Midnight Sun (The Twilight Saga #5) - Stephenie Meyer Page 0,106

face. “Why?”

Weird reaction. What does she think I meant? “He’s so…” What’s the right word? “Intimidating. I wouldn’t know what to say to him.” I couldn’t even speak English to him today, and all he said was good morning. I must have sounded like such an idiot.

Bella smiled. “I do have some trouble with incoherency when I’m around him.”

She must be trying to make Jessica feel better. She was almost unnaturally self-possessed when we were together.

“Oh well,” Jessica sighed. “He is unbelievably gorgeous.”

Bella’s face was suddenly colder. Her eyes flashed the same way they did when she resented some injustice. Jessica didn’t process the change in her expression.

“There’s a lot more to him than that,” Bella snapped.

Oooh. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Really? Like what?”

Bella gnawed her lip for a moment. “I can’t explain it right,” she finally said. “But he’s even more unbelievable behind the face.” She looked away from Jessica, her eyes slightly unfocused, as if she was staring at something very far away.

I was reminded of how it felt when Carlisle or Esme praised me beyond what I deserved. This emotion was similar, but more intense, more consuming.

Sell stupid somewhere else—there’s nothing better than that face! Unless it’s his body. Swoon. “Is that possible?” Jessica giggled.

Bella didn’t turn. She continued to stare into the distance, ignoring Jessica.

A normal person would be gloating. Maybe if I keep the questions simple. Ha ha. Like I’m talking to a kindergartener. “So you like him, then?”

I was rigid again.

Bella didn’t look at Jessica. “Yes.”

“I mean, do you really like him?”

“Yes.”

Look at that blush!

“How much do you like him?” Jessica demanded.

The English room could have gone up in flames and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Bella’s face was bright red now—I could almost feel the heat from the mental picture.

“Too much,” she whispered. “More than he likes me. But I don’t see how I can help that.”

Shoot! What did Mr. Varner just ask? “Um—which number, Mr. Varner?”

It was good that Jessica could no longer quiz Bella. I needed a minute.

What on earth was the girl thinking now? “More than he likes me”? How did she come up with that? “But I don’t see how I can help that”? What was that supposed to mean? I couldn’t fit a rational explanation to the words. They were practically senseless.

It seemed I couldn’t take anything for granted. Obvious things, things that made perfect sense, somehow got twisted up and turned backward in that bizarre brain of hers.

I glared at the clock, gritting my teeth. How could mere minutes feel so impossibly long to an immortal? Where was my perspective?

My jaw was tight throughout Mr. Varner’s entire Trigonometry lesson. I heard more of that than the lecture in my own class. Bella and Jessica didn’t speak again, but Jessica peeked at Bella several times, and once noticed that her face was brilliant scarlet again for no apparent reason.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough.

I wasn’t sure whether Jessica would get some of the answers I was waiting for when the class was over, but Bella was quicker than she was.

As soon as the bell sounded, Bella turned to Jessica.

“In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night,” Bella said, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. I understood this for what is was—offense as the best defense.

Mike asked about me? Joy made Jessica’s mind suddenly unguarded, softer, without its usual snide edge. “You’re kidding! What did you say?”

That was all I was going to get from Jessica today, clearly. Bella was smiling as though she was thinking the same thing. As though she’d won the round.

Well, lunch would be another story.

I moved apathetically through Gym class with Alice, the way we always moved when it came to physical activity with humans. She was my teammate, naturally. No one human would ever choose to partner with one of us. It was the first day of badminton. I sighed with boredom, swinging the racket in slow motion to tap the birdie back to the other side. Lauren Mallory was on the other team; she missed. Alice was twirling her racket like a baton, staring at the ceiling. She took a step closer to the net, and Lauren flinched two steps back.

We all hated Gym, Emmett especially. Throwing games was an affront to his personal philosophy. Gym seemed worse today than usual—I felt just as irritated as Emmett always did. Before my head could explode with impatience, Coach Clapp called the games and sent us out early. I was