1 twilight暮色-第2部分

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the　same　page。　Sometimes　I　wondered　if　I　was　seeing　the　same　things　
through　my　eyes　that　the　rest　of　the　world　was　seeing　through　theirs。　
Maybe　there　was　a　glitch　in　my　brain。　But　the　cause　didn't　matter。　All　
that　mattered　was　the　effect。　And　tomorrow　would　be　just　the　beginning。　



I　didn't　sleep　well　that　night；　even　after　I　was　done　crying。　The　
constant　whooshing　of　the　rain　and　wind　across　the　roof　wouldn't　fade　
into　the　background。　I　pulled　the　faded　old　quilt　over　my　head；　and　later　
added　the　pillow；　too。　But　I　couldn't　fall　asleep　until　after　midnight；　
when　the　rain　finally　settled　into　a　quieter　drizzle。　

Thick　fog　was　all　I　could　see　out　my　window　in　the　morning；　and　I　could　
feel　the　claustrophobia　creeping　up　on　me。　You　could　never　see　the　sky　
here；　it　was　like　a　cage。　

Breakfast　with　Charlie　was　a　quiet　event。　He　wished　me　good　luck　at　
school。　I　thanked　him；　knowing　his　hope　was　wasted。　Good　luck　tended　to　
avoid　me。　Charlie　left　first；　off　to　the　police　station　that　was　his　wife　
and　family。　After　he　left；　I　sat　at　the　old　square　oak　table　in　one　of　
the　three　unmatching　chairs　and　examined　his　small　kitchen；　with　its　dark　
paneled　walls；　bright　yellow　cabis；　and　white　linoleum　floor。　Nothing　
was　changed。　My　mother　had　painted　the　cabis　eighteen　years　ago　in　an　
attempt　to　bring　some　sunshine　into　the　house。　Over　the　small　fireplace　
in　the　adjoining　handkerchiefsized　family　room　was　a　row　of　pictures。　
First　a　wedding　picture　of　Charlie　and　my　mom　in　Las　Vegas；　then　one　of　
the　three　of　us　in　the　hospital　after　I　was　born；　taken　by　a　helpful　
nurse；　followed　by　the　procession　of　my　school　pictures　up　to　last　
year's。　Those　were　embarrassing　to　look　at　—　I　would　have　to　see　what　I　
could　do　to　get　Charlie　to　put　them　somewhere　else；　at　least　while　I　was　
living　here。　

It　was　impossible；　being　in　this　house；　not　to　realize　that　Charlie　had　
never　gotten　over　my　mom。　It　made　me　unfortable。　

I　didn't　want　to　be　too　early　to　school；　but　I　couldn't　stay　in　the　house　
anymore。　I　donned　my　jacket　—　which　had　the　feel　of　a　biohazard　suit　—　
and　headed　out　into　the　rain。　

It　was　just　drizzling　still；　not　enough　to　soak　me　through　immediately　as　
I　reached　for　the　house　key　that　was　always　hidden　under　the　eaves　by　the　
door；　and　locked　up。　The　sloshing　of　my　new　waterproof　boots　was　
unnerving。　I　missed　the　normal　crunch　of　gravel　as　I　walked。　I　couldn't　
pause　and　admire　my　truck　again　as　I　wanted；　I　was　in　a　hurry　to　get　out　
of　the　misty　wet　that　swirled　around　my　head　and　clung　to　my　hair　under　

my　hood。　

Inside　the　truck；　it　was　nice　and　dry。　Either　Billy　or　Charlie　had　
obviously　cleaned　it　up；　but　the　tan　upholstered　seats　still　smelled　
faintly　of　tobacco；　gasoline；　and　peppermint。　The　engine　started　quickly；　
to　my　relief；　but　loudly；　roaring　to　life　and　then　idling　at　top　volume。　
Well；　a　truck　this　old　was　bound　to　have　a　flaw。　The　antique　radio　
worked；　a　plus　that　I　hadn't　expected。　

