CHAPTER EIGHT:

Nothing noteworthy happened on Friday.

McKayla was annoying, classes were hard and covered a lot of things I'd never heard of or done before, Ms. Varner called me out again in math– though at least this time I had the correct answer, Logan glared at me during lunchtime, and I felt a curious golden stare fixed on me all throughout biology.

Even some of the other students were beginning to notice it.

"Edythe Cullen was staring at you," McKayla said on the way to PE, looking very unhappy about it.

"Oh?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"What, did you ask her out or something?" she asked, her voice aiming for the same nonchalance, but not succeeding as well as I hoped I was. "Because she's gorgeous, but I wouldn't waste your time– she doesn't go out with anyone. No one's good enough for her." There was thinly veiled disgust in her voice, as well as a whole boatload of resentment, and it made my skin prickle uncomfortably.

"I've barely talked to her." I said, hoping that would end the conversation.

No such luck.

"The Cullens basically don't talk to anyone, or like anyone. I don't think they even notice anybody enough to like them." McKayla said. "But Edythe was staring at you." Honestly, it sounded like she was accusing me, and I didn't know how I was supposed to respond.

I was the human with the fascinating scent; I wasn't surprised that I'd managed to intrigue Edythe, especially with my less then subtle reaction on Monday. But McKayla was acting like I owed her some sort of explanation, and I didn't even like her. The only one of her group I actually liked was Abel, because he was pretty much the quintessential Ravenclaw; quiet, serious about his studies and never far from a book. The conversation I'd had with him about 'Catcher In The Rye' during lunch was the longest conversation I'd had with anyone at Forks High, and Abel had given me the directions to Forks' library afterwards, though he'd warned me there was a very limited selection of books available.

"I probably had something in my hair." I said, with a shrug. McKayla's mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line, but I ignored it, heading off to the boy's locker room to change.

That afternoon I turned on a cooking channel and fiddled with the radio, trying to find the Potterwatch broadcast, while learning how to make a soufflé.

The password this time turned out to be Moody– which gave me an idea of what the general theme of Potterwatch passwords would be– the radio tuning in to LeeAnne Jordan mid-sentence.

"—picking up the latest stories about You-Know-Who; we've heard rumours that she keeps being sighted abroad."

"Well, who wouldn't want a nice little holiday after all the hard work she's been putting in?" Georgina (or Frederica) asked.

"True. But the point is people don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking she's out of the country: maybe she is, maybe she isn't. But the fact remains she can be faster than Severina Snape confronted with shampoo."

"I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but: safety first!" Frederica (or Georgina) said– and that made the two of us; 'safety first' was the last possible thing I'd expect to hear from either of the twins.

"And what of the rumours about Harri Potter? Do you believe she's still in the country? Do you think she's still alive?" LeeAnne Jordan asked, and I stopped breathing as I waited for the twin to answer.

"I do." She said, with iron in her voice. "If she had been killed, or had run away, the Death Eaters would want us to know: they'd tell everyone."

"And what would you say to Harri, if you knew she was listening?" LeeAnne Jordan pressed.

"I'd tell her to keep it up, whatever she's doing. We know she'll help finish You-Know-Who!" Frederica/Georgina said, and I nodded fiercely, even though there was no one around to see it.

"Thank you very much for those wise words. Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don't know when it'll be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure: we shall be back!"

"Keep each other safe. Keep faith."

"And do what you can to stop You-Know-Who!"

When the radio turned back to white noise I had to blink back unmanly tears. I lifted a hand, pressing to my chest where I could feel the harsh pounding of my heart. In an effort to calm and center myself, I tried turning my focus on the cooking show again. When it finished, I wiped away the dampness on my cheeks and promised myself that was the last of the tears.

For today, anyway.

It was my turn to cook so I made lasagna– and a soufflé– then got started on my homework.

When Charlize got home at seven I served up dinner and stayed mostly silent as I ate, still occupied by thoughts of Harri and Hogwarts. Charlize was the one who brought up the topic of my schooling. "Is this you buttering me up for when you tell me you're not continuing school?" She asked as I brought out the soufflé. Her face was mostly resigned. It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about, to remember the deal we'd made.

