小说搜索     点击排行榜   最新入库
首页 » 双语小说 » 暮光之城:暮色 Twilight » Chapter 2 Open Book
选择底色: 选择字号:【大】【中】【小】
Chapter 2 Open Book

    The next day was better… and worse.

  It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were denseand opaque. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day. Mikecame to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with ChessClub Eric glaring at him all the while; that was nattering. People didn'tlook at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group atlunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whosenames and faces I now remembered. I began to feel like I was treadingwater, instead of drowning in it.

  It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the windechoing around the house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me inTrig when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer. It wasmiserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn'tcringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it.

  And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn't in school at all.

  All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre glares. Part of mewanted to confront him and demand to know what his problem was. While Iwas lying sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I would say. But Iknew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to do it. Imade the Cowardly Lion look like the terminator.

  But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica — trying to keep myeyes from sweeping the place for him, and failing entirely — I saw thathis four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, andhe was not with them.

  Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated bythe attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried tolisten to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waitingnervously for the moment he would arrive. I hoped that he would simplyignore me when he came, and prove my suspicions false.

  He didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense.

  I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, hestill hadn't showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a goldenretriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at thedoor, but Edward Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled and went to myseat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. Helingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfullyand went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like Iwas going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy. Ina town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacywas essential. I had never been enormously tactful; I had no practicedealing with overly friendly boys.

  I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edward was absent. Itold myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the naggingsuspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there. It was ridiculous, andegotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. It wasimpossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true.

  When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of mycheeks from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my jeansand navy blue sweater. I hurried from the girls' locker room, pleased tofind that I had successfully evaded my retriever friend for the moment. Iwalked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeingstudents. I got in my truck and dug through my bag to make sure I hadwhat I needed.

  Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides friedeggs and bacon. So I requested that I be assigned kitchen detail for theduration of my stay. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to thebanquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in the house. So I hadmy shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way to the Thriftway.

  I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned inmy direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars thatwere waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend thatthe earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, I saw the twoCullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It was the shiny newVolvo. Of course. I hadn't noticed their clothes before — I'd been toomesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obvious that theywere all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtlyhinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the stylewith which they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags andpulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and money.

  But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. Itdidn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here.

  No, I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; Icouldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree ofbeauty.

  They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else.

  I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was freeof the school grounds.

  The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, offthe highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. Idid the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiartask gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear thetapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was.

  When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in whereverI could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrappedpotatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak inmarinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.

  When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Beforestarting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damphair up into a pony-tail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I hadthree messages.

  "Bella," my mom wrote…Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is itraining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, butI can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi.

  Mom.

  I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.

  "Bella," she wrote…Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom.

  The last was from this morning.

  Isabella,If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie.

  I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun.

  Mom,Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash.

  Bella.

  I sent that, and began again.

  Mom,Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for somethingto write about. School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met somenice kids who sit by me at lunch.

  Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it upFriday.

  Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, butreally sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.

  I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check mye-mail every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you.

  Bella.

  I had decided to read Wuthering Heights — the novel we were currentlystudying in English — yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I wasdoing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurrieddownstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.

  "Bella?" my father called out when he heard me on the stairs.

  Who else? I thought to myself.

  "Hey, Dad, welcome home.""Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as Ibustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gunon the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he wouldalways remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess heconsidered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and notdepressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.

  "What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook,and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, thathe seemed to remember that far back.

  "Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved.

  He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; helumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We were bothmore comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, andset the table.

  I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively ashe walked into the room.

  "Smells good, Bell.""Thanks."We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited forliving together.

  "So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" he asked as hewas taking seconds.

  "Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with herfriends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly.

  Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception.

  "That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid — nice family. His dad owns thesporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off allthe backpackers who come through here.""Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked hesitantly.

  "Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man.""They… the kids… are a little different. They don't seem to fit in verywell at school."Charlie surprised me by looking angry.

  "People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeonwho could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times thesalary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to havehim — lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an assetto the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. Ihad my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adoptedteenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they'reall very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them.

  That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have livedin this town for generations. And they stick together the way a familyshould — camping trips every other weekend… Just because they'renewcomers, people have to talk."It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feelstrongly about whatever people were saying.

  I backpedaled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they keptto themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be morecomplimentary.

  "You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thinghe's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hardtime concentrating on their work with him around."We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the tablewhile I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after Ifinished washing the dishes by hand — no dishwasher — I went upstairsunwillingly to work on my math homework. I could feel a tradition in themaking.

  That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted.

  The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of myclasses. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all thestudents at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass methe ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried totake advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way.

  Edward Cullen didn't come back to school.

  Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered thecafeteria without him. Then I could relax and join in the lunchtimeconversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Parkin two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I hadagreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hotand dry.

  By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, nolonger worried that Edward would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn't totallysuppress the worry that I was responsible for his continued absence,ridiculous as it seemed.

  My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused tospending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. Icleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my mom morebogusly cheerful e-mail. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it wasso poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; I would have tomake a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. Iwondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got… and shuddered atthe thought.

  The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.

  People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know alltheir names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder thismorning, but happily not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomedseat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It wasstraightforward, very easy.

  All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought Iwould feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever expected tofeel here.

  When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white.

  I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at mycheeks, my nose.

  "Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along thesidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

  "Ew." Snow. There went my good day.