Finding　the　school　wasn't　difficult；　though　I'd　never　been　there　before。　
The　school　was；　like　most　other　things；　just　off　the　highway。　It　was　not　
obvious　that　it　was　a　school；　only　the　sign；　which　declared　it　to　be　the　
Forks　High　School；　made　me　stop。　It　looked　like　a　collection　of　matching　
houses；　built　with　marooncolored　bricks。　There　were　so　many　trees　and　
shrubs　I　couldn't　see　its　size　at　first。　Where　was　the　feel　of　the　
institution？　I　wondered　nostalgically。　Where　were　the　chainlink　fences；　
the　metal　detectors？　

I　parked　in　front　of　the　first　building；　which　had　a　small　sign　over　the　
door　reading　front　office。　No　one　else　was　parked　there；　so　I　was　sure　it　
was　off　limits；　but　I　decided　I　would　get　directions　inside　instead　of　
circling　around　in　the　rain　like　an　idiot。　I　stepped　unwillingly　out　of　
the　toasty　truck　cab　and　walked　down　a　little　stone　path　lined　with　dark　
hedges。　I　took　a　deep　breath　before　opening　the　door。　

Inside；　it　was　brightly　lit；　and　warmer　than　I'd　hoped。　The　office　was　
small；　a　little　waiting　area　with　padded　folding　chairs；　orangeflecked　
mercial　carpet；　notices　and　awards　cluttering　the　walls；　a　big　clock　
ticking　loudly。　Plants　grew　everywhere　in　large　plastic　pots；　as　if　there　
wasn't　enough　greenery　outside。　The　room　was　cut　in　half　by　a　long　
counter；　cluttered　with　wire　baskets　full　of　papers　and　brightly　colored　
flyers　taped　to　its　front。　There　were　three　desks　behind　the　counter；　one　
of　which　was　manned　by　a　large；　redhaired　woman　wearing　glasses。　She　was　
wearing　a　purple　tshirt；　which　immediately　made　me　feel　overdressed。　

The　redhaired　woman　looked　up。　〃Can　I　help　you？〃　

〃I'm　Isabella　Swan；〃　I　informed　her；　and　saw　the　immediate　awareness　
light　her　eyes。　I　was　expected；　a　topic　of　gossip　no　doubt。　Daughter　of　
the　Chief's　flighty　exwife；　e　home　at　last。　

〃Of　course；〃　she　said。　She　dug　through　a　precariously　stacked　pile　of　
documents　on　her　desk　till　she　found　the　ones　she　was　looking　for。　〃I　
have　your　schedule　right　here；　and　a　map　of　the　school。〃　She　brought　
several　sheets　to　the　counter　to　show　roe。　

She　went　through　my　classes　for　me；　highlighting　the　best　route　to　each　
on　the　map；　and　gave　me　a　slip　to　have　each　teacher　sign；　which　I　was　to　
bring　back　at　the　end　of　the　day。　She　smiled　at　me　and　hoped；　like　
Charlie；　that　I　would　like　it　here　in　Forks。　I　smiled　back　as　
convincingly　as　I　could。　

When　I　went　back　out　to　my　truck；　other　students　were　starting　to　arrive。　
I　drove　around　the　school；　following　the　line　of　traffic。　I　was　glad　to　
see　that　most　of　the　cars　were　older　like　mine；　nothing　flashy。　At　home　
I'd　lived　in　one　of　the　few　lowerine　neighborhoods　that　were　included　
in　the　Paradise　Valley　District。　It　was　a　mon　thing　to　see　a　new　
Mercedes　or　Porsche　in　the　student　lot。　The　nicest　car　here　was　a　shiny　
Volvo；　and　it　stood　out。　Still；　I　cut　the　engine　as　soon　as　I　was　in　a　
spot；　so　that　the　thunderous　volume　wouldn't　draw　attention　to　me。　

