looked irritated. I wondered if she didn't want anyone to know she'd gone out with me, or whether she just wanted to be the one to tell the story.
"What movie did you see?" Mike asked, starting to smile.
"Dead End—the one with the zombies." I grinned in encouragement. Maybe some of the damage I'd done in these past zombie months was reparable.
"I heard that was scary. Did you think so?" Mike was eager to continue the conversation.
"Bella had to leave at the end, she was so freaked," Jessica inserted with a sly smile.
I nodded, trying to look embarrassed. "It was pretty scary."
Mike didn't stop asking me questions till lunch was over. Gradually, the others were able to start up their own conversations again, though they still looked at me a lot. Angela talked mostly to Mike and me, and, when I got up to dump my tray, she followed.
"Thanks," she said in a low voice when we were away from the table.
"For what?"
"Speaking up, sticking up for me."
"No problem."
She looked at me with concern, but not the offensive, maybe-she's-lost-it kind. "Are you okay?"
This is why I'd picked Jessica over Angela—though I'd always liked Angela more—for the girls' night movie. Angela was too perceptive.
"Not completely," I admitted. "But I'm a little bit better."
"I'm glad," she said. "I've missed you."
Lauren and Jessica strolled by us then, and I heard Lauren whisper loudly, "Oh, joy Bella's back."
Angela rolled her eyes at them, and smiled at me in encouragement.
I sighed It was like I was starting all over again.
"What's today's date?" I wondered suddenly.
"It's January nineteenth."
"Hmm."
"What is it?" Angela asked.
"It was a year ago yesterday that I had my first day here," I mused.
"Nothing's changed much," Angela muttered, looking after Lauren and Jessica.
"I know, I agreed I was just thinking the same thing."
7 REPETITION
I WASN'T SURE WHAT THE HELL I WAS DOING HERE Was I trying to push myself back into the zombie stupor? Had I turned masochistic—developed a taste for torture? I should have gone straight down to La Push I felt much, much healthier around Jacob This was not a healthy thing to do.
But I continued to drive slowly down the overgrown lane, twisting through the trees that arched over me like a green, living tunnel My hands were shaking, so I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
I knew that part of the reason I did this was the nightmare, now that I was really awake, the nothingness of the dream gnawed on my nerves, a dog worrying a bone.
There was something to search for. Unattainable and impossible, uncaring and distracted… but he was out there, somewhere. I had to believe that.
The other part was the strange sense of repetition I'd felt at school today, the coincidence of the date. The feeling that I was starting over—perhaps the way my first day would have gone if I'd really been the most unusual person in the cafeteria that afternoon.
The words ran through my head, tonelessly, like I was reading them rather than hearing them spoken:
It will be as if I'd never existed.
I was lying to myself by splitting my reason for coming here into just two parts. I didn't want to admit the strongest motivation. Because it was mentally unsound.
The truth was that I wanted to hear his voice again, like I had in the strange delusion Friday night. For that brief moment, when his voice came from some other part of me than my conscious memory, when his voice was perfect and honey smooth rather than the pale echo my memories usually produced, I was able to remember without pain. It hadn't lasted; the pain had caught up with me, as I was sure it would for this fool's errand. But those precious moments when I could hear him again were an irresistible lure. I had to find some way to repeat the experience… or maybe the better word was episode.
I was hoping that déjà vu was the key. So I was going to his home, a place I hadn't been since my ill-fated birthday party, so many months ago.
The thick, almost jungle-like growth crawled slowly past my windows. The drive wound on and on. I started to go faster, getting edgy. How long had I been driving? Shouldn't I have reached the house yet? The lane was so overgrown that it did not look familiar.
What if I couldn't find it? I shivered. What if there was no tangible proof at all?