  He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?""No. That means it's too cold for rain." Obviously. "Besides, I thoughtit was supposed to come down in flakes — you know, each one unique andall that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips.""Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" he asked incredulously.

  "Sure I have." I paused. "On TV."Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked intothe back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had mysuspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us — in thewrong direction for his next class. Mike appatently had the same notion.

  He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush.

  "I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once peoplestart throwing wet stuff, I go inside."He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.

  Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow;apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouthshut. Sure, it was drier than rain — until it melted in your socks.

  I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush ballswere flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as ashield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in myexpression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.

  Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with icemelting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedlyabout the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward thattable in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. Therewere five people at the table.

   Jessica pulled on my arm.

  "Hello? Bella? What do you want?"I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious,I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

  "What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica.

  "Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to theend of the line.

  "Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked.

  "Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor.

  I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table,my eyes on my feet.

  I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, withunnecessary concern, how I was feeling.

  I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up andescape to the nurse's office for the next hour.

  Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.

  I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If hewas glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was.

  I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them werelooking this way. I lifted my head a little.

  They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hairentirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning awayas Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying thesnowy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like a scenefrom a movie than the rest of us.

  But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was somethingdifferent, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. Iexamined Edward the most carefully. His skin was less pale, I decided —flushed from the snow fight maybe — the circles under his eyes much lessnoticeable. But there was something more. I pondered, staring, trying toisolate the change.

  "Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following mystare.

  At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine.

  I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure,though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harsh orunfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curiousagain, unsatisfied in some way.

  "Edward Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear.

  "He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help asking.

  "No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should he be?""I don't think he likes me," I confided. I still felt queasy. I put myhead down on my arm.

  "The Cullens don't like anybody… well, they don't notice anybody enoughto like them. But he's still staring at you.""Stop looking at him," I hissed.

  She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make surethat she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.

   Mike interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of the blizzardin the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreedenthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that shewould be up for anything he suggested. I kept silent. I would have tohide in the gym until the parking lot cleared.

  For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my owntable. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since hedidn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did frightenedlittle flips at the thought of sitting next to him again.

  I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual — he seemed tobe a popular target for the snowball snipers — but when we went to thedoor, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing alltraces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of thewalkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to gostraight home after Gym.

  Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

  Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was stillempty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing onemicroscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a fewminutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away fromthe door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.

  I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayedcarefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.

  "Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.

  I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as faraway from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. Hishair was dripping wet, disheveled — even so, he looked like he'd justfinished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face wasfriendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes werecareful.

  "My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance tointroduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? Hewas perfectly polite now. I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn'tthink of anything conventional to say.

  "H-how do you know my name?" I stammered.

  He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.

  "Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting foryou to arrive."I grimaced. I knew it was something like that.

  "No," I persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"He seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?""No, I like Bella," I said. "But I think Charlie — I mean my dad — mustcall me Isabella behind my back — that's what everyone here seems to knowme as," I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron.

  "Oh." He let it drop. I looked away awkwardly.

  Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried toconcentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slidesin the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separatethe slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis theyrepresented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use ourbooks. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had itright.

   "Get started," he commanded.

  "Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. I looked up to see him smiling acrooked smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him like an idiot.

  "Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviouslywondering if I was mentally competent.

  "No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead."I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab, and I knewwhat I was looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first slide intoplace under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective.

  I studied the slide briefly.

  My assessment was confident. "Prophase.""Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to remove the slide. Hishand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold,like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn'twhy I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung myhand as if an electric current had passed through us.

  "I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, hecontinued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, still staggered, ashe examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had.

  "Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on ourworksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, andthen glanced at it cursorily.

  "Anaphase," he murmured, writing it down as he spoke.

  I kept my voice indifferent. "May I?"He smirked and pushed the microscope to me.

  I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it,he was right.

  "Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at him.

  He handed it to me; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch myskin again.

  I took the most fleeting look I could manage.

  "Interphase." I passed him the microscope before he could ask for it. Hetook a swift peek, and then wrote it down. I would have written it whilehe looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated me. I didn't want tospoil the page with my clumsy scrawl.

  We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and hispartner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had theirbook open under the table.

  Which left me with nothing to do but try to not look at him…unsuccessfully. I glanced up, and he was staring at me, that sameinexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly I identified thatsubtle difference in his face.

  "Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly.

  He seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. "No.""Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about youreyes."He shrugged, and looked away.

  In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color of his eyes the last time he'd glared at me — thecolor was striking against the background of his pale skin and his auburnhair. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher,darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. I didn'tunderstand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason aboutthe contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the literal sense ofthe word.

  I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists again.

  Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. Helooked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then staredmore intently to check the answers.

  "So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with themicroscope?" Mr. Banner asked.

  "Bella," Edward corrected automatically. "Actually, she identified threeof the five."Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical.

  "Have you done this lab before?" he asked.

  I smiled sheepishly. "Not with onion root.""Whitefish blastula?""Yeah."Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?""Yes.""Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are labpartners." He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, Ibegan doodling on my notebook again.

  "It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward asked. I had the feelingthat he was forcing himself to make small talk with me. Paranoia sweptover me again. It was like he had heard my conversation with Jessica atlunch and was trying to prove me wrong.

  "Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normallike everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling ofsuspicion, and I couldn't concentrate.

  "You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.

  "Or the wet.""Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused.

  "You have no idea," I muttered darkly.

  He looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine.