I　looked　at　the　map　in　the　truck；　trying　to　memorize　it　now；　hopefully　I　
wouldn't　have　to　walk　around　with　it　stuck　in　front　of　my　nose　all　day。　I　
stuffed　everything　in　my　bag；　slung　the　strap　over　my　shoulder；　and　
sucked　in　a　huge　breath。　I　can　do　this；　I　lied　to　myself　feebly。　No　one　
was　going　to　bite　me。　I　finally　exhaled　and　stepped　out　of　the　truck。　

I　kept　my　face　pulled　back　into　my　hood　as　I　walked　to　the　sidewalk；　
crowded　with　teenagers。　My　plain　black　jacket　didn't　stand　out；　I　noticed　
with　relief。　

Once　I　got　around　the　cafeteria；　building　three　was　easy　to　spot。　A　large　

black　〃3〃　was　painted　on　a　white　square　on　the　east　corner。　I　felt　my　
breathing　gradually　creeping　toward　hyperventilation　as　I　approached　the　
door。　I　tried　holding　my　breath　as　I　followed　two　unisex　raincoats　
through　the　door。　

The　classroom　was　small。　The　people　in　front　of　me　stopped　just　inside　
the　door　to　hang　up　their　coats　on　a　long　row　of　hooks。　I　copied　them。　
They　were　two　girls；　one　a　porcelaincolored　blonde；　the　other　also　pale；　
with　light　brown　hair。　At　least　my　skin　wouldn't　be　a　standout　here。　

I　took　the　slip　up　to　the　teacher；　a　tall；　balding　man　whose　desk　had　a　
nameplate　identifying　him　as　Mr。　Mason。　He　gawked　at　me　when　he　saw　my　
name　—　not　an　encouraging　response　—　and　of　course　I　flushed　tomato　red。　
But　at　least　he　sent　me　to　an　empty　desk　at　the　back　without　introducing　
me　to　the　class。　It　was　harder　for　my　new　classmates　to　stare　at　me　in　
the　back；　but　somehow；　they　managed。　I　kept　my　eyes　down　on　the　reading　
list　the　teacher　had　given　me。　It　was　fairly　basic：　Bronte；　Shakespeare；　
Chaucer；　Faulkner。　I'd　already　read　everything。　That　was　forting…　and　
boring。　I　wondered　if　my　mom　would　send　me　my　folder　of　old　essays；　or　if　
she　would　think　that　was　cheating。　I　went　through　different　arguments　
with　her　in　my　head　while　the　teacher　droned　on。　

When　the　bell　rang；　a　nasal　buzzing　sound；　a　gangly　boy　with　skin　
problems　and　hair　black　as　an　oil　slick　leaned　across　the　aisle　to　talk　
to　me。　

〃You're　Isabella　Swan；　aren't　you？〃　He　looked　like　the　overly　helpful；　
chess　club　type。　

〃Bella；〃　I　corrected。　Everyone　within　a　threeseat　radius　turned　to　look　
at　me。　

〃Where's　your　next　class？〃　he　asked。　

I　had　to　check　in　my　bag。　〃Um；　Government；　with　Jefferson；　in　building　
six。〃　

There　was　nowhere　to　look　without　meeting　curious　eyes。　

〃I'm　headed　toward　building　four；　I　could　show　you　the　way…〃　Definitely　
overhelpful。　〃I'm　Eric；〃　he　added。　

I　smiled　tentatively。　〃Thanks。〃　

We　got　our　jackets　and　headed　out　into　the　rain；　which　had　picked　up。　I　
could　have　sworn　several　people　behind　us　were　walking　close　enough　to　
eavesdrop。　I　hoped　I　wasn't　getting　paranoid。　

〃So；　this　is　a　lot　different　than　Phoenix；　huh？〃　he　asked。　

〃Very。〃　

〃It　doesn't　rain　much　there；　does　it？〃　

〃Three　or　four　times　a　year。〃　

〃Wow；　what　must　that　be　like？〃　he　wondered。　

〃Sunny；〃　I　told　him。　

〃You　don't　look　very　tan。〃　

〃My　mother　is　part　albino。〃　

He　studied　my　face　apprehensively；　and　I　sighed。　It　looked　like　clouds　
and　a　sense　of　humor　didn't　mix。　A　few　months　of　this　and　I'd　forget　how　
to　use　sarcasm。　

