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make no contact, as if he knew you would see that. I think you were right, Alice, I think he did know. I think he was using those holes, too. And what are the odds that two different people not only know enough about you to do that, but also decided to do it at exactly the same time? No way. It's one person. The same one. The one who is making the army is the one who stole my scent."

Alice wasn't accustomed to being taking by surprise. She froze, and was still for so long that I started counting in my head as I waited. She didn't move for two minutes straight. Then her eyes refocused on me.

"You're right," she said in a hollow tone. "Of course you're right. And when you put it that way. . . ."

"Edward had it wrong," I whispered. "It was a test . . . to see if it would work. If he could get in and out safely as long as he didn't do anything you would be watching out for. Like trying to kill me. . . . And he didn't take my things to prove he'd found me. He stole my scent . . . so that others could find me."

Her eyes were wide with shock. I was right, and I could see that she knew it, too.

"Oh, no," she mouthed.

I was through expecting my emotions to make sense anymore. As I processed the fact that someone had created an army of vampires - the army that had gruesomely murdered dozens of people in Seattle - for the express purpose of destroying me, I felt a spasm of relief.

Part of it was finally solving that irritating feeling that I was missing something vital.

But the larger part was something else entirely.

"Well," I whispered, "everyone can relax. Nobody's trying to exterminate the Cullens after all."

"If you think that one thing has changed, you're absolutely wrong," Alice said through her teeth. "If someone wants one of us, they're going to have to go through the rest of us to get to her."

"Thanks, Alice. But at least we know what they're really after. That has to help."

"Maybe," she muttered. She started pacing back and forth across my room.

Thud, thud - a fist hammered against my door.

I jumped. Alice didn't seem to notice.

"Aren't you ready yet? We're gonna be late!" Charlie complained, sounding edgy. Charlie hated occasions about as much as I did. In his case, a lot of the problem was having to dress up.

"Almost. Give me a minute," I said hoarsely.

He was quiet for half a second. "Are you crying?"

"No. I'm nervous. Go away."

I heard him clump down the stairs.

"I have to go," Alice whispered.

"Why?"

"Edward is coming. If he hears this . . ."

"Go, go!" I urged immediately. Edward would go berserk when he knew. I couldn't keep it from him for long, but maybe the graduation ceremony wasn't the best time for his reaction.

"Put it on," Alice commanded as she flitted out the window.

I did what she said, dressing in a daze.

I'd been planning to do something more sophisticated with my hair, but time was up, so it hung straight and boring as on any other day. It didn't matter. I didn't bother to look in the mirror, so I had no idea how Alice's sweater and skirt ensemble worked. That didn't matter, either. I threw the ugly yellow polyester graduation robe over my arm and hurried down the stairs.

"You look nice," Charlie said, already gruff with suppressed emotion. "Is that new?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, trying to concentrate. "Alice gave it to me. Thanks."

Edward arrived just a few minutes after his sister left. It wasn't enough time for me to pull together a calm faade. But, since we were riding in the cruiser with Charlie, he never had a chance to ask me what was wrong.

Charlie had gotten stubborn last week when he'd learned that I was intending to ride with Edward to the graduation ceremony. And I could see his point - parents should have some rights come graduation day. I'd conceded with good grace, and Edward had cheerfully suggested that we all go together. Since Carlisle and Esme had no problem with this, Charlie couldn't come up with a compelling objection; he'd agreed with poor grace. And now Edward rode in the backseat of my father's police car, behind the fiberglass divider, with an amused expression - probably due to my father's amused expression, and the grin that widened every time