  His face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any morethan courtesy absolutely demanded.

  "Why did you come here, then?"No one had asked me that — not straight out like he did, demanding.

  "It's… complicated.""I think I can keep up," he pressed.

  I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting hisgaze. His dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.

  "My mother got remarried," I said.

   "That doesn't sound so complex," he disagreed, but he was suddenlysympathetic. "When did that happen?""Last September." My voice sounded sad, even to me.

  "And you don't like him," Edward surmised, his tone still kind.

  "No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough.""Why didn't you stay with them?"I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me withpenetrating eyes, as if my dull life's story was somehow vitallyimportant.

  "Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living." I half-smiled.

  "Have I heard of him?" he asked, smiling in response.

  "Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He movesaround a lot.""And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." Hesaid it as an assumption again, not a question.

  My chin raised a fraction. "No, she did not send me here. I sent myself."His eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he admitted, and heseemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.

  I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him? He continued to stare at mewith obvious curiosity.

  "She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… soI decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie." My voicewas glum by the time I finished.

  "But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.

  "And?" I challenged.

  "That doesn't seem fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were still intense.

  I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair.""I believe I have heard that somewhere before," he agreed dryly.

  "So that's all," I insisted, wondering why he was still staring at methat way.

  His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly.

  "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyonesee."I grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like afive-year-old, and looked away.

  "Am I wrong?"I tried to ignore him.

  "I didn't think so," he murmured smugly.

  "Why does it matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away,watching the teacher make his rounds.

  "That's a very good question," he muttered, so quietly that I wondered ifhe was talking to himself. However, after a few seconds of silence, Idecided that was the only answer I was going to get.

  I sighed, scowling at the blackboard.

   "Am I annoying you?" he asked. He sounded amused.

  I glanced at him without thinking… and told the truth again. "Notexactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read — mymother always calls me her open book." I frowned.

  "On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everythingthat I'd said and he'd guessed, he sounded like he meant it.

  "You must be a good reader then," I replied.

  "Usually." He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth.

  Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief tolisten. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to thisbizarre, beautiful boy who may or may not despise me. He'd seemedengrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of myeye, that he was leaning away from me again, his hands gripping the edgeof the table with unmistakable tension.

  I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, withtransparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen withoutdifficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable.

  When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and as gracefullyfrom the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I staredafter him in amazement.

  Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imaginedhim with a wagging tail.

  "That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You'relucky you had Cullen for a partner.""I didn't have any trouble with it," I said, stung by his assumption. Iregretted the snub instantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I addedbefore he could get his feelings hurt.

  "Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he commented as we shrugged intoour raincoats. He didn't seem pleased about it.

  I tried to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with him last Monday."I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to Gym, and RE.

  didn't do much to hold my attention, either. Mike was on my team today.

  He chivalrously covered my position as well as his own, so mywoolgathering was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve; my teamducked warily out of the way every time I was up.

  The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I washappier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once notcaring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket,put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dryit on the way home.

  I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed thestill, white figure. Edward Cullen was leaning against the front door ofthe Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction.

  I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting arusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on thebrake in time. It was just the sort of car that my truck would make scrapmetal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of mycar, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I staredstraight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I wouldswear I saw him laughing.

第二章 开卷

第二天要好些,也更糟糕。

更好些是因为它不再下雨了,但云层依然又厚又密。这一天要容易些,因为我知道这一天都有什么可期待。迈克英语课上和我坐在一起,然后陪我去下一堂课,一路上说个不停,而“象棋俱乐部”埃里克始终瞪着他。人们不再像昨天那样老盯着我看了。午餐时我和一大群人坐在一起,包括迈克,埃里克,杰西卡,还有一些别的名字和面孔我都不记得的人。我开始感到像是踏在了水面上,而不是被水淹没。

更糟糕是因为我很疲倦。夜里风声在屋里回荡,我一直无法入睡。更糟糕是因为瓦尔纳老师在三角课上叫我起来回答问题,而那时我并没有举手,而且我还答错了。这是悲惨的一天,因为我不得不开始打排球,而且有一次我没能从球的来路中躲开,而把它打到了我队友的头上。这一天更糟糕,是因为爱德华?卡伦没有来学校。

整个早上我都在惧怕着午餐,害怕他异乎寻常的怒视。我的一部分想要对抗他,要求知道他的问题所在。当我无法入睡,只能躺在床上时,我甚至想象着我该怎么说。但我太了解我自己了,我不认为我有这个胆量去做这件事。我让胆小的狮子看起来像个终结者。

当我和杰西卡一起走进自助餐厅的时候,我努力不让自己偷瞄他所在的地方,但没有成功——我看见他的四个风格迥异的兄弟姐妹一起坐在昨天的那张桌子旁,但他不在那里。

迈克拦住我们,要我们坐到他那张桌子去。杰西卡看上去很乐意得到他的注意,她的朋友们也很快就加入了我们。但在我努力去听他们轻松的谈话的同时,我仍然不安地等待着他进来的那个让人提心吊胆的时刻。我希望他进来时不会注意到我,以证明我的多疑是错误的。