We　walked　back　around　the　cafeteria；　to　the　south　buildings　by　the　gym。　
Eric　walked　me　right　to　the　door；　though　it　was　clearly　marked。　

〃Well；　good　luck；〃　he　said　as　I　touched　the　handle。　〃Maybe　we'll　have　

some　other　classes　together。〃　He　sounded　hopeful。　

I　smiled　at　him　vaguely　and　went　inside。　

The　rest　of　the　morning　passed　in　about　the　same　fashion。　My　Trigonometry　
teacher；　Mr。　Varner；　who　I　would　have　hated　anyway　just　because　of　the　
subject　he　taught；　was　the　only　one　who　made　me　stand　in　front　of　the　
class　and　introduce　myself。　I　stammered；　blushed；　and　tripped　over　my　own　
boots　on　the　way　to　my　seat。　

After　two　classes；　I　started　to　recognize　several　of　the　faces　in　each　
class。　There　was　always　someone　braver　than　the　others　who　would　
introduce　themselves　and　ask　me　questions　about　how　I　was　liking　Forks。　I　
tried　to　be　diplomatic；　but　mostly　I　just　lied　a　lot。　At　least　I　never　
needed　the　map。　

One　girl　sat　next　to　me　in　both　Trig　and　Spanish；　and　she　walked　with　me　
to　the　cafeteria　for　lunch。　She　was　tiny；　several　inches　shorter　than　my　
five　feet　four　inches；　but　her　wildly　curly　dark　hair　made　up　a　lot　of　
the　difference　between　our　heights。　I　couldn't　remember　her　name；　so　I　
smiled　and　nodded　as　she　prattled　about　teachers　and　classes。　I　didn't　
try　to　keep　up。　

We　sat　at　the　end　of　a　full　table　with　several　of　her　friends；　who　she　
introduced　to　me。　I　forgot　all　their　names　as　soon　as　she　spoke　them。　
They　seemed　impressed　by　her　bravery　in　speaking　to　me。　The　boy　from　
English；　Eric；　waved　at　me　from　across　the　room。　

It　was　there；　sitting　in　the　lunchroom；　trying　to　make　conversation　with　
seven　curious　strangers；　that　I　first　saw　them。　

They　were　sitting　in　the　corner　of　the　cafeteria；　as　far　away　from　where　
I　sat　as　possible　in　the　long　room。　There　were　five　of　them。　They　weren't　
talking；　and　they　weren't　eating；　though　they　each　had　a　tray　of　
untouched　food　in　front　of　them。　They　weren't　gawking　at　me；　unlike　most　
of　the　other　students；　so　it　was　safe　to　stare　at　them　without　fear　of　
meeting　an　excessively　interested　pair　of　eyes。　But　it　was　none　of　these　
things　that　caught；　and　held；　my　attention。　

They　didn't　look　anything　alike。　Of　the　three　boys；　one　was　big　—　muscled　
like　a　serious　weight　lifter；　with　dark；　curly　hair。　Another　was　taller；　
leaner；　but　still　muscular；　and　honey　blond。　The　last　was　lanky；　less　
bulky；　with　untidy；　bronzecolored　hair。　He　was　more　boyish　than　the　
others；　who　looked　like　they　could　be　in　college；　or　even　teachers　here　
rather　than　students。　

The　girls　were　opposites。　The　tall　one　was　statuesque。　She　had　a　
beautiful　figure；　the　kind　you　saw　on　the　cover　of　the　Sports　Illustrated　
swimsuit　issue；　the　kind　that　made　every　girl　around　her　take　a　hit　on　
her　selfesteem　just　by　being　in　the　same　room。　Her　hair　was　golden；　
gently　waving　to　the　middle　of　her　back。　The　short　girl　was　pixielike；　
thin　in　the　extreme；　with　small　features。　Her　hair　was　a　deep　black；　
cropped　short　and　pointing　in　every　direction。　

