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. Am I wrong? She flinched slightly, but otherwise pretended not to hear me.That made me smile. I didn t think so. Why does it matter to you? she demanded, still staring away. That s a very good question, I admitted, more to myself than to answer her.Her discernment was better than mine she saw right to the core of things while Ifloundered around the edges, sifting blindly through clues.The details of her very humanlife should not matter to me.It was wrong for me to care what she thought.Beyondprotecting my family from suspicion, human thoughts were not significant.I was not used to being the less intuitive of any pairing.I relied on my extrahearing too much I clearly was not as perceptive as I gave myself credit for.© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 45The girl sighed and glowered toward the front of the classroom.Something abouther frustrated expression was humorous.The whole situation, the whole conversationwas humorous.No one had ever been in more danger from me than this little girl atany moment I might, distracted by my ridiculous absorption in the conversation, inhalethrough my nose and attack her before I could stop myself and she was irritated becauseI hadn t answered her question. Am I annoying you? I asked, smiling at the absurdity of it all.She glanced at me quickly, and then her eyes seemed to get trapped by my gaze. Not exactly, she told me. I m more annoyed at myself.My face is so easy toread my mother always calls me her open book. She frowned, disgruntled.I stared at her in amazement.The reason she was upset was because she thought Isaw through her too easily.How bizarre.I d never expended so much effort tounderstand someone in all my life or rather existence, as life was hardly the right word.I did not truly have a life. On the contrary, I disagreed, feeling strangely& wary, as if there were somehidden danger here that I was failing to see.I was suddenly on edge, the premonitionmaking me anxious. I find you very difficult to read. You must be a good reader then, she guessed, making her own assumption thatwas, again, right on target. Usually, I agreed.I smiled at her widely then, letting my lips pull back to expose the rows ofgleaming, razor sharp teeth behind them.It was a stupid thing to do, but I was abruptly, unexpectedly desperate to get somekind of warning through to the girl.Her body was closer to me than before, havingshifted unconsciously in the course of our conversation.All the little markers and signsthat were sufficient to scare off the rest of humanity did not seem to be working on her.Why did she not cringe away from me in terror? Surely she had seen enough of mydarker side to realize the danger, intuitive as she seemed to be.© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 46I didn t get to see if my warning had the intended effect.Mr.Banner called forthe class s attention just then, and she turned away from me at once.She seemed a littlerelieved for the interruption, so maybe she understood unconsciously.I hoped she did.I recognized the fascination growing inside me, even as I tried to root it out.Icould not afford to find Bella Swan interesting.Or rather, she could not afford that.Already, I was anxious for another chance to talk to her.I wanted to know more abouther mother, her life before she came here, her relationship with her father.All themeaningless details that would flesh out her character further.But every second I spentwith her was a mistake, a risk she shouldn t have to take.Absentmindedly, she tossed her thick hair just at the moment that I allowedmyself another breath.A particularly concentrated wave of her scent hit the back of mythroat.It was like the first day like the wrecking ball.The pain of the burning drynessmade me dizzy.I had to grasp the table again to keep myself in my seat.This time I hadslightly more control.I didn t break anything, at least.The monster growled inside me,but took no pleasure in my pain.He was too tightly bound.For the moment.I stopped breathing altogether, and leaned as far from the girl as I could.No, I could not afford to find her fascinating.The more interesting I found her,the more likely it was that I would kill her.I d already made two minor slips today.Would I make a third, one that was not minor?As soon as the bell sounded, I fled from the classroom probably destroyingwhatever impression of politeness I d halfway constructed in the course of the hour.Again, I gasped at the clean, wet air outside like it was a healing attar.I hurried to put asmuch distance between myself and the girl as was possible.Emmett waited for me outside the door of our Spanish class.He read my wildexpression for a moment.How did it go? he wondered warily. Nobody died, I mumbled.I guess that s something.When I saw Alice ditching there at the end, I