他没有进来,而随着时间的推移,我越来越紧张不安。

午餐时间结束时,他依然没有出现,因此我更加充满信心地去上生物课。迈克表现出了金毛寻回犬的优良品质,忠实地陪着我去教室。在门边上我屏住了呼吸,但爱德华?卡伦也不在那里。我松了一口气,向我的位置走去。迈克一路跟着我,谈论着一次即将到来的沙滩之旅。他一直待在我的桌子旁直到铃声响起。然后他满怀希望地向我笑了笑,回去坐到一个戴着牙套,烫着可怕的波浪发的女孩旁边。看来我得对迈克做点什么了,但这不太容易。在这样一个小镇里,每个人都对别人了如指掌,因而采取一些策略是十分必要的。我不会做得很老练;关于应付过分热情的男孩我没有任何经验。

我很高兴我能一个人占据整张桌子,因为爱德华不在。我一而再再而三地这样告诉自己。但我无法逃避这样的疑虑:他不在这里是因为我。认为我能够这样强烈地影响某人,这种想法实在太过荒谬,也太过自负了。这是不可能的。但我还是无法停止担心,担心这是真的。

这一天的课程都结束以后,我一直等到脸上被排球打到的擦伤不那么红时,才迅速换上我的牛仔裤和海军蓝色的毛衣。我快步走出女生更衣室,愉快地发现我终于成功地暂时甩开了我的寻回犬朋友。我迅速走到停车场,现在这里挤满了急于离开的学生。我钻进卡车里,检查了一下书包以确认没有落下什么东西。

昨天晚上我终于发现查理除了煎蛋和熏肉什么也不会做。所以我要求在我住在这里的这段时间里由我接管厨房。他相当乐意地交出了打理三餐的权力。(这句原文是交出了the keys to the banquet hall,我琢磨了很久,还是觉得这样翻比较顺)我也发现他家里已经没有食物了。所以我列了一张购物清单,从橱柜里标着“伙食费”的罐头里拿了钱,现在只需直奔平价超市。(我决定把“thriftway”意译,音译实在很诡异。。。)

我踩下油门,发动了轰隆隆的引擎,无视一堆向我方向转过头来的脑袋,小心翼翼地把车倒进等着离开停车场的车队长龙中。当我在队伍里等着,假装那个震耳欲聋的轰鸣是别人的车发出的时候,我看到卡伦两兄妹和黑尔双胞胎钻进了他们的车里。是那辆闪闪发光的沃尔沃。当然,也只能是他们的。我之前没有注意到他们的衣着——我太着迷于他们的面孔了。现在我看到,很显然他们的穿着出奇地好;式样简洁,但明显是出自设计师之手。有这样出众的外形,这样优雅的姿态,他们就算穿着破抹布也能出人头地。居然能够同时拥有美貌与财富,他们好得有些过分了。但就我所能告诉你的,生活大多数时候都是公平的。看起来他们拥有的一切并没能让他们在这里得到认同。

不,我并不完全坚信这一点。似乎是他们自己把自己隔离起来了;我不能想象对于这样优秀的人生活中会有哪扇门推不开。

在我开车经过他们车旁时,他们和别人一样,都扭过头来看着我这辆隆隆作响的卡车。我坚持着直视前方,直到逃出校园以后,才终于感觉到得救了。
平价超市离学校不远,只隔着几条马路,紧挨着高速公路。呆在超市里是件很惬意的事:这里感觉正常多了。在家时我负责购物,所以我很高兴能投入到同样的工作中。超市里很大,呆在这里我听不到打在屋顶上噼啪作响的雨声,可以忘记身在何处。

回到家后,我把买回来的东西从车上搬下来,塞满了我能找到的每一块空间。我希望查理不会介意。我把马铃薯裹上锡箔,塞进烤箱里,给一块牛排浇上酱汁,搁在冰箱里的鸡蛋盒上。

做完这些以后,我拿起书包走上楼。在开始写作业以前,我先换了一件干爽的毛衣,把湿漉漉的头发扎成马尾,然后去检查电子邮件。我有三封邮件。

“贝拉,”是我妈发来的。

“你一到那边就发邮件给我。告诉我你一路飞得是否顺利。下雨了吗?我已经开始想念你了。我刚刚打包好去加利福尼亚的行李,但我找不到我那件粉色外套了。你知道我放哪儿了吗?菲尔向你问好。妈妈。“

我叹了口气,翻到下一封邮件。这封邮件和上一封邮件隔了八个小时。

“贝拉,”她写到。

“为什么你还没有发邮件给我?你在等什么?妈妈。”

最后一封是今天早上收到的。

“伊莎贝拉,

如果今晚五点半我还没收到你的消息,我就要打电话给查理了。”

我看了看钟。还有一个小时,但我妈爱抢跑是出了名的。

“妈妈,

冷静点。我现在就写。别冲动。

贝拉。”

我发出这封邮件,然后开始写下一封。

“妈妈,

一切都很好。当然这里一直在下雨。我只是在等有什么可写的。学校不算太糟,只是有点单调。我认识了一些不错的孩子,他们午餐时和我坐在一起。

你的外套在干洗店——你应该周五去把它取回来。

查理给我买了辆卡车,你信不信?我喜欢这辆车。它有些年头了,但相当坚固,你知道,这对我来说再好不过了。

我也很想你。我很快会再写邮件给你的,但我不可能每五分钟检查一次邮件。

放轻松,深呼吸,我爱你。

贝拉。”

我开始看《呼啸山庄》——我们的英语课正在学这部小说——再看一遍纯粹是为了消遣。我正在看书的时候,查理回来了。我看得太入神,以至于忘了时间。我冲下楼,把马铃薯拿出来,开始烤牛排。

