As the engine purred quietly to life, she played with a few dials, turning the heat on and the music down.
“Is that ‘Clair de Lune’?” I asked.
She glanced at me, surprised. “You’re a fan of Debussy?”
I shrugged. “My mom plays a lot of classical stuff around the house. I only know my favorites.”
“It’s one of my favorites, too.”
“Well, imagine that,” I said. “We have something in common.”
I expected her to laugh, but she only stared out through the rain.
I relaxed against the light gray seat, responding automatically to the familiar melody. Because I was mostly watching her from the corner of my eye, the rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. It took me a minute to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so smoothly I didn’t feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.
“What’s your mother like?” she asked suddenly.
Her butterscotch eyes studied me curiously while I answered.
“She kind of looks like me—same eyes, same color hair—but she’s short. She’s an extrovert, and pretty brave. She’s also slightly eccentric, a little irresponsible, and a very unpredictable cook. She was my best friend.” I stopped. It made me depressed to talk about her in the past tense.
“How old are you, Beau?” Her voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn’t imagine.
The car stopped, and I realized we were at Charlie’s house already. The rain had really picked up, so heavy now that I could barely see the house. It was like the car was submerged in a vertical river.
“I’m seventeen,” I said, a little confused by her tone.
“You don’t seem seventeen,” she said—it was like an accusation.
I laughed.
“What?” she demanded.
“My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year.” I laughed again, and then sighed. “Well, someone has to be the adult.” I paused for a second. “You don’t seem much like a junior in high school, either.”
She made a face and changed the subject.
“Why did your mother marry Phil?”
I was surprised that she remembered Phil’s name; I was sure I’d only said it once, almost two months ago. It took me a second to answer.
“My mom… she’s very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. Anyway, she’s crazy about him.” Personally I didn’t see it, but did anyone ever think anyone was good enough for his mom?
“Do you approve?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I want her to be happy, and he’s who she wants.”
“That’s very generous.… I wonder…”
“What?”
“Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?” Her eyes were suddenly intent, searching mine.
“I—I think so,” I stuttered. “But she’s the adult—on paper at least. It’s a little different.”
Her face relaxed. “No one too scary, then,” she teased.
I grinned back. “What do you mean by scary? Tattoos and facial piercings?”
“That’s one definition, I suppose.”
“What’s your definition?”
She ignored me and asked another question. “Do you think I could be scary?” She raised one eyebrow.
I pretended to examine her face for a minute, just as an excuse to stare at her, my favorite thing to do.
Her features were so delicate, so symmetrical. Her face would stop anyone in his tracks, but it wouldn’t make him run in the other direction. The opposite.
“It’s kind of hard to imagine that,” I admitted.
She frowned to herself.
“But, I mean, I’m sure you could be, if you wanted to.”
She tilted her head and gave me an exasperated smile, but didn’t say anything else.
“So are you going to tell me about your family?” I asked. “It’s got to be a much more interesting story than mine.”
She was instantly cautious. “What do you want to know?”
“The Cullens adopted you?”
“Yes.”
I hesitated for a minute. “What happened to your parents?”
“They died many years ago.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t really remember them clearly. Carine and Earnest have been my parents for a long time now.”
“And you love them.” It wasn’t a question. It was obvious in the way she said their names.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I can’t imagine two better people.”
“Then you’re very lucky.”
“I know it.”
“And your brother and sister?”
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard.
“My brother and sister, and Jessamine and Royal for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me.”
“Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go.”
It was stupid, but I didn’t want to get out of the car.
“And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home and you have to explain about the syncopal episode.”
She was good with the medical jargon, but then, her mother was a doctor.
“I’m sure he’s already heard. There are no secrets in Forks,” I grumbled.
Apparently I’d said something funny, but I couldn’t guess what it was, or why there was an edge to her laughter.
“Have fun at the beach,” she said when she was finished. “Good weather for sunbathing.” She gestured to the sheeting rain.
“Won’t I see you tomorrow?”
“No. Eleanor and I are starting the weekend early.”
“What are you going to do?” A friend could ask that, right? I hoped she couldn’t hear the disappointment in my voice.
“We’ll be hiking the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.”
“Oh, sounds fun.”
She smiled. “Will you do something for me this weekend?” She turned to look me straight in the eyes, her own burning in their hypnotic way.
I nodded, helpless. Anything, I could have said, and it would have been true.
“Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. Try not to fall into the ocean or get run over by anything, all right?”
She flashed her dimples at me, which took away some of the sting of being called incompetent.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I promised.
I jumped out into the vertical river and ran for the porch. By the time I turned around, the Volvo had disappeared.
“Oh!” I clutched at my jacket pocket, remembering that I’d forgotten to give her my key.
The pocket was empty.
6. SCARY STORIES
WHILE I TRIED TO CONCENTRATE ON THE THIRD ACT OF Macbeth, I was listening for my truck. I would have thought I’d hear the engine’s roar even over the pounding rain. But when I went to look out the window again, it was suddenly there.
I wasn’t super excited to get up on Friday, and it more than lived up to my negative expectations. Of course there were all the fainting comments. Jeremy especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. He laughed till he choked when Logan pretended to swoon at the lunch table. Luckily, McKayla had kept her mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edythe’s involvement. Jeremy did have a lot of questions about yesterday’s lunch, though.
“What did Edythe Cullen want?” he’d asked in Trig.
“Not sure.” It was the truth. “She never really got to the point.”
“She looked kind of mad.”
I’d shrugged. “Did she?”
“I’ve never seen her sit with anyone but her family before. That was weird.”
“Yeah, weird,” I’d agreed.
He’d seemed kind of irritated that I didn’t have better answers.