Page 51 of Life and Death
The next thing I was aware of was the sound of Charlie’s car turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up, surprised that the light was gone and I was deep in the shadow of the trees now. I must have fallen asleep. I looked around, still half out of it, with the sudden feeling that I wasn’t alone.
“Charlie?” I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.
I jumped up, feeling edgy and also stupid for feeling that way, and grabbed the quilt and my book. I hurried inside to get some oil heating on the stove; thanks to my nap, dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.
“Sorry, dinner’s not ready yet—I fell asleep outside.” I yawned hugely.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I wanted to catch the score on the game anyway.”
I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn’t anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn’t care about baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my idiotic depression, to make him happy.
“FYI, Dad,” I said during a commercial, “I’m going to a movie with some of the guys from school tomorrow night, so you’ll be on your own.”
“Anyone I know?” he asked.
Who didn’t he know here? “Jeremy Stanley, Allen Weber, and Logan whatever-his-last-name-is.”
“Mallory,” he told me.
“If you say so.”
“Fine, but it’s a school night, so don’t go crazy.”
“We’re leaving right after school, so we won’t be too late. You want me to put something out for your dinner?”
“Beau, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here,” he reminded me.
“I don’t know how you survived,” I muttered.
Everything felt less gloomy in the morning—it was sunny again—but I tried not to get my hopes up. I dressed for the warmer weather in a thin sweater—something I’d worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.
I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. My mood quickly deteriorated while I circled the full lot looking for a space . . . and also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there.
It was the same as yesterday—I just couldn’t keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table. What if she never came back? What if I never saw her again?
The Port Angeles plan was back on again for tonight, and it was all the more welcome because Logan couldn’t make it. I couldn’t wait to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see her appearing out of the blue the way she always did. I committed to being in a good mood so that I wouldn’t annoy Jeremy and Allen. Maybe I could find a decent bookstore while I was out. I didn’t want to think that I might be looking alone in Seattle this weekend. She wouldn’t really cancel without even telling me, would she? But then, who knew what social rules vampires felt compelled to follow?
After school, Jeremy followed me home in his old white Mercury so that I could ditch my truck, and then we headed to Allen’s. He was waiting for us. My mood started to lift as we drove out of the town limits.
8. PORT ANGELES
JEREMY DROVE FASTER THAN THECHIEF, SO WE MADE IT TOPORTAngeles by four. He took us to the florist first, where the glossy woman behind the counter quickly upsold Allen from roses to orchids. Allen made decisions fast, but it took Jeremy a lot longer to figure out what he wanted. The saleswoman made it sound like all the details would be really important to the girls, but I had a hard time believing anyone could care that much.
While Jeremy debated ribbon colors with the woman, Allen and I sat on a bench by the plate glass windows.
“Hey, Allen . . .”
He looked up, probably noticing the edge in my voice. “Yeah?”
I tried to sound more like I was just randomly curious, like I didn’t care what the answer was.
“Do the, uh, Cullens miss school a lot—I mean, is that normal for them?”
Allen looked over his shoulder through the window while he answered, and I was sure he was being nice. No doubt he could see how awkward I felt asking, despite how hard I was trying to play it cool.
“Yeah, when the weather’s good they go backpacking all the time—even the doctor. They’re all really into nature or something.”
He didn’t ask one question, or make one snide comment about my obvious and pathetic crush. Allen was probably the nicest kid at Forks High School.