And　yet；　they　were　all　exactly　alike。　Every　one　of　them　was　chalky　pale；　
the　palest　of　all　the　students　living　in　this　sunless　town。　Paler　than　
me；　the　albino。　They　all　had　very　dark　eyes　despite　the　range　in　hair　
tones。　They　also　had　dark　shadows　under　those　eyes　—　purplish；　bruiselike　
shadows。　As　if　they　were　all　suffering　from　a　sleepless　night；　or　almost　
done　recovering　from　a　broken　nose。　Though　their　noses；　all　their　
features；　were　straight；　perfect；　angular。　

But　all　this　is　not　why　I　couldn't　look　away。　

I　stared　because　their　faces；　so　different；　so　similar；　were　all　
devastatingly；　inhumanly　beautiful。　They　were　faces　you　never　expected　to　
see　except　perhaps　on　the　airbrushed　pages　of　a　fashion　magazine。　Or　
painted　by　an　old　master　as　the　face　of　an　angel。　It　was　hard　to　decide　
who　was　the　most　beautiful　—　maybe　the　perfect　blond　girl；　or　the　
bronzehaired　boy。　

They　were　all　looking　away　—　away　from　each　other；　away　from　the　other　

students；　away　from　anything　in　particular　as　far　as　I　could　tell。　As　I　
watched；　the　small　girl　rose　with　her　tray　—　unopened　soda；　unbitten　
apple　—　and　walked　away　with　a　quick；　graceful　lope　that　belonged　on　a　
runway。　I　watched；　amazed　at　her　lithe　dancer's　step；　till　she　dumped　her　
tray　and　glided　through　the　back　door；　faster　than　I　would　have　thought　
possible。　My　eyes　darted　back　to　the　others；　who　sat　unchanging。　

〃Who　are　they？〃　I　asked　the　girl　from　my　Spanish　class；　whose　name　I'd　
forgotten。　

As　she　looked　up　to　see　who　I　meant　—　though　already　knowing；　probably；　
from　my　tone　—　suddenly　he　looked　at　her；　the　thinner　one；　the　boyish　
one；　the　youngest；　perhaps。　He　looked　at　my　neighbor　for　just　a　fraction　
of　a　second；　and　then　his　dark　eyes　flickered　to　mine。　

He　looked　away　quickly；　more　quickly　than　I　could；　though　in　a　flush　of　
embarrassment　I　dropped　my　eyes　at　once。　In　that　brief　flash　of　a　glance；　
his　face　held　nothing　of　interest　—　it　was　as　if　she　had　called　his　name；　
and　he'd　looked　up　in　involuntary　response；　already　having　decided　not　to　
answer。　

My　neighbor　giggled　in　embarrassment；　looking　at　the　table　like　I　did。　

〃That's　Edward　and　Emmett　Cullen；　and　Rosalie　and　Jasper　Hale。　The　one　
who　left　was　Alice　Cullen；　they　all　live　together　with　Dr。　Cullen　and　his　
wife。〃　She　said　this　under　her　breath。　

I　glanced　sideways　at　the　beautiful　boy；　who　was　looking　at　his　tray　now；　
picking　a　bagel　to　pieces　with　long；　pale　fingers。　His　mouth　was　moving　
very　quickly；　his　perfect　lips　barely　opening。　The　other　three　still　
looked　away；　and　yet　I　felt　he　was　speaking　quietly　to　them。　

Strange；　unpopular　names；　I　thought。　The　kinds　of　names　grandparents　had。　
But　maybe　that　was　in　vogue　here　—　small　town　names？　I　finally　remembered　
that　my　neighbor　was　called　Jessica；　a　perfectly　mon　name。　There　were　
two　girls　named　Jessica　in　my　History　class　back　home。　

〃They　are…　very　nicelooking。〃　I　struggled　with　the　conspicuous　
understatemen