New Moon - Stephenie Meyer [19]
“In here,” Charlie called.
I hung my raincoat on its peg and hurried around the corner.
Edward was in the armchair, my father on the sofa. Both had their eyes trained on the TV. The focus was normal for my father. Not so much for Edward.
“Hi,” I said weakly.
“Hey, Bella,” my father answered, eyes never moving. “We just had cold pizza. I think it’s still on the table.”
“Okay.”
I waited in the doorway. Finally, Edward looked over at me with a polite smile. “I’ll be right behind you,” he promised. His eyes strayed back to the TV.
I stared for another minute, shocked. Neither one seemed to notice. I could feel something, panic maybe, building up in my chest. I escaped to the kitchen.
The pizza held no interest for me. I sat in my chair, pulled my knees up, and wrapped my arms around them. Something was very wrong, maybe more wrong than I’d realized. The sounds of male bonding and banter continued from the TV set.
I tried to get control of myself, to reason with myself. What’s the worst that can happen? I flinched. That was definitely the wrong question to ask. I was having a hard time breathing right.
Okay, I thought again, what’s the worst I can live through? I didn’t like that question so much, either. But I thought through the possibilities I’d considered today.
Staying away from Edward’s family. Of course, he wouldn’t expect Alice to be part of that. But if Jasper was off limits, that would lessen the time I could have with her. I nodded to myself—I could live with that.
Or going away. Maybe he wouldn’t want to wait till the end of the school year, maybe it would have to be now.
In front of me, on the table, my presents from Charlie and Reneé were where I had left them, the camera I hadn’t had the chance to use at the Cullens’ sitting beside the album. I touched the pretty cover of the scrapbook my mother had given me, and sighed, thinking of Reneé. Somehow, living without her for as long as I had did not make the idea of a more permanent separation easier. And Charlie would be left all alone here, abandoned. They would both be so hurt...
But we’d come back, right? We’d visit, of course, wouldn’t we?
I couldn’t be certain about the answer to that.
I leaned my cheek against my knee, staring at the physical tokens of my parents’ love. I’d known this path I’d chosen was going to be hard. And, after all, I was thinking about the worst-case scenario—the very worst I could live through.
I touched the scrapbook again, flipping the front cover over. Little metal corners were already in place to hold the first picture. It wasn’t a half-bad idea, to make some record of my life here. I felt a strange urge to get started. Maybe I didn’t have that long left in Forks.
I toyed with the wrist strap on the camera, wondering about the first picture on the roll. Could it possibly turn out anything close to the original? I doubted it. But he didn’t seem worried that it would be blank. I chuckled to myself, thinking of his carefree laughter last night. The chuckle died away. So much had changed, and so abruptly. It made me feel a little bit dizzy, like I was standing on an edge, a precipice somewhere much too high.
I didn’t want to think about that anymore. I grabbed the camera and headed up the stairs.
My room hadn’t really changed all that much in the seventeen years since my mother had been here. The walls were still light blue, the same yellowed lace curtains hung in front of the window. There was a bed, rather than a crib, but she would recognize the quilt draped untidily over the top—it had been a gift from Gran.
Regardless, I snapped a picture of my room. There wasn’t much else I could do tonight—it was too dark outside—and the feeling was growing stronger, it was almost a compulsion now. I would record everything about Forks before I had to leave it.
Change was coming. I could feel it. It wasn’t a pleasant prospect, not when life was perfect the way it was.
I took my time coming back down the stairs, camera in hand,