it last. I lifted the cover with a shaking hand.            I didn’t have to flip any farther than the first page. The little metal corners no longer held a picture in place. The page was blank except for my own handwriting scrawled across the bottom: Edward Cullen, Charlie’s kitchen, Sept. 13th.            I stopped there. I was sure that he would have been very thorough.            It will be as if I’d never existed, he’d promised me.            I dropped the book on the floor and sat slowly on the bed. It was over. Break ups happen, sure, but this felt different. At least, I thought it felt different. I had nothing to compare it to. But I had nearly died just to be with Edward, I had nearly given up everything for him, we had promised each other forever. And now, he was gone. Just like that. So easily.            It was then that I realized how foolish I had been. The waves of heartache that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under.            I had given Edward Cullen too much, and now I had nothing left.

Carlisle was the only one who stayed calm. Centuries of experience in the emergency room were evident in his quiet, authoritative voice.            “Emmett, Royal, get Jasper outside.”            Unsmiling for once, Emmett nodded. “Come on, Jasper.”            Jasper struggled against Emmett’s unbreakable grasp, twisting around, reaching toward his brother with his bared teeth, his eyes still past reason.            Edward’s face was whiter than bone as he wheeled to crouch over me, taking a clearly defensive position. A low warning growl slid from between his clenched teeth. I could tell that he wasn’t breathing.            Royal, his divine face twisted into an unreadable expression, stepped in front of Jasper—keeping a careful distance from his teeth—and helped Emmett wrestle him through the glass door that Esme held open, one hand pressed over her mouth and nose.            Esme’s heart-shaped face was ashamed. “I’m so sorry, Beau,” she cried as she followed the others into the yard.            “Let me by, Edward,” Carlisle murmured.            A second passed, and then Edward nodded slowly and relaxed his stance.            Carlisle knelt beside me, leaning close to examine my arm. I could feel the shock frozen on my face, and I tried to compose it.            “Here, Carlisle,” Alice said, handing him a towel.            He shook his head. “Too much glass in the wound.” He reached over and ripped a long, thin scrap from the bottom of the white tablecloth.            He twisted it around my arm above the elbow to form a tourniquet. The smell of the blood was making me dizzy. My ears rang.            “Beau,” Carlisle said softly. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital, or would you like me to take care of it here?”            “Here, please,” I whispered. If he took me to the hospital, there would be no way to keep this from Charlie.            “I’ll get your bag,” Alice said.            “Let’s take him to the kitchen table,” Carlisle said to Edward.            Edward lifted me effortlessly, while Carlisle kept the pressure steady on my arm.            “How are you doing, Beau?” Carlisle asked.            “I’m fine.” My voice was reasonably steady, which pleased me.            Edward’s face was like stone.            Alice was there. Carlisle’s black bag was already on the table, a small but brilliant desk light plugged into the wall. Edward sat me gently into a chair, and Carlisle pulled up another. He went to work at once.            Edward stood over me, still protective, still not breathing.            “It’s okay, Edward. You can go.” I sighed.            “I can handle it,” he insisted. But his jaw was rigid; his eyes burned with the intensity of the thirst he fought, so much worse for him than it was for the others.            “You don’t need to torture yourself,” I said. “Carlisle can fix me up. Get some fresh air.”            I winced as Carlisle did something to my arm that stung.            “I’ll stay,” he said.            “Why are you so masochistic?” I mumbled.            Carlisle decided to intercede. “Edward, you may as well go find Jasper before he gets too far. I’m sure he’s upset with himself, and I doubt he’ll listen to anyone but you right now.”            “Yes,” I eagerly agreed. “Go find Jasper.”            “You might as well do something useful,” Alice added.            Edward’s eyes narrowed as we ganged up on him, but, finally, he nodded once and sprinted smoothly through the kitchen’s back door. I was sure he hadn’t taken a breath since I’d sliced my finger.            A numb, dead feeling was spreading through my arm. Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, and I watched Carlisle’s face carefully to distract me from what his hands were doing. His hair gleamed gold in the bright light as he bent over my arm. I could feel the faint stirrings of unease in the pit of my stomach, but I was determined not to let my usual squeamishness get the best of me. There was no pain now, just a gentle tugging sensation that I tried to ignore.            If she hadn’t been in my line of sight, I wouldn’t have noticed Alice give up and steal out of the room. With a tiny, apologetic smile on her lips, she disappeared through the kitchen doorway.            “Well, that’s everyone,” I sighed. “I can clear a room, at least.”            “It’s not your fault,” Carlisle comforted me with a chuckle. “It could happen to anyone.”            “But it would be my luck that it would happen to me.” I replied.            He laughed again.            His relaxed calm was only more amazing set in direct contrast with everyone else’s reaction. I couldn’t find any trace of anxiety in his face. He worked with quick, sure movements. The only sound besides our quiet breathing was the soft plink, plink as the tiny fragments of glass dropped one by one to the table.            “How can you do this?” I asked quietly. “Even Alice and Esme…” I trailed off, shaking my head in wonder. Though the rest of them had given up the traditional diet of vampires just as absolutely as Carlisle had, he was the only one who could bear the smell of my blood without suffering from the intense temptation. Clearly, this was much more difficult than he made it seem.            “Years and years of practice,” he told me. “I barely notice the scent anymore.”            “Do you think it would be harder if you took a vacation from the hospital for a long time? And weren’t around any blood?”            “Maybe.” He shrugged his shoulders, but his hands remained steady. “I’ve never felt the need for an extended holiday.” He flashed a brilliant smile in my direction. “I enjoy my work too much.”            Plink, plink, plink. I was surprised at how much glass there seemed to be in my arm. I was tempted to glance at the growing pile, just to check the size, but I realized that probably wasn’t the best idea.            “What is it that you enjoy?” I wondered. It didn’t make sense to me—the years of struggle and self-denial he must have spent to get to the point where he could endure this so easily. Besides, I wanted to keep him talking; the conversation kept my mind off the queasy feeling in my stomach.            His dark eyes were calm and thoughtful as he answered. “Hmm. What I enjoy the very most is when my… enhanced abilities let me save someone who would otherwise have been lost. It’s pleasant knowing that, thanks to what I do, some people’s live are better because I exist. Even the sense of smell is a useful diagnostic tool at times.” One side of this mouth pulled up in half a smile.            I mulled that over while he poked around, making sure all the glass splinters were gone. Then he rummaged in his bag for new tools, and I tried not to picture a needle and thread.            “You try very hard to make up for something that was never your fault,” I suggested while a new kind of tugging started at the edges of my skin. “What I mean is, it’s not like you asked for this. You didn’t choose this kind of life, and yet you have to work so hard to be good.”            “I don’t know that I’m making up for anything,” he disagreed lightly. “Like everything in life, I just had to decide what to do with what I was given.”            “That makes it sound too easy.”            He examined my arm again. “There,” he said, snipping a thread. “All done.” He wiped an oversized Q-tip, dripping with some syrup-colored liquid, thoroughly across the operation site. The smell was strange; it made my head spin. The syrup stained my skin.            “In the beginning, though,” I pressed while he taped another long piece of gauze securely in place, sealing it to my skin. “Why did you even think to try a different way than the obvious one?”            His lips turned up in a private smile. “Hasn’t Edward told you this story?”            “Yes. But I’m trying to understand what you were thinking…”            His face was suddenly serious again, and I wondered if his thoughts had gone to the same place that mine had. Wondering what I might be thinking if it were me.            “You know my father was a clergyman,” he mused as he cleaned the table carefully, rubbing everything down with wet gauze, and then doing it again. The smell of alcohol burned in my nose. “He had a rather harsh view of the world, which I was already beginning to question before the time that I changed.” Carlisle put all the dirty gauze and the glass slivers into an empty crystal bowl. I didn’t understand what he was doing, even when he lit the match. Then he threw it onto the alcohol-soaked fibers, and the sudden blaze made me jump.            “Sorry,” he apologized. “That ought to do it… So I didn’t agree with my father’s particular brand of faith. But never, in the nearly four hundred years now since I was born, have I ever seen anything to make me doubt whether God exists in some form or the other. Not even the reflection in the mirror.”            I pretended to examine the dressing on my arm to hide my surprise at the direction our conversation had taken. Religion was the last thing I expected, all things considered. I had never had any beliefs of my own. Charlie considered himself a Lutheran, because that’s what his parents had been, but Sundays he worshipped by the river with a fishing pole in his hand. My mom had never been the church-going type.            “I’m sure all this sound a little bizarre, coming from a vampire.” He grinned, knowing how their casual use of that word never failed to shock me. “But I’m hoping that there is still a point to this life, even for us. It’s a long shot, I’ll admit,” he continued in an offhand voice. “By all accounts, we’re damned regardless. But I hope, maybe foolishly, that we’ll get some measure of credit for trying.”            “I don’t think that’s foolish,” I mumbled. I couldn’t imagine anyone, deity included, who wouldn’t be impressed by Carlisle. “And I don’t think anyone else would, either.”            “Actually, you’re the very first one to agree with me.”            “The rest of them don’t feel the same?” I asked, surprised, thinking of one person in particular.            Carlisle guessed the direction of my thoughts again. “Edward’s with me up to a point. God and heaven exist… and so does hell. But he doesn’t believe there is an afterlife for our kind.” Carlisle’s voice was very soft; he stared out the big window over the sink, into the darkness. “You see, he thinks we’ve lost our souls.”            I immediately thought of Edward’s words this afternoon: unless you want to die—or whatever it is that we do. I had a sudden realization in that moment.            “That’s it, isn’t it?” I guessed. “That’s why Edward doesn’t want to change me.”            I had my own reservations about becoming like Edward, but his strange and unexplained reluctance constantly perplexed me.            Carlisle spoke slowly. “I look at my… son. His strength, his goodness, the brightness that shines out of him—and it only fuels that hope, that faith, more than ever. How could there not be more for one such as Edward?”            I nodded in agreement.            “But if I believed as he does…” He looked down at me with his unfathomable eyes. “If you believed as he did. Could you take away his soul?”            The way he phrased the question gave me pause. Would I risk Edward’s soul? I pursed my lips.            “You see the problem.”            I shook my head slowly.            “It would be my choice, though,” I said quietly.            “It’s his, too.” He replied. “Whether he is responsible for doing that to you.”            “He’s not the only one able to do it.” I shrugged, “If he doesn’t want the responsibility.” I eyed Carlisle speculatively.            He laughed, abruptly lightening the mood. “Oh, no! You’re going to have to work this out with him.” But then he sighed. “That’s the one part I can never be sure of. I think, in most other ways, that I’ve done the best I could with what I had to work with. But was it right to doom the others to this life? I can’t decide.”            I didn’t answer. It was a sobering thought.            “It was Edward’s mother who made up my mind.” Carlisle’s voice was almost a whisper. He stared unseeingly out the black windows.            “His mother?” Whenever I’d asked Edward about his parents, he would merely say that they had died long ago, and his memories were vague. I realized Carlisle’s memory of them, despite the brevity of their contact, would be perfectly clear.            “Yes. Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Masen. His father, Edward Senior, never regained consciousness in the hospital. He died in the first wave of the influenza. But Elizabeth was alert until almost the very end. Edward looks a great deal like her—she had that same strange bronze shade to her hair, and her eyes were exactly the same color green.”            “His eyes were green?” I tried to picture it.            “Yes…” Carlisle’s ocher eyes were a hundred years away now. “Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. When the end came for her, it was very quick. It was just after sunset, and I’d arrived to relieve the doctor’s who’d been working all day. That was a hard time to pretend—there was so much work to be done, and I had no need of rest. I hated to go back to my house, to hide in the dark and pretend to sleep while so many were dying.            “I went to check Elizabeth and her son first. I’d grown attached—always a dangerous thing to do considering the fragile nature of humans. I could see at once that she’d taken a bad turn. The fever was raging out of control, and her body was too weak to fight anymore.            “She didn’t look weak, though, when she glared up at me from her cot.            “’Save him!’ she commanded me in the hoarse voice that was all her throat could manage.            “’I’ll do everything in my power,’ I promised her, taking her hand. The fever was so high, she probably couldn’t even tell how unnaturally cold mine felt. Everything felt cold to her skin.            “’You must,’ she insisted, clutching at my hand with enough strength that I wondered if she wouldn’t pull through the crisis after all. Her eyes were hard, like stones, like emeralds. ‘You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward.’            “It frightened me. She looked at me with those piercing eyes, and, for one instant, I felt certain she knew my secret. Then the fever overwhelmed her, and she never regained consciousness. She died within an hour of making her demand.            “I’d spent decades considering the idea of creating a companion for myself. Just one other creature who could really know me, rather than what I pretended to be. But I could never justify it to myself—doing what had been done to me.            “There Edward lay, dying. It was clear that he only had hours left. Beside him, his mother, her face somehow not yet peaceful, not even in death.”            Carlisle saw it all again, his memory unmarred by the intervening century. I could see it clearly, too, as he spoke—the despair of the hospital, the overwhelming atmosphere of death. Edward burning with fever, his life slipping away with each tick of the clock… I shuddered again, and forced the picture from my mind.            “Elizabeth’s words echoed in my head. How could she guess what I could do? Could anyone really want that for her son?            “I looked at Edward. Sick as he was, he was still beautiful. There was something pure and good about his face. The kind of face I would have wanted my son to have.            “After all those years of indecision, I simply acted on a whim. I wheeled his mother to the morgue first, and then came back for him. No one noticed that he was still breathing. There wasn’t enough hands, enough eyes, to keep track of half of what the patients needed. The morgue was empty—of the living, at least. I stole him out the back door, and carried him across the rooftops back to my home.            “I wasn’t sure what had to be done. I settled for recreating the wounds I’d received myself, so many centuries earlier in London. I felt bad about that later. It was more painful and lingering than necessary.            “I wasn’t sorry, though. I’ve never been sorry that I saved Edward.” He shook his head, coming back to the present. He smiled at me. “I suppose I should take you home now.”            “I’ll do that,” Edward said. He came through the shadowy dining room, walking slowly for him. His face was smooth, unreadable, but there was something wrong with his eyes—something he was trying very hard to hide. I felt a spasm of unease in my stomach.            “Carlisle can take me,” I said. I looked down at my shirt; the light blue cotton was soaked and spotted with my blood. My right shoulder was covered in thick red frosting.            “I’m fine.” Edward’s voice was unemotional. “You’ll need to change anyway. You’d give Charlie a heart attack the way you look. I’ll have Alice get you something.” He strode out the kitchen door again.            I looked at Carlisle anxiously. “He’s very upset.”            “Yes,” Carlisle agreed. “Tonight is exactly the kind of thing that he fears the most. You being put in danger, because of what we are.”            “It’s not his fault.”            “It’s not yours, either.”            I looked away from his wise, beautiful eyes. I couldn’t help but disagree with him a little.            Carlisle offered me his hand and helped me up from the table. I followed him out into the main room. Esme had come back; she was mopping the floor where I’d fallen—with straight bleach from the smell of it.            “Esme, let me do that.” I could feel my face was bright red again.            “I’m already done.” She smiled up at me. “How do you feel?”            “I’m fine,” I assured her. “Carlisle sews faster than any other doctor I’ve had.”            