“是贝拉吗?”爸爸听到我下楼的声音,问道。

还能有谁?我暗自想着。

“嗨,爸爸,欢迎回家。”

“谢谢。”他把枪挂在墙上。趁我还在厨房里忙活,他把靴子换了下来。就我所知,他还不曾在执行公务的时候开过枪。但他总是时刻准备着。当我还小,来这里住着的时候,他总是一进门就把子弹给卸下来了。我猜他是觉得我够大了,不会因为枪走火而伤着自己,也没有沮丧到要饮弹自杀尽。

“晚饭吃什么?”他警惕地问。我的母亲是个富有创意的厨子,但她的试验品通常都难以下咽。我既惊异,又难过:他居然到现在还记着这件事。

“牛排和马铃薯。”我回答道。他看起来松了一口气。

我忙着的时候,他似乎觉得在厨房里干站着太傻,就笨拙地走到起居室里看电视去了。那样我们都会更轻松些。趁牛排还在锅里烤着,我做了份沙拉,摆好餐具。

等晚饭准备好后,我喊他过来吃饭。他走进屋子时,满意地嗅着。

“闻着不错,贝拉。”

“谢谢。”

我们静静地吃了一会儿。这种感觉很自在。我们都不会因为沉默而难受。在某种意义上来说,我们很适合住在一起。

“嗯,你觉得学校怎样?有没有交到什么新朋友?”又过了一会儿,他问道。.

“嗯,我和一个叫杰西卡的女孩一起上了几节课。午餐时我和她的朋友们坐在一起。还有一个叫迈克的男孩,人很不错。大家都很友好。”除了某位人物。

“那一定是迈克?牛顿。不错的孩子——家境也不错。他爸爸在离镇上不远的地方开了家运动装备商店。他在路过这里的徒步旅行者身上赚了不少钱。”

“你知道卡伦一家吗?”我迟疑地问。

“卡伦医生一家?当然。卡伦医生是个好人。”

“他们……那些孩子……有些不太一样。他们似乎不太适应这里的学校。”

查理气愤的表情把我吓到了。

“镇上这些人!”他喃喃地说。“卡伦医生是一位出色的外科医师,他在世界上任何别的医院工作都能挣到十倍于这儿的工资,”他越说越响。“能得到他是我们走运——因为他太太喜欢住在小镇上。他是这个社区的财富。他的孩子们个个都行为端正,礼貌得体。他们刚搬来时我也曾对这些这个年纪被收养的孩子产生过疑虑。但他们都很懂事——他们从没给我惹过哪怕一丁点的麻烦。而有些世世代代住在镇上的家伙,他们的孩子我简直没法说。而且他们确实像一家人那样团结——每两周就去一次露营……只不过因为他们是新来的,人们就对他们说长道短。”

这是我听过的查理一口气说出的最长的话。他一定是对人们的流言蜚语气愤得不得了。

我改口说道:“他们似乎对我还算不错。我只是注意到他们总是独来独往。他们都很引人注目。”我补充道,努力想要表现得更赞赏些。

“你应该见见那个医生,”查理大笑着说。“他婚姻美满实在是件好事。当他在附近时,医院里的很多护士都很难集中注意力工作。”
我们吃过饭后,再度陷入了沉默。我开始洗盘子时,他动手收拾桌子,然后回去看电视。我洗完盘子后——用手洗,因为没有洗碗机——不太情愿地上楼去写数学作业。我可以感觉到某种一成不变的生活模式正在形成。

这天夜里很安静,我感到精疲力竭,很快就睡着了。

这一周就这样平静地过去了。我开始习惯每天例行公事的课表。周五的时候我几乎已经认得全校的学生了,只是还叫不全名字。体育课上,我的队友已经吸取教训,不再传球给我了。如果别的队试图利用我这个弱点,他们会尽快地冲到我前面。我很高兴地给他们让开路。

爱德华?卡伦还是没有来学校。

每一天,我都不安地看着门口,直到那群卡伦家的孩子走进自助餐厅,不包括他。这时我才会安下心来,加入到午餐时间的谈话中。通常这些对话都只围绕着迈克组织的,两周后的拉普什海洋公园之旅开展。我也被邀请了,我也同意了,更多是出于礼貌而非自愿。海滩应该是既炎热又干爽的。

星期五的时候我怡然自得地走进生物课教室,不再担心爱德华会在那里。就我所知,他已经退学了。我试着不去想他,但我还是按捺不住自己的忧虑:我也许是造成他持续缺勤的罪魁祸首。但这似乎太荒谬了。

我在福克斯的第一个周末无惊无险地过去了。查理还是老样子,不愿意呆在空荡荡的屋子里消磨时间,把周末都耗在了工作上。而我打扫了房子,顺利完成了家庭作业,给我妈又写了几封假装快活的邮件。周六我有开车去图书馆,但那里的藏书少得可怜,我也懒得办借书证了。或许最近我该去趟奥林匹亚或者西雅图,找家不错的书店。我懒洋洋地想着这辆卡车开过去每英里得耗多少油——然后不寒而栗。

周末时雨变得小多了,安安静静的,所以我睡得很好。

星期一早上,停车场里的人都向我打招呼。我还不知道他们所有人的名字,但我还是向每个人微笑着招手致意。今天早上气温又降了,但我很高兴没有下雨。英语课上,迈克照旧坐在我旁边。我们简单地聊了一下《呼啸山庄》,既坦然又轻松。

最重要的是,这样的相处比我所想过的还要更自在。在这里我过得比我期望过的还有自在。

当我们走出教室时,天空里落下了无数打着旋儿的小白点。我能听到人们兴奋地大喊着。风拍打着我的脸,我的鼻子。

“哇,”迈克说。“下雪了。”

我看着这些小小的棉絮逐渐堆积在人行道上,时不时打着旋儿掠过我的脸。

“呃。”雪。我的好日子一去不返了。

他看上去很吃惊。“你不喜欢雪吗?”

