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Eclipse - Meyer Stephenie - Страница 13
I heard the quick gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp of the air dragging through my lips, but I couldn’t stop it. It looked like the school was shaking, like there was an earthquake, but I knew it was my own trembling that caused the illusion.
“She came back for me,” I choked out.
Victoria was never going to give up till I was dead. She would keep repeating the same pattern — feint and run, feint and run — until she found a hole through my defenders.
Maybe I’d get lucky. Maybe the Volturi would come for me first — they’d kill me quicker, at least.
Edward held me tight to his side, angling his body so that he was still between me and Jacob, and stroked my face with anxious hands. “It’s fine,” he whispered to me. “It’s fine. I’ll never let her get close to you, it’s fine.”
Then he glared at Jacob. “Does that answer your question, mongrel?”
“You don’t think Bella has a right to know?” Jacob challenged. “It’s her life.”
Edward kept his voice muted; even Tyler, edging forward by inches, would be unable to hear. “Why should she be frightened when she was never in danger?”
“Better frightened than lied to.”
I tried to pull myself together, but my eyes were swimming in moisture. I could see it behind my lids — I could see Victoria’s face, her lips pulled back over her teeth, her crimson eyes glowing with the obsession of her vendetta; she held Edward responsible for the demise of her love, James. She wouldn’t stop until his love was taken from him, too.
Edward wiped the tears from my cheek with his fingertips.
“Do you really think hurting her is better than protecting her?” he murmured.
“She’s tougher than you think,” Jacob said. “And she’s been through worse.”
Abruptly, Jacob’s expression shifted, and he was staring at Edward with an odd, speculative expression. His eyes narrowed like he was trying to do a difficult math problem in his head.
I felt Edward cringe. I glanced up at him, and his face was contorted in what could only be pain. For one ghastly moment, I was reminded of our afternoon in Italy, in the macabre tower room of the Volturi, where Jane had tortured Edward with her malignant gift, burning him with her thoughts alone. . . .
The memory snapped me out of my near hysteria and put everything in perspective. Because I’d rather Victoria killed me a hundred times over than watch Edward suffer that way again.
“That’s funny,” Jacob said, laughing as he watched Edward’s face.
Edward winced, but smoothed his expression with a little effort. He couldn’t quite hide the agony in his eyes.
I glanced, wide-eyed, from Edward’s grimace to Jacob’s sneer.
“What are you doing to him?” I demanded.
“It’s nothing, Bella,” Edward told me quietly. “Jacob just has a good memory, that’s all.”
Jacob grinned, and Edward winced again.
“Stop it! Whatever you’re doing.”
“Sure, if you want.” Jacob shrugged. “It’s his own fault if he doesn’t like the things I remember, though.”
I glared at him, and he smiled back impishly — like a kid caught doing something he knows he shouldn’t by someone who he knows won’t punish him.
“The principal’s on his way to discourage loitering on school property,” Edward murmured to me. “Let’s get to English, Bella, so you’re not involved.”
“Overprotective, isn’t he?” Jacob said, talking just to me. “A little trouble makes life fun. Let me guess, you’re not allowed to have fun, are you?”
Edward glowered, and his lips pulled back from his teeth ever so slightly.
“Shut up, Jake,” I said.
Jacob laughed. “That sounds like a no. Hey, if you ever feel like having a life again, you could come see me. I’ve still got your motorcycle in my garage.”
This news distracted me. “You were supposed to sell that. You promised Charlie you would.” If I hadn’t begged on Jake’s behalf — after all, he’d put weeks of labor into both motorcycles, and he deserved some kind of payback — Charlie would have thrown my bike in a Dumpster. And possibly set that Dumpster on fire.
“Yeah, right. Like I would do that. It belongs to you, not me. Anyway, I’ll hold on to it until you want it back.”
A tiny hint of the smile I remembered was suddenly playing around the edges of his lips.
“Jake . . .”
He leaned forward, his face earnest now, the bitter sarcasm fading. “I think I might have been wrong before, you know, about not being able to be friends. Maybe we could manage it, on my side of the line. Come see me.”
I was vividly conscious of Edward, his arms still wrapped protectively around me, motionless as a stone. I shot a look at his face — it was calm, patient.
“I, er, don’t know about that, Jake.”
Jacob dropped the antagonistic facade completely. It was like he’d forgotten Edward was there, or at least he was determined to act that way. “I miss you every day, Bella. It’s not the same without you.”
“I know and I’m sorry, Jake, I just . . .”
He shook his head, and sighed. “I know. Doesn’t matter, right? I guess I’ll survive or something. Who needs friends?” He grimaced, trying to cover the pain with a thin attempt at bravado.