They both chuckled.            Alice and Edward came in the back doors. Alice hurried to my side, but Edward hung back, his face indecipherable.            “C’mon,” Alice said. “I’ll get you something less macabre to wear.”            Once we were upstairs, she presented me with a beautiful, expensive-looking, dark blue shirt—the color Edward loved to see me in.            “It’s one of your gifts.” She explained.            “Thank you, Alice.” I said taking the shirt from her. “Alice,” I whispered as she headed back to the door.            “Yes?” She kept her voice low, too, and looked at me curiously, her head cocked to the side.            “How bad is it?” I couldn’t be sure if my whispering was a wasted effort. Even though we were upstairs perhaps he could hear me.            Her face tensed. “I’m not sure yet.”            “How’s Jasper?”            She sighed. “He’s very unhappy with himself. It’s all so much more of a challenge for him, and he hates feeling weak.”            “It’s not his fault. You’ll tell him that I’m not mad at him, not at all, won’t you?”            “Of course.”            I changed my shirt quickly after she left, the long sleeves concealed the bandages so Charlie wouldn’t worry. Edward was waiting for me by the front door. As I got to the bottom of the staircase, he held it open without a word.            “Take your things!” Alice cried as I walked warily toward Edward. She scooped up the remaining two packages, one half-opened, and my phone from under the piano, and pressed them into my good arm. “You can thank me later, when you’ve opened them.”            Esme and Carlisle both said a quiet goodnight. I could see them stealing quick glances at their impassive son, much like I was.            It was a relief to be outside; I hurried past the lanterns and the tulips, now sad reminders. Edward kept pace with me silently. He opened the passenger side for me, and I climbed in without complaint.            On the dashboard was a big red ribbon, stuck to the new stereo. I ran my finger along the ribbon before pulling it off and setting it under my seat.            He didn’t look at me or the stereo. Neither of us switched it on, and the silence was somehow intensified by the sudden thunder of the engine. He drove too fast down the dark, serpentine lane.            The silence was making me insane.            “Say something,” I finally whispered as he turned onto the freeway.            “What do you want me to say?” he asked in a detached voice.            I cringed at his tone. “I don’t know. Tell me why you’re mad at me.”            That brought a flicker of life to his face—a flicker of anger. “Mad at you? For what?”            “I could have been more careful, nothing would have happened.”            “Beau, you gave yourself a paper cut—that hardly deserves the death penalty.”            “I know that, but still—“            He cut me off with a flood of words.            “If you’d cut yourself at Mike Newton’s house, with Jessica there and Angela and your other normal friends, the worst that could possibly have happened would be what? Maybe they couldn’t find you a bandage? If you’d tripped and knocked over a pile of glass plates on your own—without someone throwing you into them—even then, what’s the worst? You’d get blood on the seats when they drove you to the emergency room? Mike Newton could have held your hand while they stitched you up—and he wouldn’t be fighting the urge to kill you the whole time he was there. Don’t try to take any of this on yourself, Beau. It will only make me more disgusted with myself.”            “How the hell did Mike Newton end up in this conversation?” I demanded.            “Mike Newton ended up in this conversation because Mike Newton would be a hell of a lot healthier for you to be with,” he growled.            “I have no interest in Mike Newton,” I protested. “You’re the only one I want to be with.”            “Don’t be so sure.”            “You need to calm down.”            He didn’t respond. He glared through the windshield, his expression black.            I racked my brain for some way to salvage the evening. When we pulled up in front of my house, I still hadn’t come up with anything.            He killed the engine, but his hands stayed clenched around the steering wheel.            “Will you stay tonight?” I asked.            “I should go home.”            The last thing I wanted was for him to go wallow in remorse.            “For my birthday,” I pressed.            “You can’t have it both ways—either you want people to ignore your birthday or you don’t. One or the other.” His voice was stern, but not as serious as before. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.            “Okay. I’ve decided that I don’t want you to ignore my birthday. I’ll see you upstairs.”            I hopped out, reaching back in for my packages. He frowned.            “You don’t have to take those.”            “I want them,” I replied.            “No, you don’t. Carlisle and Esme spent money on you.”            “I took the shirt didn’t I?” I gestured to the dark blue shirt before tucking the presents awkwardly under my good arm and slamming the door behind me. He was out of the truck and by my side in less than a second.            “Let me carry them, at least,” he said as he took them away. “I’ll be in your room.”            I smiled. “Thanks.”            “Happy birthday,” he sighed, and leaned down to touch his lips to mine.            I reached up on my toes to make the kiss last longer when he pulled away. He smiled my favorite crooked smile, and then he disappeared into the darkness.            The game was still on; as soon as I walked through the front door I could hear the announcer rambling over the babble of the crowd.            “Beau?” Charlie called.            “Hey, Dad,” I said as I came around the corner. I held my arm close to my side. The slight pressure burned, and I wrinkled my nose. The anesthetic was apparently losing its effectiveness.            “How was it?” Charlie lounged across the sofa with his bare feet propped up on the arm. His curly brown hair was crushed flat on one side.            “Alice went overboard. Flowers, cake, candles, presents—the whole bit.”            “What did they get you?”            “A stereo for my truck,” and I added quickly, “this shirt, too.”            “Wow.”            “Yeah,” I agreed. “Well, I’m calling it a night.”            “I’ll see you in the morning.”            “Goodnight, Dad.”            I hurried up to the bathroom, where I kept my pajamas for just such nights as these. I shrugged into the tank top and cotton pants that’d I’d gotten to replace the holey sweats I used to wear to bed, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches. I washed my face one-handed, brushed my teeth, and then skipped to my room.            He was sitting in the center of my bed, toying idly with one of the silver boxes.            “Hi,” he said. His voice was sad. He was wallowing.            I went to the bed, pushed the presents out of his hands, and climbed into his lap.            “Hi.” I snuggled into his stone chest. “Can I open my presents now?”            “Where did the enthusiasm come from?” he teased.            “I’m curious!”            I picked up the long flat rectangle that must have been from Carlisle and Esme.            “Allow me,” he suggested. He took the gift from my hand tore the silver paper off with one fluid movement. He handed the rectangular white box back to me.            “Are you sure I can handle lifting the lid?” I muttered, but he ignored me.            Inside the box was a long thick piece of paper with an overwhelming amount of fine print. It took me a minute to get the gist of the information.            “We’re going to Jacksonville?” And I couldn’t contain my excitement. It was a voucher for plane tickets, for both me and Edward.            “That’s the idea.”            “I can’t believe it. My mom is going to flip! You don’t mind, though, do you? It’s sunny, you’ll have to stay inside all day.”            “I think I can handle it,” he said, and then frowned. “If I’d had any idea that you would respond to your gifts this way, I would have made you open it in front of Carlisle and Esme. I thought you’d complain.”            “I’d never complain, maybe protest a bit.”            He chuckled. “Now I wish I’d spent money on your present. I didn’t think you’d be this reasonable.”            I set the tickets aside and reached for his present, my curiosity rekindled. He took it from me and unwrapped it like the first one.            He handed back a clear CD jewel case, with a blank silver CD inside.            “What is it?” I asked, perplexed.            He didn’t say anything; he took the CD and reached around me to put it in the CD player on the bedside table. He hit play, and we waited in silence. Then the music began.            I listened, speechless and wide-eyed. I knew he was waiting for my reaction, but I couldn’t talk. Tears welled up, and I reached up to wipe them away before they could spill over.            “Does your arm hurt?” he asked anxiously.            “No, it’s not my arm. It’s beautiful, Edward. You couldn’t gave given me anything I would love more. I can’t believe it.” I stopped talking so I could listen.            It was his music, his compositions. The first piece on the CD was my lullaby.            “I didn’t think you would let me get a piano so I could play for you here,” he explained.            “You would be right.”            “How does your arm feel?”            “Just fine.” Actually, it was starting to blaze under the bandage. I wanted ice. I would have settled for his hand, but that would have given me away.            “I’ll get you some Tylenol.”            “I don’t need anything,” I protested, but he slid me off his lap and headed for the door.            “Charlie,” I hissed. Charlie wasn’t exactly aware that Edward frequently stayed over. In fact, he would have a stroke if that fact were brought to his attention. But I consoled myself with the fact that we weren’t doing anything too bad. Our physical rules…            “He won’t catch me,” Edward promised as he disappeared silently out the door… and returned, catching the door before it had swung back to touch the frame. He had the glass rom the bathroom and the bottle of pills in one hand.            I took the pills he handed me gratefully—my arm was really starting to bother me.            My lullaby continued, soft and lovely, in the background.            “It’s late,” Edward noted. He scooped me up off the bed with one arm, and pulled the cover back with the other. He put me down with my head on the pillow and tucked the quilt around me. He lay down next to me—on top of the blanket so I wouldn’t get chilled—and put his arm over me.            I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed happily.            “Thanks again,” I whispered.            “You’re welcome.”            It was quiet for a long moment as I listened to my lullaby drift to a close. Another song began. I recognized Esme’s favorite.            “What are you thinking about?” I asked softly.            He hesitated for a second before he told me. “I was thinking about right and wrong, actually.”            I felt a chill tingle along my spine.            “Remember how I decided that I wanted you to not ignore my birthday?” I asked quickly, hoping it wasn’t too clear that I was trying to distract him.            “Yes,” he agreed, wary.            “Well, I was thinking, since it’s still my birthday, that I’d like you to kiss me again.”            “You’re greedy tonight.”            “Yes, I am—but please, don’t do anything you don’ want to do,” I added, piqued.            He laughed, and then sighed. “Heaven forbid that I should do anything I don’t want to do,” he said in a strangely desperate tone as he put his hand under my chin and pulled my face up to his.            The kiss began much the same as usual—Edward was as careful as ever, and my heart began to beat wildly like it usually did. And then something seemed to change. Suddenly his lips became much more urgent; his free hand twisted into my hair and held my face securely to his. And, though my hands tangled in his hair, too, and though we were clearly beginning to cross our cautious lines, neither of us seemed to think to stop. His body was cold through the thin quilt, but I crushed myself against him eagerly. His response was immediate and frantic; effortlessly rolling my body on top of his own. One of his hands remained in my hair, the other wrapped around my waist and pulled me in deeper. I felt myself becoming light-headed from the lack of oxygen and his hand was beginning to find its way under my tank top. I felt his ice cold hand suddenly on the bare skin of my waist, under the tank top; the chill made me gasp.            Finally, I gently, but firmly, pushed myself away—desperate for air.            I rolled off him, collapsing back onto my pillow, gasping, my head spinning. Something tugged at my memory, elusive, on the edges.            “Sorry,” he said, and he was breathless, too. “That was out of line.”            “One hell of a birthday kiss,” I panted.            “Try to sleep, Beau.” His voice was quiet in the darkness.            “After that?” I scoffed, “I want you  to kiss me again.”            “You’re overestimating my self-control.”            “Which is tempting you more, my blood or my body?” I challenged.            He let out a soft, frustrated moan. “It’s a tie.” He grinned briefly, and then was serious again. “Now, why don’t you stop pushing your luck and go to sleep?”            “Fine,” I agreed, snuggling closer to him. I really did feel exhausted. It had been a long day in so many ways, yet I felt no sense of relief at its end. Almost as if something worse was coming tomorrow. It was a silly premonition—what could be worse than today? Just the shock catching up with me, no doubt.            Trying to be sneaky about it, I pressed my injured arm against his shoulder, so his cool skin would sooth the burning. It felt better at once.            I was halfway asleep, maybe more, when I realized what his kiss had reminded me of: last spring, when he’d had to leave me to throw James off my trail, Edward had kissed me goodbye, not knowing when—or if—we would see each other again. This kiss had the same almost painful edge for some reason I couldn’t imagine. I shuddered into unconsciousness, as if I were already having a nightmare.

I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure I was dreaming.            The reasons I was so certain were that, first, I was standing in a bright shaft of sunlight—the kind of blinding clear sun that never shone on my drizzly new hometown in Forks, Washington—and second, I was looking at my Grandpa Michael. Gramps had been dead for six years, so that was solid evidence toward the dream theory.            Gramps hadn’t changed much; his face looked just the same as I remembered it. The skin was soft and withered, bent into a thousand tiny creases that clung gently to the bone underneath. Like a dried apricot, but with a mess of thick white hair hanging from it.            Our mouths—his a wizened pucker—spread into the same surprised half-smile at just the same time. Apparently, he hadn’t been expecting to see me, either.            I was about to ask him a question; I had so many—what was he doing here in my dream? What had he been up to in the past six years? Was Gran okay, and had they found each other, wherever they were?—but he opened his mouth when I did, so I stopped to let him go first. He paused, too, and then we both smiled at the little awkwardness.            “Beau?”            It wasn’t Gramps who called my name, and we both turned to see the addition to our small reunion. I didn’t have to look to know who it was; this was a voice I knew as well as my own and I would always respond to, whether I was awake or asleep. The voice I had walked through fire for—and, less dramatically, now sloshed through the cold and endless rain for.            Edward.            Even though I was always thrilled to see him—conscious or otherwise—and even though I was almost positive that I was dreaming, I panicked as Edward walked toward us through the glaring sunlight.            I panicked because Gramps didn’t know that I was in love with a vampire—nobody knew that—so how was I supposed to explain the fact that the brilliant sunbeams were shattering off his skin into a thousand fiery shards like he was made of crystal or diamond?            Well, Gramps, you might have noticed that my boyfriend glitters. It’s just something that he does in the sun. Don’t worry about it. Also, I have a boyfriend….            What was he doing? The whole reason he lived in Forks, the rainiest place in the world, was so that he could be outside in the daytime without exposing his family’s secret. Yet here he was, strolling gracefully toward me—with the most beautiful smile on his handsome face—as if I were the only on here.            In that second, I wished I was not the only exception to his mysterious talent; I usually felt grateful that I was the only person whose thoughts he couldn’t hear just as clearly as if they were spoken aloud. But now I wished he could hear me, too, so that he could hear the warning I was screaming in my head.            I shot a panicked glance back at Gramps, and saw that it was too late. He was just turning to stare back at me, his eyes as alarmed as mine.            Edward—still smiling so  beautifully that my heart felt like it was going to swell up and burst through my chest—put his arm around my shoulder and turned to face my grandfather.            Gramps’ expression surprised me. Instead of looking horrified, he was staring at me sheepishly, as if waiting for a scolding. And he was standing in such a strange position—one arm held awkwardly away from his body, stretched out and then curled around the air. Like he had his arm around someone I couldn’t see, someone invisible…            Only then, as I looked at the bigger picture, did I notice the huge gilt frame that enclosed my grandfather’s form. Uncomprehending, I raised the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Edward’s waist and reached out to touch him. He mimicked my movement exactly, mirrored it. But where our fingers should have met, there was nothing but cold glass…            With a dizzying jolt, my dream abruptly became a nightmare.            There was no Gramps.            That was me. Me in a mirror. Me—old, creased, and withered.            Edward stood beside me, casting no reflection, excruciatingly lovely and forever seventeen.            He pressed his icy, perfect lips against my wasted cheek.            “Happy birthday, Beau,” he whispered.