“不喜欢。这意味着冷得都不能下雨了。”显而易见。“还有,我觉得雪应该是一片一片地飘落下来——你知道,每一片都是独一无二的,所有的雪都是这样。这些雪看起来像棉花棒上的小棉球。”

“你之前没见过下雪吗?”他怀疑地问道。

“当然有,”我顿了顿。“在电视上。”

迈克大笑起来。然后,一个巨大的、松软的雪球不偏不倚地砸在了他后脑勺上。我们都回过头去看是谁干的。我怀疑是埃里克,他正背对着我们走开——但不是向他下一堂课的方向。迈克显然也这样认为。他弯下腰,团起一堆白色的雪泥。

“我们午餐时见,好吗?”我一边说着一边走开。“人们一开始打雪仗,我就跑进去。”

他只是点点头,紧盯着埃里克后退的身影。

整个上午,每个人都在兴奋着谈论着这场雪。显然这是新的一年里下的第一场雪。我一直抿紧双唇。当然,这比下雨要干燥些——直到它在你靴子里融化开来。

下了西班牙语课,我和杰西卡走向自助餐厅,一路上保持着警惕的姿势。雪球到处飞来飞去。我手里拿着一个文件夹,预备着必要时拿来当挡箭牌。杰西卡觉得我很恶搞,但看见了我的表情以后,她放弃了向我扔个雪球的打算。

我们刚进门,迈克就追上了我们。他大笑着,头发上沾满了融化的冰渣。当我们排队买食物的时候,他和杰西卡兴致勃勃地谈论着刚刚那场雪仗。我出于习惯,瞥了一眼角落里的那张桌子。然后,我僵在了那里。那张桌子旁坐着五个人。 
 杰西卡拉住我的手。 

“喂?贝拉?你想吃点什么?” 

我低下头,耳朵都发热了。我没有必要这样自觉,我提醒自己。我又没有做错什么。 

“贝拉怎么了?”迈克问杰西卡。 

“没事,”我答道。“我今天喝苏打水就可以了。”我跟上队伍的尾巴。 

“你不饿吗?”杰西卡问。 

“是的,我有点不舒服。”我说,眼睛依然盯着地面。 

我等着他们去取他们的食物,然后跟着他们走到一张桌子旁坐下,眼睛自始至终都盯着自己的鞋。 

我小口小口地喝着苏打水,胃里一阵阵翻腾着。迈克两次问起我,带着我个人觉得很不必要的担心。 

我告诉他我没事。但我在想着是否应该表现得更夸张一些,然后逃到医务室把下一堂给翘掉。 

荒谬。我根本没有必要逃走。 

我决定允许自己瞄一眼卡伦一家那张桌子。如果他还瞪着我看,我就翘掉生物课,当个懦夫。 

他们都在哈哈大笑。爱德华,贾斯帕,还有艾密特,头发都湿透了,沾满了融化的雪。爱丽丝和罗莎莉都倚到一边去,因为艾密特在向她们甩着自己的头发。他们像别人一样,享受着下雪天的乐趣。只是和我们相比,他们看上去更像是电影里的某个镜头。 

但是,除了欢笑和嬉闹,还有些许不同之处。但我无法确切地说出到底有何不同。我更仔细地打量着爱德华。他的肤色不那么苍白了,我觉得——大概是一场雪仗带来的红晕——他眼睛下的黑眼圈也不那么明显了。但还不止这些。我反复思考着,看着,试图找出变化的地方。 

“贝拉,你在看什么?”杰西卡插进来,她的眼睛随着我的视线望去。 

就在那一刻,他的眼睛转过来,对上了我的双眼。 

我垂下头,让头发落下来遮住我的脸。但是,我能确定,在我们目光交汇的那一瞬,他看上去并没有我上次见到的那样严厉和不友好。他看上去只是有些好奇,还有某种程度的不满足。 

“爱德华?卡伦盯着你看呢。”杰西卡在我耳边咯咯地笑着。 

“他看上去不太生气,对吧?”我不禁问道。 

“不,”她说,听起来对我的问题深感困惑。“他应该生气吗?” 

