“Did you get contacts?” I blurted out.
She seemed puzzled by my apropos-of-nothing question. “No.”
“Oh,” I mumbled. “I thought there was something different about your eyes.”
She shrugged, and looked away.
In fact, I knew there was something different. I had not forgotten one detail of that first time she’d glared at me like she wanted me dead. I could still see the flat black color of her eyes—so jarring against the background of her pale skin. Today, her eyes were a completely different color: a strange gold, darker than butterscotch, but with the same warm tone. I didn’t understand how that was possible, unless she was lying for some reason about the contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the literal sense of the word.
I looked down. Her hands were clenched into fists again.
Mrs. Banner came to our table then, looking over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers.
“So, Edythe…,” Mrs. Banner began.
“Beau identified half of the slides,” Edythe said before Mrs. Banner could finish.
Mrs. Banner looked at me now; her expression was skeptical.
“Have you done this lab before?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Not with onion root.”
“Whitefish blastula?”
“Yeah.”
Mrs. Banner nodded. “Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” she said after a moment, “I guess it’s good you two are lab partners.” She mumbled something else I couldn’t hear as she walked away. After she left, I started doodling on my notebook again.
“It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?” Edythe asked. I had the odd feeling that she was forcing herself to make small talk with me. It was like she had heard my conversation with Jeremy at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong. Which was impossible. I was turning paranoid.
“Not really,” I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else. I was still trying to shake the stupid feeling of suspicion, and I couldn’t concentrate on putting up a socially acceptable front.
“You don’t like the cold.” It wasn’t a question.
“Or the wet.”
“Forks must be a difficult place for you to live,” she mused.
“You have no idea,” I muttered darkly.
She looked riveted by my response, for some reason I couldn’t imagine. Her face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more than courtesy absolutely demanded.
“Why did you come here, then?”
No one had asked me that—not straight out like she did, demanding.
“It’s… complicated.”
“I think I can keep up,” she pressed.
I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting her gaze. Her long, dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.
“My mother got remarried,” I said.
“That doesn’t sound so complex,” she disagreed, but her tone was suddenly softer. “When did that happen?”
“Last September.” I couldn’t keep the sadness out of my voice.
“And you don’t like him,” Edythe guessed, her voice still kind.
“No, Phil is fine. A little young, maybe, but he’s a good guy.”
“Why didn’t you stay with them?”
I couldn’t understand her interest, but she continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life’s story was somehow vitally important.
“Phil travels most of the time. He plays ball for a living.” I half-smiled.
“Have I heard of him?” she asked, smiling in response, just enough for a hint of the dimples to show.
“Probably not. He doesn’t play well. Just minor league. He moves around a lot.”
“And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him.” She said it as an assumption again, not a question.
My hunched shoulders straightened automatically. “No, she didn’t. I sent myself.”
Her eyebrows pushed together. “I don’t understand,” she admitted, and she seemed more frustrated by that fact than she should be.
I sighed. Why was I explaining this to her? She stared at me, waiting.
“She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie.” My voice was glum by the time I finished.
“But now you’re unhappy,” she pointed out.
“And?” I challenged.
“That doesn’t seem fair.” She shrugged, but her eyes were still intense.
I laughed once. “Haven’t you heard? Life isn’t fair.”
“I believe I have heard that somewhere before,” she agreed dryly.
“So that’s it,” I insisted, wondering why she was still staring at me that way.
Her head tilted to the side, and her gold eyes seemed to laser right through the surface of my skin. “You put on a good show,” she said slowly. “But I’d be willing to bet that you’re suffering more than you let anyone see.”
I shrugged. “I repeat… And?”
“I don’t entirely understand you, that’s all.”
I frowned. “Why would you want to?”
“That’s a very good question,” she murmured, so quietly that I wondered if she was talking to herself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get.
It was awkward, just looking at each other, but she didn’t look away. I wanted to keep staring at her face, but I was afraid she was wondering what was wrong with me for staring so much, so finally I turned toward the blackboard. She sighed.
I glanced back, and she was still looking at me, but her expression was different… a little frustrated, or irritated.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “Did I… Am I annoying you?”
She shook her head and smiled with half her mouth so that one dimple popped out. “No, if anything, I’m annoyed with myself.”
“Why?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Reading people… it usually comes very easily to me. But I can’t—I guess I don’t know quite what to make of you. Is that funny?”
I flattened out my grin. “More… unexpected. My mom always calls me her open book. According to her, you can all but read my thoughts printing out across my forehead.”
Her smile vanished and she half-glared into my eyes, not angry like before, just intense. As if she was trying hard to read that printout my mom had seen. Then, switching gears just as abruptly, she was smiling again.
“I suppose I’ve gotten overconfident.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. “Um, sorry?”
She laughed, and the sound was like music, though I couldn’t think of the instrument to compare it to. Her teeth were perfect—no surprise there—and blinding white.
Mrs. Banner called the class to order then, and I was relieved to give her my attention. It was a little too intense, making small talk with Edythe. I felt dizzy in a strange way. Had I really just detailed my boring life to this bizarre, beautiful girl who might or might not hate me? She’d seemed almost too interested in what I had to say, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that she was leaning away from me again, her hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.
I tried to focus as Mrs. Banner went through the lab with transparencies on the overhead projector, but my thoughts were far away from the lecture.
When the bell rang, Edythe rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as she had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after her with my jaw hanging open.
McKayla got to my table almost as quickly.
“That was awful,” she said. “They all looked exactly the same. You’re lucky you had Edythe for a partner.”
“Yeah, she seemed to know her way around an onion root.”
“She was friendly enough today,” McKayla commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. She didn’t sound happy about it.