I woke with a start—my eyelids popping open wide—and gasped. Dull gray light, the familiar light of an overcast morning, took the place of the blinding sun in my dream.            Just a dream, I told myself. It was only a dream. I took a deep breath and then jumped again when my alarm went off. The little calendar in the corner of the clock’s display informed me that today was September thirteenth.            Only a dream, but prophetic enough in one way, at least. Today was my birthday. I was officially eighteen years old.            I hadn’t exactly been looking forward to today.            All through the summer—one of the happiest summers I had ever had, and the rainiest summer in the history of the Olympic Peninsula—this date had lurked in ambush, waiting to spring.            And now that it had hit, it was exactly what I had feared it would be. I was older—every day I got older, but this was different. I was eighteen.            And Edward would never be.            It was an uncomfortable feeling. Something I had never thought of until the start of summer. It was a thought that had made me uniquely uncomfortable the more I thought of it. I was eighteen, I was older. Granted, eighteen wasn’t that much older, but it was still strange to think about.            I was surprised by a sudden knock on my door.            “Beau? You awake?” Charlie’s voice came from the other side.            “Yeah, Dad,” I yawned, “Come in.”            He opened the door awkwardly, juggling two poorly-wrapped packages in his arm. “Happy Birthday,” he half sung the words.            My dad, Charlie, had been practically giddy at the prospect of my birthday. He had been on the old kitchen phone with Renee almost every day in the past week, speaking in hushed tones.            “Dad, you didn’t spend any money on me, did you?”            “Oh hush up,” He feigned annoyance, “It’s your first birthday here. Let your old man celebrate.”            He set the packages on my bed, grinning widely. I looked up at him with anxious eyes.            “Well, open them up!” He prompted, gesturing to the packages.            I tentatively reached for the smaller package—a thick rectangle—and opened it up slowly.            “A phone?” I couldn’t conceal the surprise on my face, “Dad, how much did you spend on this?”            “This was your mother’s idea,” he held his hands up defensively, “she thinks we all need more open communication or something like that.” He shrugged, pulling a phone of his own out of his back pocket. “Hopefully you like it. Your mom picked everything out—she just told me what to buy.” He noticed me eyeing it. “It’s all set-up. You can start using it right away.”            “Dad, thank you.” I admired the smooth, square phone. I pressed the button on the front and the screen came to life instantly. “There can’t be any more presents, though.”            “Just one more from me,” he handed me the larger package—it was heavy.            “Dad, what is this?” I tore off the paper and my jaw dropped. “A laptop? Dad, this is too much. This better be some sort of fake-out.”            “Nope!” He laughed, “I told you, Beau, it’s your first birthday with me. I have seventeen years of catching up to do. Besides, you’re going to be looking at colleges soon and don’t kids need a laptop for college?”            “Dad, this is too much.” I tried to scold, but I couldn’t contain my grin. “I’m paying you back for some of this.”            “Not a chance,” He laughed. “Oh, before I forget.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me, “Here’s the wee-fee password.”            “Wi-Fi, Dad,” I laughed, “when did you have Wi-Fi installed? Why?”            “Happy Birthday, Beau.” He laughed, ruffling my hair. “I got to get going, I’ll see you tonight.” He headed out my bedroom door, waving back at me. “The phone has a nice camera on it; don’t forget to take pictures to put in the scrapbook your mother sent you.”            “This is excessive and we can’t afford it but thank you!” I shouted jokingly.             I admired the new phone, playing with the features, when it buzzed and made a trilling noise, startling me. It was a text message.

                       I hope you’re enjoying your new phone! –Alice

I smiled. Of course, Edward’s adopted sister, Alice, would not only know I had gotten a new phone for my birthday, but also already know my number thanks to her own unique talent. The phone buzzed again.

                       You’re going to be late! – Alice

I glanced at the little clock at the top of the phone screen and practically threw myself out of bed. I showered and got dressed in record time. When I went to brush my teeth, I examined my face with trepidation. I didn’t look any older, but that anxious fear crept back into my head. I was older and I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much.            I skipped breakfast, in a hurry to get out of the house as quickly as possible.            As I drove to school, the vision of Gramps—of me—was hard to get out of my head. I couldn’t shake that unhappy feeling until I pulled into the familiar lot behind Forks High School and spotted Edward leaning motionlessly against his polished silver Volvo, like a marble statue of Adonis. My dream had whetted my appetite for the real thing, and here he was—waiting for me, just the same as every other day.            My anxiety vanished; that now familiar feeling of desire took its place. Even after a year with him, I still couldn’t contain my emotions when I saw him.            His sister Alice was standing by his side, waiting for me, too.            Of course Edward and Alice weren’t really related—in Forks the story was that all the Cullen siblings were adopted by Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, both plainly too young to have teenage children—but their skin was precisely the same pale shade, their eyes had the same strange golden tint, with the same deep, bruise-like shadows beneath them. Her face, like his, was also startlingly beautiful. To someone in the know—someone like me—these similarities marked them for what they were.            The sight of Alice waiting there—her tawny eyes brilliant with excitement, and a small silver-wrapped square in her hands—made me frown in embarrassment. I’d told Alice, like I had told Charlie, not to spend any money on me. Obviously, also like Charlie, she chose to ignore my wishes.            I slammed the door of my ’53 Chevy truck in a show of protest—a shower of rust specks fluttered down to the wet blacktop—and walked slowly toward where they waited. Alice skipped forward to meet me, her pixie face glowing under her spiky black hair.            “Happy birthday, Beau!”            “Shh!” I hissed, glancing around the lot to make sure no one had heard her. The last thing I wanted was for anyone else to make a big deal of my birthday. I didn’t like people making a big deal over me.            She ignored me. “Do you want to open your present now or later?” she asked eagerly as we made our way to where Edward still waited.            “Alice, I told you not to get me any presents,” I protested gently.            She only smiled at me. “Okay… later, then. Did you like the scrapbook your mom sent you? And the phone from Charlie?”            I sighed. Of course she would know what my birthday presents were. Alice would have “seen” what my parents were planning as soon as they’d decided themselves.            “Yeah, they’re great.”            “I think it’s a nice idea. You’re only a senior once. Might as well document the experience.”            “How many times have you been a senior?”            “That’s different.”            We reached Edward then, and he held out his hand for mine. I took it eagerly, grinning. His skin was, as always, smooth, hard, and very cold. He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. I looked into his liquid topaz eyes, and my heart gave a not-quite-so-gentle squeeze of its own. Hearing the stutter in my heartbeats, he smiled again.            He lifted his free hand and traced one cool fingertip around the outside of my lips as he spoke. “So, as discussed, I am not allowed to wish you a happy birthday, is that correct?”            “Yes. That is correct.” I could never quite mimic the flow of his perfect, formal articulation. It was something that could only be picked up in an earlier century.            “Just checking.” He ran his hand through his tousled bronze hair. “You might have changed your mind. Most people seem to enjoy things like birthdays and gifts.”            Alice laughed, and the sound was all silver, a wind chime. “Of course you’ll enjoy it. Everyone is supposed to be nice to you today and give you your way, Beau. What’s the worst that could happen?” She meant it as a rhetorical question.            “Getting older,” I answered anyway, I had meant it to sound like a joke but my voice wavered sadly.            Beside me, Edward’s smile tightened into a hard line.            “Eighteen isn’t very old,” Alice said. “Don’t people usually wait till they’re much older to get upset over birthdays?”            “It’s older than Edward,” I pointed out.            He sighed.            “Technically,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Just by one little year, though.”            And I supposed it was just one little year and a year or two one direction or the other wouldn’t matter to me so much. I would be happy to get to spend forever with Edward, and Alice and the rest of the Cullens but preferably not as a wrinkled little old man… There was an alternative but it was something Edward was dead set against, and even I wasn’t sure if I wanted it.            An impasse, I suppose.            It was a position I had put myself in. I couldn’t understand Edward’s reluctance but I had my own trepidation regarding any prospect that made me immortal. I would have to give up so much—my friends, my family, my mortality. On the other hand, being a vampire didn’t look so bad—not the way the Cullens did it, anyway.            “What time will you be at the house?” Alice continued, changing the subject. From her expression, she was up to exactly the kind of thing I’d been hoping to avoid.            “I didn’t know I had plans to be there.”            “Oh, be fair, Beau!” she complained. “You aren’t going to ruin all our fun like that, are you?”            “I thought my birthday was about what I want?”            “I’ll get him from Charlie’s right after school,” Edward told her, ignoring me altogether.            “Excuse you,” I glared, “I have to work.”            “You don’t, actually,” Alice told me smugly. “I already spoke to Mrs. Newton about it. She’s trading your shifts. She said to tell you ‘Happy Birthday.’”            “I—I still can’t come over,” I stammered, scrambling for an excuse. “I, well, I haven’t watched Romeo and Juliet yet for English.”            Alice snorted. “You have Romeo and Juliet memorized.”            “But Mr. Berty said we needed to see it performed to fully appreciate it—that’s how Shakespeare intended it to be presented.”            Edward rolled his eyes, concealing a grin.            “You’ve already seen the movie,” Alice accused.            “But not the nineteen-sixties version. Mr. Berty said it was the best.”            Finally, Alice lost the smug smile and glared at me. “This can be easy, or this can be hard, Beau, but one way or the other—“            Edward interrupted her threat. “Relax, Alice. If Beau wants to watch a movie, then he can. It’s his birthday.”            “So there,” I added.            “I’ll bring him over around seven,” he continued. “That will give you more time to set up.”            Alice’s laughter chimed in again. “Sounds good. See you tonight, Beau! It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” She grinned—the wide smile exposed all her perfect, glistening teeth—then pecked me on the cheek and danced off toward her first class before I could respond.            “Edward, I don’t appreciate this.” I glared. He ran his cool finger along my jaw.            “Can we discuss it later? We’re going to be late for class.”            No one bothered to stare at us as we took our usual seats in the back of the classroom. We had almost every class together now—it was amazing the favors Edward could get the administrators to do for him. Edward and I had been together too long now to be an object of gossip anymore. Even Mike Newton didn’t bother to give me the glum stare that used to make me feel a little guilty. He smiled now instead, and I was glad he seemed to have accepted that we could only be friends. Mike had changed over the summer—his face had lost some of the roundness, making his cheekbones more prominent, and he was wearing his pale blond hair a new way; instead of perfectly flat-ironed, it was styled back into a carefully casual disarray. It was easy to see where his inspiration came from—but Edward’s look was still uniquely his.            As the day progressed, I considered ways to get out of whatever was going down at the Cullen house tonight. I was already in an off mood today which was sure to dampen the mood. But, worse than that, this was sure to involve attention and gifts.            Attention isn’t a bad thing, really, but too much of it made me feel anxious. I never liked when everything was about me and I tended to get awkward and clumsy in those kind of situations.            And I had begged everyone not to get me any presents—I didn’t need anything. It looked like Charlie and my mom weren’t the only ones who had decided to overlook that.            I’d never had much money, and that had never bothered me. My mom had raised me on a kindergarten teacher’s salary. Charlie wasn’t getting rich at his job, either—he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Forks. My only personal income came from the three days a week I worked at the local sporting goods store. In a town this small, I was lucky to have a job. Every penny I made went into my microscopic college fund.            Edward had a lot of money—I didn’t even want to think about how much. Money meant next to nothing to Edward or the rest of the Cullens. It was just something that accumulated when you had unlimited time on your hands and a sister wo had an uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market. Edward didn’t seem to understand why I objected to him spending money on me—why it made me uncomfortable if he took me to an expensive restaurant in Seattle, why he wasn’t allowed to buy me a car that could reach speeds over fifty-five miles an hour, or why I wouldn’t let him pay my college tuition. Edward thought I was being unnecessarily difficult. I pointed out that lavishing me with insanely expensive gifts wasn’t something a human teenager did for his boyfriend.            As the day went on, neither Edward nor Alice brought my birthday up again, and I began to relax a little.            We sat at our usual table for lunch.            A strange kind of truce existed at that table. The three of us—Edward, Alice, and I—sat on the southern end of the table. Now that the “older” and somewhat more intimidating Cullen siblings had graduated, Alice and Edward didn’t seem quite as imposing, and we didn’t sit alone. My other friends, Mike and Jessica—who were in the awkward post-breakup friendship phase, Angela and Ben—whose relationship had survived the summer, Erica, Conner, Tyler, Lauren and her brother Logan—though he didn’t really count in the friend category—all sat at the same table, on the other side of an invisible line. That line dissolved on sunny days when Edward and Alice always skipped school, and then the conversation would swell out effortlessly to include me.            Edward and Alice didn’t find this minor ostracism odd or hurtful the way anyone else would have. They barely noticed it. People always felt strangely ill at ease with the Cullens, almost afraid for some reason they couldn’t explain to themselves. I was a rare exception to that rule. Sometimes it bothered Edward how very comfortable I was with being close to him. He thought he was hazardous to my health—an opinion I vehemently disagreed with whenever he voiced it.            The afternoon passed quickly. School ended, and Edward walked me to my truck as he usually did. But this time, he held the passenger door open for me. Alice must have been taking his car home so that he could keep me from making a run for it.            I folded my arms and made no move to get out of the rain. “It’s my birthday, don’t I get to drive?”            “I’m pretending it’s not your birthday, just as you wished.”            “If it’s not my birthday, then I don’t have to go to your house tonight.” I countered.            “All right.” He shut the passenger door and walked past me to open the driver’s side. “Happy birthday.”            “Oh my god,” I threw my hands in the air and climbed in the opened door, wishing he’d taken the other offer.            Edward played with the radio while I drove, shaking his head in disapproval.            “Your radio has horrible reception.”            I frowned. I didn’t like it when he picked on my truck. The truck was great—it had personality.            “You want a nice stereo? Drive your own car.” I was so nervous about Alice’s plans, on top of my already off mood, that the words came out sharper than I’d meant them. I was hardly ever bad-tempered with Edward, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep from smiling.            When I parked in front of Charlie’s house, he reached over and moved my face to his. He handled me very carefully like I was especially breakable. Which was exactly the case—compared with him, at least.            “You should be in a good mood, today of all days,” he whispered. His sweet breath fanned across my face.            “I’m not in a bad mood, I just don’t like people making a fuss over me.” I shrugged.            His golden eyes smoldered. “Too bad.”            My heart started racing as he leaned closer and pressed his icy lips against mine. As he had no doubt hoped I forgot all about my worries, and sighed happily.            His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle, until I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into me with enthusiasm. I could feel his lips curve upward as his hands ran through my hair. I moved my hands to his chest and gently pushed him away, exhaling sharply.            Edward and I had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being to keep me alive. We needed to maintain a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp, venom-coated teeth, though sometimes we both tended to forget about trivial things like that once we started kissing.            “Easy, tiger,” I smirked, feeling his strong chest under my hands. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.            “And I was going to tell you to be good,” he breathed against my cheek. He pressed his lips gently to mine one more time and then pulled away hesitantly.            “I think we’re getting better at this.” I smiled. “At least one of us remembers to take it easy.” I sighed, “Maybe my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you touch me.”            “I really hope not,” he said, a bit smug.            I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go watch the Capulets and Montagues hack each other up, all right?”            “Yes, sir.”            Edward sprawled across the couch while I started the movie, fast-forwarding through the opening credits. When I perched on the edge of the sofa in front of him, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest. It wasn’t exactly as comfortable as a sofa cushion would be, what with his chest being hard and cold—and perfect—as an ice sculpture, but it was definitely preferable. He had a very nice chest. He pulled the old afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over me so I wouldn’t freeze beside his body.            “You know, I’ve never had much patience with Romeo,” he commented as the movie started.            “What’s wrong with Romeo?” I asked, a little offended. Romeo was one of my favorite fictional characters. I’d definitely had a bit of a crush on him when I was younger.            “Well, first of all, he’s in love with this Rosaline—don’t you think it makes him seem a little fickle? And then, a few minutes after their wedding, he kills Juliet’s cousin. That’s not very brilliant. Mistake after mistake. Could he have destroyed his own happiness any more thoroughly?”            I sighed. “Do you want me to watch this alone?”            “No, I’ll mostly be watching you, anyway.” His fingers traced patterns across the skin of my arm, raising good bumps. “Will you cry?”            “Probably,” I admitted, “if someone lets me pay attention to the movie.”            “I won’t distract you then.” But I felt his lips on my hair, and it was very distracting.            The movie eventually captured my interest, thanks in large part to Edward whispering Romeo’s lines in my ear—his irresistible, velvet voice made the actor’s voice sound weak and coarse by comparison. And I did cry, to his amusement, when Juliet woke and found her new husband dead.            “I’ll admit, I do sort of envy him here,” Edward said, wiping the tears from my face.            “Because she’s… pretty?”            He made a disgusted sound. “I don’t envy him the girl—just the ease of the suicide,” he clarified in a teasing tone. “You humans have it so easy! All you have to do is throw down one tiny vial of plan extracts…”            “What?” I gasped.            “It’s something I had to think about once, and I knew from Carlisle’s experience that it wouldn’t be simple. I’m not even sure how many ways Carlisle tried to kill himself in the beginning… after he realized what he’d become…” His voice, which had grown serious, turned light again. “And he’s clearly still in excellent health.”            I twisted around so that I could read his face. “What are you talking about?” I demanded. “What do you mean, this is something you had to think about once?”            “Last spring, when you were… nearly killed…” He paused to take a deep breath, struggling to return to his teasing tone. “Of course I was trying to focus on finding you alive, but part of my mind was making contingency plans. Like I said, it’s not as easy for me as it is for a human.”            For one second, the memory of my last trip to Phoenix washed through my head and made me feel dizzy. I could see it all so clearly—the blinding sun, the heat waves coming off the concrete as I ran with desperate haste to find the sadistic vampire who wanted to torture me to death. James, waiting in the mirrored room with my mother as his hostage—or so I’d thought. I hadn’t known it was all a ruse. Just as James hadn’t known that Edward was racing to save me; Edward made it in time, but it had been a close one. Unthinkingly, my fingers traced the crescent-shaped scar on my hand that was always just a few degrees cooler than the rest of my skin.            I shook my head—as if I could shake away the bad memories—and tried to grasp what Edward meant. My stomach plunged uncomfortably. “Contingency plans?” I repeated.            “Well, I wasn’t going to live without you.” He rolled his eyes as if that fact were childishly obvious. “But I wasn’t sure how to do it—I knew Emmett and Jasper would never help… so I was thinking maybe I would go to Italy and do something to provoke the Volturi.”            I didn’t want to believe he was serious, but his golden eyes were brooding, focused on something far away in the distance as he contemplated ways to end his own life.            “First of all, that’s not healthy.” I scolded. “Second, what’s a Volturi?”            “The Volturi are a family,” he explained, his eyes still remote. “A very old, very powerful family of our kind. They are the closest thing our world has to a royal family, I suppose. Carlisle lived with them briefly in his early years, in Italy, before he settled in America—do you remember the story?”            “Of course I remember.”            I would never forget the first time I’d gone to his home, the huge white mansion buried deep in the forest beside the river, or the room where Carlisle—Edward’s father in so many real ways—kept a wall of paintings that illustrated his personal history. The most vivid, most wildly colorful canvas there, the largest, was from Carlisle’s time in Italy. Of course I remembered the calm quartet of men, each with the exquisite face of a seraph, painted into the highest balcony overlooking the swirling mayhem of color. Though the painting was centuries old, Carlisle—the blonde angel—remained unchanged. And I remembered the three others, Carlisle’s early acquaintances. Edward had never used the name Volturi for the beautiful trio, two black-haired, one snow white. He’d called them Aro, Caius, and Marcus, nighttime patrons of the arts…            “Anyway, you don’t irritate the Volturi,” Edward went on, interrupting my reverie. “Not unless you want to die—or whatever it is we do.” His voice was so calm, it made him sound almost bored by the prospect.            I felt the horror overtake me. I took his marble face between my hands and held it very tightly.            “You can’t say things like that. You can’t think of anything like that again.” I said firmly. “No matter what might ever happen to me, you are not allowed to hurt yourself.”            “I’ll never put you in danger again, so it’s a moot point.”            “Put me in danger? I was under the impression that you thought that all the bad luck was my fault?” I was getting more upset. “You can’t think like that, Edward.”            “What would you do, if the situation were reversed?” he asked.            “I wouldn’t do that.”            He averted his eyes.            “What if something did happen to you?” The thought hurt me. “Would you want me to go off myself?”            A trace of pain touched his perfect features.            “I guess I see your point… a little,” he admitted. “But what would I do without you?”            “Whatever you were doing before I came along, I suppose. You managed for quite a while without me.”            He sighed. “You make that sound so easy.”            “It should be. I’m not really that interesting.” I chuckled.            He was about to argue, but then he let it go. “Moot point,” he reminded me. Abruptly, he pulled himself up into a more formal posture, shifting me to the side so that we were no longer touching.            “Charlie?” I guessed.            Edward smiled. After a moment, I heard the sound of the police cruiser pulling into the driveway. I reached out and took his hand firmly. My dad could deal with that much.            Charlie came in with a pizza box in his hands.            “Hey, kids.” He grinned at me. “I thought you’d like a break from cooking and washing dishes from your birthday. Hungry?”            “Thanks, Dad!” I smiled.            Charlie didn’t comment on Edward’s apparent lack of appetite. He was used to Edward passing on dinner.            “Do you mind if I borrow Beau for the evening?” Edward asked when Charlie and I were done.            I looked up at Charlie, kind of hoping he’d want me to stay home. He had said it himself this morning; this was my first birthday with him, the first birthday since my mom had remarried and gone to live in Florida, so I didn’t know if he’d made plans for our evening.            “That’s fine—I gave Beau his presents this morning. Besides, the Mariners are playing the Sox tonight,” Charlie explained, “So I won’t be any kind of company… If they’re doing something fun at the Cullens’ tonight, Beau, you should take some pictures on your new phone. You know how your mother gets—she’ll be wanting to see the pictures faster than you can take them.”            “Good idea, Charlie,” Edward said, pulling my phone out of my pocket.            I grabbed it from his and opened the camera feature, turning it on Edward, and snapping the first picture. “It works.”            “That’s good. Hey, say hi to Alice for me. She hasn’t been over in a while.” Charlie’s mouth pulled down at one corner.            “It’s been three days, Dad,” I reminded him. Charlie was crazy about Alice. He’d become attached last spring when she’d helped me through my awkward recovery process. “I’ll tell her.”            “Okay. You kids have fun tonight.” Charlie was already edging toward the living room and the TV.            Edward smiled, triumphant, and took my hand to pull me from the kitchen.            When we got to the truck, he opened the passenger door for me again, and this time I didn’t argue. I still had a hard time finding the obscure turnoff to his house in the dark.            Edward drove north through Forks, visibly chafing at the speed limit enforced by my prehistoric Chevy. The engine groaned even louder than usual as he pushed it over fifty.            “Take I easy,” I warned him.            “You know what you would love? A nice little Audi coupe. Very quiet, lots of power…”            “There’s nothing wrong with my truck. And speaking of nonessentials, I hope you didn’t spend any money on birthday presents.”            “Not a dime,” he said virtuously.            “Good.”            “Beau…”            “Yes?”            He sighed, his lovely face serious. “Beau, the last real birthday any of us had was Emmett in 1935. Cut us a little slack, and don’t be too upset about the party. They’re all very excited.”            It always startled me a little when he brought up things like that. “I’ll behave, don’t worry.”            “I should probably warn you…”            “Birthday warnings are always so great.” I deadpanned.            