CHAPTER NINE:

"Ladies first, partner?" Edythe asked, her full, pink mouth curving into a perfect dimpled smile.

"Sure," I said, more then happy to let her do as many of the slides as possible– I remembered that 100% on her pop quiz, and I couldn't even name all the phases of mitosis. Of course, I'd like her to name all of Gamp's laws of transfiguration, explain why porcupine quills should never be added to a cauldron while it was still over an open flame or turn a cat into a tea kettle.

Edythe tugged the microscope to her side of the table and studied the first slide for a quarter second– maybe less. I almost felt like advising her normal humans took a little longer then that to visually process something.

"Prophase."

She switched out the slide for the next, then paused and looked up at me.

"Or did you want to check?" she challenged. I shrugged, not rising to it.

"You'd know better then I would."

She smiled slightly at that and wrote the word Prophase neatly on the top line of our worksheet. Her handwriting was beautiful, like she'd taken classes in penmanship, looping all her letters in perfect calligraphy. If my guess was right, and she had taken penmanship lessons, then I'd estimate that the latest likely time for her being Turned would be the early 1900's.

She barely even glanced through the microscope at the second slide before writing Anaphase on the next line and as she moved the next slide into place I took advantage of her diverted attention to stare.

Now that I didn't feel like my life was in danger, I couldn't help but be curious– I'd never been so close to a vampire before. Aside from her coven, the only other vampire I'd seen outside of my textbooks was the one who attended Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. The vampire, Ambrosia, had been an unearthly sort of beautiful, with the type of body that could reduce a classical sculptor to weeping tears of envy and begging her to be their model; her elegantly pinned up dark hair had been a direct contrast to her ivory skin, and her eyes the color of freshly spilled blood.

Edythe was... impossibly lovelier, and it wasn't just because I could look at her without being consumed by the unpleasant cocktail of fear, horror and disgust I'd felt toward Ambrosia, who murdered muggles to stay alive.

Suddenly Edythe's head flipped up, golden eyes to the front of the class, just before Mrs. Banner called out, "Miss Cullen?"

"Yes, Mrs. Banner?" Edythe slid the microscope toward me as she spoke.

"Perhaps you should let Mr. Swan have an opportunity to learn?"

"Of course, Mrs. Banner."

Edythe turned and gave me a well, go ahead then look. I silently cursed. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.

Bending down to look through the eyepiece I could sense she was watching, which for once I considered fair, seeing as I'd just been staring at her for once. It still made me feel awkward, like just inclining my head was a clumsy move.

And I couldn't figure out the bloody slide. My mind had gone completely blank. Straightening up, I decided to be bluntly honest with her. "I'm really sorry," I said, awkwardly, "but... well, this week is the first time I've ever studied biology, and I honestly couldn't even name all the mitosis phases if I tried, let alone identify them."

Her golden eyes widened in surprise and slight confusion. "Really? Why did you enroll in this class then?" She asked, puzzled.

"It was Charlize's– she's my mother– idea." I admitted. "I had a very narrow and limited selection of subjects from... before I moved to Forks, and with the other subjects I'm doing, I had to pick one of the sciences. Charlize said that Biology at least had some crossover with PE."

Edythe looked intrigued. "Which school did you go to before you moved here?" She asked, which was exactly the question I didn't want her to ask.

"I didn't exactly go to a typical sort of school," I said, slowly. "And the subjects there weren't exactly the sort that are studied here."

"You realize that doesn't answer my question at all," Edythe said, lightly, and I could feel the heat on my cheeks.

"It was that obvious?" I didn't try denying it. Edythe smiled.

"Only a little. Next time add a deflection at the end." I blinked.

"Are you giving me tips on how to lie better?" I asked, and her perfect smile widened.

"Maybe." She said and I couldn't help my surprised laugh.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"Here, slide me the microscope." She said. I did as she said and our hands accidentally brushed. This time though I didn't flinch at how icy cold they were, having expected it. Still, they felt like she'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class– I couldn't imagine how she could ever pass it away as human.

"You're right, it's metaphase." She said, speaking louder then she needed to. I was confused but then I noticed movement in my peripheral, Mrs. Banner moving away from us, apparently satisfied with my involvement in the task she'd set.

"Thank you," I told Edythe, "really."

She flashed me a smile and the instinctive thrill of fear that licked down my spine at the sight of those too perfect, too white teeth made me shiver in something that was closer to anticipation then fear.

"No problem, partner. And the last slide is no mystery." She said, writing the words Metaphase and Telophase onto the last two lines of the worksheet in perfect calligraphy.

We were finished long before anyone else was close. I could see McKayla and her partner comparing two slides again and again, and another pair had their book open under the table.

Mrs. Banner came to our table again, looking over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers.

"So, Edythe," Mrs. Banner began.

"Beau identified half of the slides," Edythe said before Mrs. Banner could finish.

Mrs. Banner looked at me now; her expression was skeptical. I tried to arrange my features into something believable.

"Have you done this lab before?" she asked.

