New Moon - Stephenie Meyer [39]
So many promises I kept...
It clicked together for me then. I wanted to be stupid and reckless, and I wanted to break promises. Why stop at one?
That’s as far as I thought it through. I sloshed through the rain to the Markses’ front door and rang the bell.
One of the Marks boys opened the door, the younger one, the freshman. I couldn’t remember his name. His sandy hair only came up to my shoulder.
He had no trouble remembering my name. “Bella Swan?” he asked in surprise.
“How much do you want for the bike?” I panted, jerking my thumb over my shoulder toward the sales display.
“Are you serious?” he demanded.
“Of course I am.”
“They don’t work.”
I sighed impatiently—this was something I’d already inferred from the sign. “How much?”
“If you really want one, just take it. My mom made my dad move them down to the road so they’d get picked up with the garbage.”
I glanced at the bikes again and saw that they were resting on a pile of yard clippings and dead branches. “Are you positive about that?”
“Sure, you want to ask her?”
It was probably better not to involve adults who might mention this to Charlie.
“No, I believe you.”
“You want me to help you?” he offered. “They’re not light.”
“Okay, thanks. I only need one, though.”
“Might as well take both,” the boy said. “Maybe you could scavenge some parts.”
He followed me out into the downpour and helped me load both of the heavy bikes into the back of my truck. He seemed eager to be rid of them, so I didn’t argue.
“What are you going to do with them, anyway?” he asked. “They haven’t worked in years.”
“I kind of guessed that,” I said, shrugging. My spur-of-the-moment whim hadn’t come with a plan intact. “Maybe I’ll take them to Dowling’s.”
He snorted. “Dowling would charge more to fix them than they’d be worth running.”
I couldn’t argue with that. John Dowling had earned a reputation for his pricing; no one went to him except in an emergency. Most people preferred to make the drive up to Port Angeles, if their car was able. I’d been very lucky on that front—I’d been worried, when Charlie first gifted me my ancient truck, that I wouldn’t be able to afford to keep it running. But I’d never had a single problem with it, other than the screaming-loud engine and the fifty-five-mile-per-hour maximum speed limit. Jacob Black had kept it in great shape when it had belonged to his father, Billy....
Inspiration hit like a bolt of lightning—not unreasonable, considering the storm. “You know what? That’s okay. I know someone who builds cars.”
“Oh. That’s good.” He smiled in relief.
He waved as I pulled away, still smiling. Friendly kid.
I drove quickly and purposefully now, in a hurry to get home before there was the slightest chance of Charlie appearing, even in the highly unlikely event that he might knock off early. I dashed through the house to the phone, keys still in hand.
“Chief Swan, please,” I said when the deputy answered. “It’s Bella.”
“Oh, hey, Bella,” Deputy Steve said affably. “I’ll go get him.”
I waited.
“What’s wrong, Bella?” Charlie demanded as soon as he picked up the phone.
“Can’t I call you at work without there being an emergency?”
He was quiet for a minute. “You never have before. Is there an emergency?”
“No. I just wanted directions to the Blacks’ place—I’m not sure I can remember the way. I want to visit Jacob. I haven’t seen him in months.”
When Charlie spoke again, his voice was much happier. “That’s a great idea, Bells. Do you have a pen?”
The directions he gave me were very simple. I assured him that I would be back for dinner, though he tried to tell me not to hurry. He wanted to join me in La Push, and I wasn’t having that.
So it was with a deadline that I drove too quickly through the