Twilight by Book 1 Read Free Book Online

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 his gaze. 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 suddenly sympathetic.
    "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 with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life's story was somehow vitally important.
    "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 moves around a lot."
    "And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." He said 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 he seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.
    I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him? He continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity.
    "She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie." My voice was 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 me that 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 anyone see." I grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like a five-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 if he was talking to himself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided 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." Not exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read — my mother always calls me her open book." I frowned.
    "On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that 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 to listen. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful boy who may or may not despise me. He'd seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was leaning away from me again, his hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.
    I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable.
    When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after him in amazement. Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imagined him with a wagging tail.
    "That was