He snorted. “When I say they’re all excited… I do mean all of them.”            “Everyone?” I wavered. “I thought Emmett and Royal were in Africa.” The rest of Forks was under the impression that the older Cullens had gone off to college this year, to Dartmouth, but I knew better.            “Emmett wanted to be here.”            “That’s sweet of him… but Royal?”            “I know, Beau. Don’t worry, he’ll be on his best behavior.”            I didn’t answer. Like I could just not worry, that easy. Unlike Alice, Edward’s other “adopted” sibling, the golden blond and exquisite Royal didn’t like me much. Actually, the feeling was a little stronger than just dislike. As far as Royal was concerned, I was an unwelcome intruder into his family’s secret life.            I felt horribly guilty about the present situation, guessing that Royal and Emmett’s prolonged absence was my fault, even as I furtively appreciated not having to see him. Emmett, Edward’s playful bear of a brother, I did miss. He was in many ways just like the big brother I’d always wanted… only much, much more terrifying.            Edward decided to change the subject. “So, if you won’t let me get you the Audi, isn’t there anything that you’d like for your birthday?”            The words came out in a suggestive whisper. “Well, if you’re offering anything.”            I heard him catch his breath and his grip tightened on the steering wheel.            “Beau, be good. Please.” He breathed the words out.            “Well, maybe Emmett will give me what I want.” I teased.            Edward growled—a deep, menacing sound. “Over my dead body.”            “Oh, calm down.” I laughed.            We were pulling up to the house now. Bright light shined from every window on the first two floors. A long line of glowing Japanese lanterns hung from the porch eaves, reflecting a soft radiance on the huge cedars that surrounded the house. Big bowls of flowers—ruffled tulips—lined the wide stairs up to the front doors.            I caught my breath, feeling a surprising excitement creep over me.            Edward took a few deep breaths to calm himself—from my suggestiveness or the jab about Emmett I wasn’t sure. “This is a party,” he sighed. “Try to be a good sport.”            “Always am.” I smirked.            He came around to get my door, and offered me his hand.            “I have a question.”            He waited warily.            “If I look at the photo I took,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket, “will you show up in the picture?”            Edward started laughing. He helped me out of the car, pulled me up the stairs, and was still laughing as he opened the door for me.            They were all waiting in the huge white living room; when I walked through the door, they greeted me with a loud chorus of “Happy birthday, Beau!” while I blushed and smiled. Alice, I assumed, had covered every flat surface with white candles and dozens of crystal bowls filled with hundreds of ruffled tulips. There was a table with a white cloth draped over it next to Edward’s grand piano, holding a red birthday cake, more tulips, a stack of glass plate, and a small pile of silver-wrapped presents.            It was absolutely beautiful.            Edward, sensing my mounting excitement, wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head.            Edward’s parents, Carlisle and Esme—impossibly youthful and lovely as ever—were the closest to the door. Esme hugged me carefully, her soft, caramel-colored hair brushing against my cheek as she kissed my forehead, and then Carlisle put his arm around my shoulders.            “Sorry about this, Beau,” he stage-whispered. “We couldn’t rein Alice in.”            Royal and Emmet stood behind them. Royal didn’t smile, but at least he didn’t glare. Emmett’s face stretched into a huge grin. It had been months since I’d seen them; I’d forgotten how gloriously beautiful Royal was—it almost hurt to look at him. And I had almost forgotten how big Emmett was.            “You haven’t changed at all,” Emmett said with mock disappointment, pulling me into a gentle bear-hug. “I expected a perceptible difference, but here you are, red-faced just like always.”            “Thanks a lot, Emmett,” I said, blushing deeper.            He laughed, “I have to step out for a second”—he paused to wink conspicuously at Alice—“Don’t do anything funny while I’m gone.”            “I’ll do my best.”            Alice let go of Jasper’s hand and skipped forward, all her teeth sparkling in the bright light. Jasper smiled, too, but kept his distance. He leaned, long and blond, against the post at the foot of the stairs. During the days we’d had to spend cooped up together in Phoenix, I’d thought he’d gotten over his aversion to me. But he’d gone back to exactly how he’d acted before—avoiding me as much as possible—the moment he was free from that temporary obligation to protect me. I knew it wasn’t personal, just a precaution, and I tried not to be overly sensitive about it. Jasper had more trouble sticking to the Cullens’ diet than the rest of them; the scent of human blood was much harder for him to resist than the others—he hadn’t been trying as long.            “Time to open presents,” Alice declared. She put her cool hand under my elbow and towed me to the table with the cake and the shiny packages.            “Alice,” I sighed, smiling, “I told you I didn’t want anything—“            “But I didn’t listen,” she interrupted, smug. “Open it.” She took my phone from my hands and replaced it with a big, square silver box.            The box was so light that if felt empty. The tag on top said that it was from Emmett, Royal, and Jasper. Trying not to look too excited, I tore the paper off and then stared at the box it concealed.            It was something electrical, with lots of numbers in the name. I opened the box, hoping for further illumination. But the box was empty.            “Um… thanks.”            Royal actually cracked a smile. Jasper laughed. “It’s a stereo for your truck,” he explained. “Emmett’s installing it right now so that you can’t return it.”            “Thank you, Jasper, Royal,” I told them, grinning as I remembered Edward’s complaints about my radio this afternoon—all a setup, apparently. “Thanks, Emmett!” I called more loudly.            I heard his booming laugh from my truck, and I couldn’t help laughing, too.            “Open mine and Edward’s next,” Alice said, so excited her voice was a high-pitched trill. She held a small, flat square in her hand.            I turned to glare at Edward. “You promised.”            Before he could answer, Emmett bounded through the door. “Just in time!” he crowed. He pushed in behind Jasper, who had also drifted closer than usual to get a good look.            “I didn’t spend a dime,” Edward assured me. He ran his hand through my hair, smiling gently.            I narrowed my eyes at him, before turning to Alice. “Alright, let’s see it,” I sighed.            Emmett chuckled with delight.            I took the little package, trying to conceal my smile as I stuck my finger under the edge of the paper and jerked it under the tape.            “Shoot,” I muttered when the paper sliced my finger; I pulled it out to examine the damage. A single drop of blood oozed from the tiny cut.            It all happened very quickly then.            “No!” Edward roared.            He threw himself at me, flinging me back across the table. It fell, as I did, scattering the cake and the presents, the flowers and the plates. I landed in the mess of shattered crystal.            Jasper slammed into Edward, and the sound was like the crash of boulders in a rock slide.            There was another noise, a grisly snarling that seemed to be coming deep from Jasper’s chest. Jasper tried to shove past Edward, snapping his teeth just inches from Edward’s face.            Emmett grabbed Jasper from behind in the next second, locking him into his massive steel grip, but Jasper struggled on, his wild, empty eyes focused only on me.            Beyond the shock, there was also pain. I’d tumbled down to the floor by the piano, with my arms thrown out instinctively to catch my fall, into the jagged shards of glass. Only now did I feel the searing, stinging pain that ran from my wrist to the crease inside my elbow.            Dazed and disoriented, I looked up from the bright red blood pulsing out of my arm—into the fevered eyes of the six suddenly ravenous vampires.

I felt like I was trapped in one of those terrifying nightmares, the one where you have to run, run till your lungs burst, but you can’t make your body move fast enough. My legs seemed to move slower and slower as I fought my way through the callous crowd, but the hands on the huge clock tower didn’t slow. With relentless, uncaring force, they turned inexorably toward the end—the end of everything.            But this was no dream, and, unlike the nightmare, I wasn’t running for my life; I was racing to save something precious to me. My own life wasn’t my focus right now.            Alice had said there was a good chance we would both die here. Perhaps the outcome would be different if she weren’t trapped by the brilliant sunlight; only I was free to run across this bright, crowded square.            And I couldn’t run fast enough.            So it didn’t matter to me that we were surrounded by our extraordinarily dangerous enemies. As the clock began to toll out the hour, vibrating under the soles of my sluggish feet, I knew it was too late—and I felt the agonizing break of my heart. This failure would be the worst break it had endured—the final break—and I would not recover.            The clock tolled again, and the sun beat down from the exact center point of the sky.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.

Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene VI