thought&© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 47As we walked into the classroom, I saw his memory from just a few momentsago, seen through the open door of his last class: Alice walking briskly and blank-facedacross the grounds toward the science building.I felt his remembered urge to get up andjoin her, and then his decision to stay.If Alice needed his help, she would ask&I closed my eyes in horror and disgust as I slumped into my seat. I hadn trealized that it was that close.I didn t think I was going to& I didn t see that it was thatbad, I whispered.It wasn t, he reassured me.Nobody died, right? Right, I said through my teeth. Not this time. Maybe it will get easier. Sure. Or, maybe you kill her.He shrugged.You wouldn t be the first one to mess up.No one would judge you too harshly.Sometimes a person just smells too good.I mimpressed you ve lasted this long. Not helping, Emmett. I was revolted by his acceptance of the idea that I would kill the girl, that this wassomehow inevitable.Was it her fault that she smelled so good?I know when it happened to me& , he reminisced, taking me back with him half acentury, to a country lane at dusk, where a middle-aged women was taking her driedsheets down from a line strung between apple trees.The scent of apples hung heavy inthe air the harvest was over and the rejected fruits were scattered on the ground, thebruises in their skin leaking their fragrance out in thick clouds.A fresh-mowed field ofhay was a background to that scent, a harmony.He walked up the lane, all but obliviousto the woman, on an errand for Rosalie.The sky was purple overhead, orange over thewestern trees.He would have continued up the meandering cart path and there wouldhave been no reason to remember the evening, except that a sudden night breeze blew thewhite sheets out like sails and fanned the woman s scent across Emmett s face. Ah, I groaned quietly.As if my own remembered thirst was not enough.I know.I didn t last half a second.I didn t even think about resisting.His memory became far too explicit for me to stand.I jumped to my feet, my teeth locked hard enough cut through steel.© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 48 Esta bien, Edward? Senora Goff asked, startled by my sudden movement.Icould see my face in her mind, and I knew that I looked far from well. Me perdona, I muttered, as I darted for the door [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]
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. Am I wrong? She flinched slightly, but otherwise pretended not to hear me.That made me smile. I didn t think so. Why does it matter to you? she demanded, still staring away. That s a very good question, I admitted, more to myself than to answer her.Her discernment was better than mine she saw right to the core of things while Ifloundered around the edges, sifting blindly through clues.The details of her very humanlife should not matter to me.It was wrong for me to care what she thought.Beyondprotecting my family from suspicion, human thoughts were not significant.I was not used to being the less intuitive of any pairing.I relied on my extrahearing too much I clearly was not as perceptive as I gave myself credit for.© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 45The girl sighed and glowered toward the front of the classroom.Something abouther frustrated expression was humorous.The whole situation, the whole conversationwas humorous.No one had ever been in more danger from me than this little girl atany moment I might, distracted by my ridiculous absorption in the conversation, inhalethrough my nose and attack her before I could stop myself and she was irritated becauseI hadn t answered her question. Am I annoying you? I asked, smiling at the absurdity of it all.She glanced at me quickly, and then her eyes seemed to get trapped by my gaze. Not exactly, she told me. I m more annoyed at myself.My face is so easy toread my mother always calls me her open book. She frowned, disgruntled.I stared at her in amazement.The reason she was upset was because she thought Isaw through her too easily.How bizarre.I d never expended so much effort tounderstand someone in all my life or rather existence, as life was hardly the right word.I did not truly have a life. On the contrary, I disagreed, feeling strangely& wary, as if there were somehidden danger here that I was failing to see.I was suddenly on edge, the premonitionmaking me anxious. I find you very difficult to read. You must be a good reader then, she guessed, making her own assumption thatwas, again, right on target. Usually, I agreed.I smiled at her widely then, letting my lips pull back to expose the rows ofgleaming, razor sharp teeth behind them.It was a stupid thing to do, but I was abruptly, unexpectedly desperate to get somekind of warning through to the girl.Her body was closer to me than before, havingshifted unconsciously in the course of our conversation.All the little markers and signsthat were sufficient to scare off the rest of humanity did not seem to be working on her.Why did she not cringe away from me in terror? Surely she had seen enough of mydarker side to realize the danger, intuitive as she seemed to be.© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 46I didn t get to see if my warning had the intended effect.Mr.Banner called forthe class s attention just then, and she turned away from me at once.She seemed a littlerelieved for the interruption, so maybe she understood unconsciously.I hoped she did.I recognized the fascination growing inside me, even as I tried to root it out.Icould not afford to find Bella Swan interesting.Or rather, she could not afford that.Already, I was anxious for another chance to talk to her.I wanted to know more abouther mother, her life before she came here, her relationship with her father.All themeaningless details that would flesh out her character further.But every second I spentwith her was a mistake, a risk she shouldn t have to take.Absentmindedly, she tossed her thick hair just at the moment that I allowedmyself another breath.A particularly concentrated wave of her scent hit the back of mythroat.It was like the first day like the wrecking ball.The pain of the burning drynessmade me dizzy.I had to grasp the table again to keep myself in my seat.This time I hadslightly more control.I didn t break anything, at least.The monster growled inside me,but took no pleasure in my pain.He was too tightly bound.For the moment.I stopped breathing altogether, and leaned as far from the girl as I could.No, I could not afford to find her fascinating.The more interesting I found her,the more likely it was that I would kill her.I d already made two minor slips today.Would I make a third, one that was not minor?As soon as the bell sounded, I fled from the classroom probably destroyingwhatever impression of politeness I d halfway constructed in the course of the hour.Again, I gasped at the clean, wet air outside like it was a healing attar.I hurried to put asmuch distance between myself and the girl as was possible.Emmett waited for me outside the door of our Spanish class.He read my wildexpression for a moment.How did it go? he wondered warily. Nobody died, I mumbled.I guess that s something.When I saw Alice ditching there at the end, I thought&© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 47As we walked into the classroom, I saw his memory from just a few momentsago, seen through the open door of his last class: Alice walking briskly and blank-facedacross the grounds toward the science building.I felt his remembered urge to get up andjoin her, and then his decision to stay.If Alice needed his help, she would ask&I closed my eyes in horror and disgust as I slumped into my seat. I hadn trealized that it was that close.I didn t think I was going to& I didn t see that it was thatbad, I whispered.It wasn t, he reassured me.Nobody died, right? Right, I said through my teeth. Not this time. Maybe it will get easier. Sure. Or, maybe you kill her.He shrugged.You wouldn t be the first one to mess up.No one would judge you too harshly.Sometimes a person just smells too good.I mimpressed you ve lasted this long. Not helping, Emmett. I was revolted by his acceptance of the idea that I would kill the girl, that this wassomehow inevitable.Was it her fault that she smelled so good?I know when it happened to me& , he reminisced, taking me back with him half acentury, to a country lane at dusk, where a middle-aged women was taking her driedsheets down from a line strung between apple trees.The scent of apples hung heavy inthe air the harvest was over and the rejected fruits were scattered on the ground, thebruises in their skin leaking their fragrance out in thick clouds.A fresh-mowed field ofhay was a background to that scent, a harmony.He walked up the lane, all but obliviousto the woman, on an errand for Rosalie.The sky was purple overhead, orange over thewestern trees.He would have continued up the meandering cart path and there wouldhave been no reason to remember the evening, except that a sudden night breeze blew thewhite sheets out like sails and fanned the woman s scent across Emmett s face. Ah, I groaned quietly.As if my own remembered thirst was not enough.I know.I didn t last half a second.I didn t even think about resisting.His memory became far too explicit for me to stand.I jumped to my feet, my teeth locked hard enough cut through steel.© 2008 Stephenie Meyer 48 Esta bien, Edward? Senora Goff asked, startled by my sudden movement.Icould see my face in her mind, and I knew that I looked far from well. Me perdona, I muttered, as I darted for the door [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]