Mike became an unreliable viewpoint from then on. He found, as he turned the idea of Jessica around and around in his head, that he rather liked the thought of her finding him attractive. It was second place, not as good as if Bella had felt that way. She's cute, though, I guess. Decent body. A bird in the hand...
He was off then, on to new fantasies that were just as vulgar as the ones about Bella, but now they only irritated rather than infuriated. How little he deserved either girl; they were almost interchangeable to him. I stayed clear of his head after that. When she was out of sight, I curled up against the cool trunk of an enormous madrone tree and I danced from mind to mind, keeping her in sight, always glad when Angela Weber was available to look through. I wished there was someway to thank the Weber girl for simply being a nice person. It made me feel better to think that Bella had one friend worth having.
I watched Bella's face from whichever angle I was given, and I could see that she was sad again. This surprised me - I thought the sun would be enough to keep her smiling. At lunch, I saw her glance time and time again toward the empty Cullen table, and that thrilled me. It gave me hope. Perhaps she missed me, too.
She had plans to go out with the other girls - I automatically planned my own surveillance - but these plans were postponed when Mike invited Jessica out on the date he'd planned for Bella.
So I went straight to her home instead, doing a quick sweep of the woods to make sure no one dangerous had wandered too close. I knew Jasper had warned his one-time brother to avoid the town - citing my insanity as both explanation and warning - but I wasn't taking any chances. Peter and Charlotte had no intention of causing animosity with my family, but intentions were changeable things...
All right, I was overdoing it. I knew that.
As if she knew I was watching, as if she took pity on the agony I felt when I couldn't see her, Bella came out to the backyard after a long hour indoors. She had a book in her hand and a blanket under her arm.
Silently, I climbed into the higher branches of the closest tree overlooking the yard.
She spread the blanket on the damp grass and then lay on her stomach and started flipping through the worn book, as if trying to find her place. I read over her shoulder. Ah - more classics. She was an Austen fan.
She read quickly, crossing and recrossing her ankles in the air. I was watching the sunlight and wind play in her hair when her body suddenly stiffened, and her hand froze on the page. All I saw was that she'd reached chapter three when she roughly grabbed a thick section of pages and shoved them over.
I caught a glance of a title page, Mansfield Park. She was starting a new story - the book was a compilation of novels. I wondered why she'd switched stories so abruptly.
Just a few moments later, she slammed the book angrily shut. With a fierce scowl on her face, she pushed the book aside and flipped over onto her back. She took a deep breath, as if to calm herself, pushed her sleeves up and closed her eyes. I remembered the novel, but I couldn't think of anything offensive in it to upset her. Another mystery. I sighed.
She lay very still, moving just once to yank her hair away from her face. It fanned out over her head, a river of chestnut. And then she was motionless again. Her breathing slowed. After several long minutes her lips began to tremble.
Mumbling in her sleep.
Impossible to resist. I listened as far out as I could, catching voices in the houses nearby.
Two tablespoons of flour...one cup of milk...
C'mon! Get it through the hoop! Aw, c'mon!
Red, or blue...or maybe I should wear something more casual...
There was no one close by. I jumped to the ground, landing silently on my toes.
This was very wrong, very risky. How condescendingly I'd once judged Emmett for his thoughtless ways and Jasper for his lack of discipline - and now I was consciously flouting