"I spent half of Saturday going over the biology textbook," I said honestly. "This course is pretty different from my old school. Do you run a workshop at lunch times, or have any office times I can visit you in if I have questions?" Mrs. Banner looked surprised but she informed me of the times easily enough and I wrote them down in the margin of my notebook.

"Now that was excellent deflection." Edythe praised me when she left, going to go tell off the pair with the book under the table.

"Thanks." I said, smiling.

"So, too bad about the snow, right?"

I arched an eyebrow at her– it was a skill I had perfected using a mirror (Lyric and Gordy had laughed themselves sick).

"Are you actually asking me about the weather?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said, with a soft laugh that sounded like chiming bells.

"Well, it's not much of a shame." I answered her question about the not-snow.

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question, but I answered it anyway.

"I don't mind it. Not really. The rain's annoying, sure, but the cold's fine. I like real snow, though, not dirty, slushy ice." I explained.

"Real snow?" she asked, looking amused. I shrugged.

"You know, the sort that when you step outside you can't see more then a few feet from your face and you have to wear boots because you end up sinking in past your ankles..." my voice trailed off, memories of winters at Hogwarts momentarily overwhelming me, and bringing with them a powerful nostalgia, as well as a sense of grief.

When I focused back on Edythe, the amusement was gone from her face, replaced by something softer, though her long, dark gold eyes were confused. "I thought you were from Phoenix," she said, her tone gentle.

"I am," I told her, because that was sort of true. "I've spent a lot of time abroad, though."

"Am I going to get a straight answer if I ask why? Or where?" she asked.

"Probably not," I admitted. She nodded.

"That's fair enough," she said. "What about if I ask whether or not you like Forks? Will I get a truthful answer?"

"You can always ask and see," I said, only realizing after I said it how flirtatious it sounded. Edythe didn't seem upset, though, a half smile dancing along her full, pink lips.

"Are you enjoying living in Forks, Beau?" I paused for a long moment, then answered honestly.

"Yes and no. It's good spending time with Charlize, sure, but..." I trailed off, thinking of Lyric and Gordy, and Harri, Hermes, Ronda and Neve, and even Irvine and Shaun and the twins. "I miss my friends." I told her, quietly. "So much it hurts."

"You can't see them?" Edythe asked, her voice softening. I shook my head.

"It's complicated." I muttered.

"I think I can keep up," she said, smiling just enough for a hint of dimples to show.

"I know you could," I said, honestly. "You're wicked smart, Edythe. It's just not something I can talk about." She gave me a long look and then nodded.

"Alright. I suppose you'll have to remain a frustrating enigma to me." She gave an overly tragic sigh that made me smile again, which judging by the satisfaction on her face was what she'd aimed for.

"You're much nicer then you pretend to be," I told her, without really thinking it through. Edythe looked surprised for a moment then shrugged lightly.

"You bring it out in me." She said, and despite the light tone she'd used it was a heavy enough statement that I didn't really know how to respond. She spoke first, though. "I don't entirely understand you."

"Does anyone ever really understand another person?" I countered. Edythe tilted her head to the side.

"Maybe not, but reading people... it usually comes very easily to me. But I can't– I suppose I don't know quite what to make of you. Is that funny?"

"More... unexpected." I said, trying to flatten my grin. "My best friend, sometimes it was like he knew what I was thinking before I did, and Gor– another friend used to call me an open book; he said he could all but read my thoughts written out across my forehead."

Edythe's smile vanished and she half-glared into my eyes, not angry, just intense. As if she was trying hard to read those words Gordy had seen. Then, switching gears just as abruptly, she was smiling again. "I suppose I've gotten overconfident."

I didn't know what to say to that. "Um, sorry?"

She laughed, showing those blinding white teeth again and causing another shiver to run down my spine.

Mrs. Banner called the class to order then, and I was relieved to give her my attention. It was a little too intense, making small talk that wasn't quite just small talk with Edythe. I felt dizzy in a strange way, and wary– Edythe had seemed almost too interested in what I had to say. I tried to focus as Mrs. Banner went through the lab with transparencies on the overhead projector, but my thoughts were far away from the lecture.

When the bell rang, Edythe rose gracefully to her feet. "I'll see you tomorrow, partner," she said, with her dimpled smile, before she swiftly crossed the room, disappearing out the door. McKayla got to my table almost as quickly.

"That was awful," she complained. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Edythe for a partner."

"Yeah, she seemed to know her way around an onion root."

"She seemed really friendly," McKayla commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. She didn't sound happy about it.

I couldn't concentrate on McKayla's chatter as we walked to Gym, and P.E. didn't do much to hold my interest, either, though I made sure to pay enough attention that I didn't accidentally hurt someone– volleyball might not be as complicated as Quidditch, and the balls not as hard, but that didn't mean they didn't pack a punch of their own.

I changed quickly, as had become my routine in order to avoid McKayla, and the rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, though I was still pretty damp when I got in the truck. I turned the heat up as high as it could go, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine, just happy to be heading home and leaving behind the dangerous temptation that was Edythe Cullen.