“我不认为他喜欢我。”我坦言道。我还是有点想吐,于是把头靠在手臂上。 

“卡伦一家不喜欢任何人……嗯,他们甚至不去注意任何人,更别提喜欢了。可是,他还在盯着你看。” 

“不要再看他了。”我嘘声道。 

她窃笑着,但还是看向了别处。我稍稍抬起头,以确认她没在看,否则我就要采取bao——力来阻止她了。 

随后,迈克打断了我们。他计划放学后在停车场来一场史诗般的暴风雪式雪仗,想让我们加入。杰西卡满腔热情地响应了他的号召。瞧她看着迈克的样子,毫无疑问,无论迈克让她干什么她都会同意的。我保持沉默。看样子在停车场没人以前我都得躲在体育馆里了。
剩下的午餐时间里我小心翼翼地让自己的视线一直停留在我自己的桌子上。我决定尊重心底的天人交战的结果。既然他看上去没在生气,我就去上生物课。一想到要再次坐在他旁边,我的胃就可怕地抽动几下。 

我不太想和平时一样跟迈克一起去教室——他似乎是个极受欢迎的雪球狙击手们的移动靶子。但当我们走到门外的时候,我身旁的每个人都不约而同地唉声叹气起来。下雨了,雨水把积雪冲刷得干干净净,在人行道留下一道道冰痕。我窃喜着套上兜帽:下了体育课我可以直接回家了。 

去四号楼的路上,迈克一直在抱怨着。 

一进教室,我很宽慰地看到我的桌子依然是空的。班纳老师在教室里走来走去,给每张桌子发一台显微镜和一盒玻片。还有一会儿才开始上课,屋子里全是窃窃私语的嗡嗡声。我不再看门外,无所事事地在我的笔记本封面上涂鸦。 

当我旁边的椅子被移动的时候,我听得异常清楚,但我还是专注地看着我刚刚画的图案。 

“你好。”一个平静的,宛如天籁的声音说道。 

我抬起头,有些眩晕地发现他是在和我说话。他坐在桌子所能允许的尽可能远离我的地方,但他的凳子的一角向着我。他的头发湿漉漉的,还滴着水,凌乱不堪——尽管如此,他看上去就像刚刚拍完一个洗发水广告。他美得惊人的脸显得既亲切又坦率,一抹淡淡的微笑浮现在他完美无瑕的唇上。但他的眼神有些小心翼翼。 

“我是爱德华?卡伦,”他继续说道。“上周我没来得及向你作自我介绍。你一定是贝拉?史温吧。” 

我的脑子里一片混乱。难道整件事是我自己虚构出来的吗?他现在礼貌得无懈可击。我必须说点什么:他在等着。但我想不出什么值得一说的内容。 

“你……你是怎么知道我的名字的?”我结结巴巴地说。 

他温柔地笑起来,但显得有些迷惑。 

“噢,我想每个人都知道你的名字。整个小镇都在等待你的到来。” 

我不由得露出苦相。我就知道是这样。 

“不,”我愚蠢地坚持着。“我的意思是,为什么你叫我贝拉?” 

他看上去很困惑。“你更喜欢别人叫你伊莎贝拉?” 

“不,我喜欢贝拉这个名字。”我说。“但我想查理——我是说我爸爸——一定在背后叫我伊莎贝拉——所以这里的每个人似乎都只知道我叫伊莎贝拉。”我试图解释,感觉自己像是个彻头彻尾的笨蛋。 

“哦。”他不再纠缠于这个问题。我笨拙地移开视线。 

谢天谢地,就在这时,班纳老师开始上课了。我努力把注意力集中在他对我们今天要做的实验的讲解上。盒子里的玻片的次序已经被打乱了。我们要两人一组地进行实验,找出每个洋葱鳞茎表皮细胞玻片所代表的细胞分裂周期,并贴上相应的标签。在此过程中不允许我们翻看书本。二十分钟以后,他会来回巡视,看谁做得正确。 

“开始。”他下令道。
女士优先,伙计?”爱德华问道。我抬头看着他。他微笑着,弯起的嘴角是那么的迷人,以至于我只能像个白痴一样盯着他看。

“或者我先来,如果你愿意的话。”笑容有些僵硬,他显然在怀疑着我的智力能否胜任。

“不,”我说,满脸绯红。“我先来。”

我是在卖弄,但不算过火。我做过这个实验,我知道我该找什么。这很简单。我“啪”地一下把第一张玻片放到显微镜下,敏捷地调到40倍镜,然后简单地看了一下玻片。

我很有把握地下了结论。“前期。”

“让我看一眼好吗?”我正要移开玻片,他问道。与此同时,他抓住我的手,让我停下来。他的手指冰冷,就好像上课前他一直把手埋在雪堆里一样。但这不是我飞快地挣开手的缘故。当他触到我的时候,他的触碰灼痛了我的手,仿佛有一股电流刹那间从我们身上流过。

“对不起。”他低声说道,立刻收回了手。但是,他仍旧伸手拿过了显微镜。我有些动摇地看着他,他检视玻片的时间比我还短。

“前期。”他表示赞同,工整地写到我们的实验报告的第一栏空白处。他动作熟练地换上第二张玻片,粗略地看了一眼。

“后期。”他一边低语着,一边写下来。

我尽量让自己的声音显得漠不关心。“可以让我看一下吗?”