Jacob’s suffering had always triggered my protective side. It was not entirely rational — Jacob was hardly in need of any physical protection I could offer. But my arms, pinned beneath Edward’s, yearned to reach out to him. To wrap around his big, warm waist in a silent promise of acceptance and comfort.
Edward’s shielding arms had become restraints.
“Okay, get to class,” a stern voice sounded behind us. “Move along, Mr. Crowley.”
“Get to school, Jake,” I whispered, anxious as soon as I recognized the principal’s voice. Jacob went to the Quileute school, but he might still get in trouble for trespassing or the equivalent.
Edward released me, taking just my hand and pulling me behind his body again.
Mr. Greene pushed through the circle of spectators, his brows pressing down like ominous storm clouds over his small eyes.
“I mean it,” he was threatening. “Detention for anyone who’s still standing here when I turn around again.”
The audience melted away before he was finished with his sentence.
“Ah, Mr. Cullen. Do we have a problem here?”
“Not at all, Mr. Greene. We were just on our way to class.”
“Excellent. I don’t seem to recognize your friend.” Mr. Greene turned his glower on Jacob. “Are you a new student here?”
Mr. Greene’s eyes scrutinized Jacob, and I could see that he’d come to the same conclusion everyone else had: dangerous. A troublemaker.
“Nope,” Jacob answered, half a smirk on his broad lips.
“Then I suggest you remove yourself from school property at once, young man, before I call the police.”
Jacob’s little smirk became a full-blown grin, and I knew he was picturing Charlie showing up to arrest him. This grin was too bitter, too full of mocking to satisfy me. This wasn’t the smile I’d been waiting to see.
Jacob said, “Yes, sir,” and snapped a military salute before he climbed on his bike and kicked it to a start right there on the sidewalk. The engine snarled and then the tires squealed as he spun it sharply around. In a matter of seconds, Jacob raced out of sight.
Mr. Greene gnashed his teeth together while he watched the performance.
“Mr. Cullen, I expect you to ask your friend to refrain from trespassing again.”
“He’s no friend of mine, Mr. Greene, but I’ll pass along the warning.”
Mr. Greene pursed his lips. Edward’s perfect grades and spotless record were clearly a factor in Mr. Greene’s assessment of the incident. “I see. If you’re worried about any trouble, I’d be happy to —”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Mr. Greene. There won’t be any trouble.”
“I hope that’s correct. Well, then. On to class. You, too, Miss Swan.”
Edward nodded, and pulled me quickly along toward the English building.
“Do you feel well enough to go to class?” he whispered when we were past the principal.
“Yes,” I whispered back, not quite sure if this was a lie.
Whether I felt well or not was hardly the most important consideration. I needed to talk to Edward right away, and English class wasn’t the ideal place for the conversation I had in mind.
But with Mr. Greene right behind us, there weren’t a lot of other options.
We got to class a little late and took our seats quickly. Mr. Berty was reciting a Frost poem. He ignored our entrance, refusing to let us break his rhythm.
I yanked a blank page out of my notebook and started writing, my handwriting more illegible than normal thanks to my agitation.
What happened? Tell me everything. And screw the protecting me crap, please.
I shoved the note at Edward. He sighed, and then began writing. It took him less time than me, though he wrote an entire paragraph in his own personal calligraphy before he slipped the paper back.
Alice saw that Victoria was coming back. I took you out of town merely as a precaution — there was never a chance that she would have gotten anywhere close to you. Emmett and Jasper very nearly had her, but Victoria seems to have some instinct for evasion. She escaped right down the Quileute boundary line as if she were reading it from a map. It didn’t help that Alice’s abilities were nullified by the Quileutes’ involvement. To be fair, the Quileutes might have had her, too, if we hadn’t gotten in the way. The big gray one thought Emmett was over the line, and he got defensive. Of course Rosalie reacted to that, and everyone left the chase to protect their companions. Carlisle and Jasper got things calmed down before it got out of hand. But by then, Victoria had slipped away. That’s everything.
I frowned at the letters on the page. All of them had been in on it — Emmett, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, and Carlisle. Maybe even Esme, though he hadn’t mentioned her. And then Paul and the rest of the Quileute pack. It might so easily have turned into a fight, pitting my future family and my old friends against each other. Any one of them could have been hurt. I imagined the wolves would be in the most danger, but picturing tiny Alice next to one of the huge werewolves, fighting . . .
I shuddered.
Carefully, I scrubbed out the entire paragraph with my eraser and then I wrote over the top:
What about Charlie? She could have been after him.
Edward was shaking his head before I finished, obviously going to downplay any danger on Charlie’s behalf. He held a hand out, but I ignored that and started again.
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