"Actually," I told her, slowly, "I thought I might keep giving it a go." Charlize looked shocked.

"Really?" She asked, before hastily adding, "of course, I'm happy you are, but you seemed very against it, all week."

Well, all week I'd thought that five vampires with a diet consisting of the blood of the innocent were attending my school, which was a very good reason to be against it, in my opinion. Not that I was planning on telling Charlize that– there was no point in worrying her about something she had no control over.

"I reserve the right to pull out if I decide to," I warned, though, and she nodded, looking reluctant but accepting.

"Okay. It's a deal."

-

My first weekend in Forks went without incident. Charlize worked most of both days. I finished my homework, got ahead on my classwork, and finally read the English texts. On Sunday I drove to the library, but didn't bother to get a card– Abel had been right, there wasn't anything interesting in it I hadn't read; I would have to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got... and then winced at the thought.

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I tried to smile at everyone. It was colder this morning, but at least it wasn't raining. In English, McKayla took her (unfortunately) now-normal seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on 'Wuthering Heights', which after all the hours I'd spent reading it on Saturday was straightforward, very simple.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind was freezing against my cheeks, my nose.

"Wow," McKayla said. "It's snowing!"

I looked skeptically at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face. Snowing? Really? This was nothing like a Hogwarts snowstorm; heavy and freezing, deeply burying the grounds of the school so the trek to the greenhouses for Herbology and the groundkeeper, Ruby Hagrid's, hut for Care of Magical Creatures meant stumbling through snow that could reach knee-deep.

It also meant making snow angels with Lyric, having snowball fights with the Gryffindors, and ducking the flying snowballs the twins charmed to chase people around the school (mainly Slytherins).

I was surprised to realize I was blinking away tears. McKayla was looking up at me with a concerned expression on her face that reminded me why I hadn't just ditched her already– she might be a pain in the arse, but under it all she meant well.

"Are you okay, Beau?" she asked, softly.

"I'm fine." I said, in a voice that was croakier then I meant for it to be. She opened her mouth, probably to keep pushing, only for a big, wet ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of her head.

We both turned to see where it came from. I suspected Erica, who was walking away, her back toward us– in the wrong direction for her next class. McKayla clearly had the same idea, bending over and beginning to scrape together a pile of white mush, eyes on Erica's retreating figure.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke, silently thanking Erica for getting me out of an awkward conversation and vowing to do something nice for her.

I kept a sharp lookout on the way to the cafeteria with Jeremy after History. Mush balls were flying everywhere, and the binder I was using as a shield had bits of dirty ice melting on it.

McKayla caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, her usually sleek hair turning frizzy from the wet. She and Jeremy were talking animatedly about a snow fight at the table, and I zoned them out to talk with Abel instead about the book he'd read over the weekend– Stephen King's 'The Shining'. When that somehow led to the joint realisation of our shared love for Monty Python, we decided to schedule a movie night.

After, I reflected that while I might not ever find another Lyric, Abel seemed like a nice guy and getting to know him wouldn't hurt. Though why he hung around with Jeremy and Logan, I had no idea; I put it down to them knowing each other since kindergarten. That had to forge some sort of bond.

When the bell rang I didn't really want to walk to class with McKayla like usual– she seemed to be a popular target for snowballs– but when we got to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. This would never have happened at Hogwarts, I couldn't help but think scornfully– in Britain when it snowed, it bloody snowed.

Much to my exasperation, McKayla kept up a string of complaints all the way to building four. Once inside the classroom, I was relieved she had to move away to her own seat. Edythe's chair was still empty and I settled myself as Mrs. Banner walked around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table.

When Edythe entered the classroom, for the first time I didn't actively try to... well, not ignore her so much as avoid her. She seemed surprised when I offered her a small smile, but she returned it swiftly enough.

Mrs. Banner started the class and I tried to concentrate as she explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, she would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Get started," she commanded.

Bollocks, I thought– I'd been hoping she'd give me one last flip through the textbook. Turning to Edythe, I resigned myself to what was going to be an embarrassing conversation.