他撇嘴坏笑,把显微镜推给我。

我急切地透过接目镜看进去,却失望了。该死,他是对的。

“第三张玻片?”我伸出手,却不看他。

他把玻片递给我。他似乎小心翼翼地避免着再次和我有肌肤上的接触。(其实我很想翻译成肌肤相亲来着。。。一亲芳泽也可以。。。)

我用我能做到的最快速度看了看玻片。

“间期。”在他开口以前,我把显微镜递给了他。他飞快地瞄了一眼,然后写下来。在他看的时候我本可以写下来的,但他清秀雅致的笔迹把我镇住了。我不想用我笨拙潦草的字体毁掉这张纸。

我们早早地完成了实验,把别人都甩在了后头。我可以看到迈克和他的搭档在一遍又一遍地对比着两张玻片,而另一组则在桌子底下翻开了书。

我实在无事可做,只能尽量不让自己看他。但没有成功。我看过去,他正在盯着我看,眼里有着令人费解的挫败感。电光火石间,我发现了他容貌上的极细微的不同之处。

“你戴了隐形眼睛吗?”我不假思索地脱口而出。

他似乎对我出人意料的提问感到很困惑。“没有。”

“哦,”我咕哝着说。“我觉得你的眼睛有些不太一样。”

他耸耸肩,看向别处。

事实上,我确定他的眼睛有些不太一样。我对他那双纯黑的眸子记忆犹新——上次他曾那样地瞪着我——那种眸色在他的苍白肌肤和红色头发的映衬下越发醒目。今天,他的眼睛是另一种完全不同的颜色:一种奇怪的黄褐色,比奶油糖的颜色略深一些,但同样是金黄的色调。我无法理解这种事情,除非是他出于某种原因在隐形眼镜的事情上说了谎。又或者是福克斯让我疯狂地脱离了对世界的正常感知。

我向下看,他的双手又一次收紧握成拳头。

班纳老师走到我们的桌子旁,想看看为什么我们停下来不做了。他越过我们的肩膀看到已经完成了的实验,于是更加专注地检查起答案来。

“那么,爱德华,你不认为伊莎贝拉应该拥有使用显微镜的机会吗?”班纳老师问道。

“贝拉,”爱德华下意识地更正道。“事实上,她找出了五个之中的三个。”

现在班纳老师看着我,表情很是怀疑。

“你以前做过这个实验吗?”他问道。

我羞涩地一笑:“但不是用洋葱鳞茎。”

“是用白鱼囊胚?”

“没错。”

班纳老师点点头。“你在凤凰城上过大学先修课程吗?”

“是的。”

“很好,”他停顿了一会儿,说道,“我想你们两个在同一个实验小组是件好事。”当他走开的时候,嘴里还咕哝着什么。等他走了,我又开始在笔记本上涂涂画画。

“这雪太可惜了,不是吗?”爱德华问。我有一种感觉,他在强迫自己和我闲聊。我又开始犯妄想症了。这简直像是他听到了午餐时我和杰西卡的对话,正努力想要证明我是错误的。

“一点儿也不。”我老实答道,而不是假装和大家一样寻常。我仍在努力把愚蠢的多疑的念头从脑海里驱逐出去,没法集中注意力。

“你不喜欢寒冷。”这不是一个疑问句。

“还有潮湿。”

“福克斯对你来说一定是个不适宜居住的地方。”他若有所思地说。

“你根本想象不到。”我阴郁地低声含糊道。
他看上去对我所说的很着迷,但我想象不出是什么原因。他的脸让我分神,我只能在不失礼貌地前提下尽可能不去看他。 

“那么,你为什么会来这里呢?” 

从来没有人问过我这个问题——至少,不像他这样直白。 

“这……说来话长。” 

“我想我可以耐心地听完。”他敦促着。 

我停顿了许久,然后犯了一个错误:对上了他凝视着的双眸。他黑金色的眸子让我迷乱,于是想都不想就回答了。 

“我妈妈再婚了。”我说。 

“听起来不算很复杂。”他似乎不能赞同,但很快同情起我来。“什么时候的事?” 

“去年九月。”我的声音听起来有些感伤,至少对我来说。 

“但是,你不喜欢她的新丈夫。”爱德华推测着,声音依然很亲切。 

“不,菲尔人很好。可能,太年轻了点,但还是很好。” 

“为什么你不继续和他们一起住了呢?” 

我想不出他在对什么感兴趣,但他继续用那双富有穿透力的眼睛盯着我看,就好像我乏味的生活是一个异常精彩的传奇。 

“菲尔经常出差,他是个职业球员。”我勉强笑道。 

“我听说过他吗?”他问道,也笑了。 

“应该没有。他打得不太好,严格地说还在小联盟里。他总在东奔西跑。” 

“所以你母亲让你到这儿来,好让她能跟着他一起走四方。”他说这句话的语气更像是在做推论,而不是提问。 

我略微抬起下颚。“不,她没让我来这儿。是我自己要来的。” 

他颦起眉头。“我不明白。”他坦白道,看上去被这个事实深深地挫败了,而且有些过头。 

“刚开始她留下来陪我,但她很想念他,所以很不快乐……所以我觉得是时候和查理一起好过日子了。”我说着,声音沉了下去。 

“但现在,变成你不快乐了。”他指出来。 

“所以说?”我挑衅道。 

“这好像不太公平。”他耸耸肩,但眼神依然紧绷。 

我干笑着。“没有人告诉过你吗?生活是不公平的。” 

“我相信我曾经在某处听过这句话。”他冷冷地说道。 

“所以,说完了。”我坚持着,想知道为什么他还在用那种眼神盯着我。 

他的目光变为审视的神情。“你表现得很好,”他慢吞吞地说道。“但我敢打赌,你所经历的比你表现给任何人看的都要多。” 

我向他做了个鬼脸,按捺住学五岁



欢迎访问英文小说网http://novel.tingroom.com

©英文小说网 2005-2010

有任何问题,请给我们留言,管理员邮箱:tinglishi@gmail.com  站长QQ :点击发送消息和我们联系56065533

鲁ICP备05031204号