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           Pityshookmyresolve.

           "Iwaswonderingif...well,ifyoumightbeplanningtoaskme."

           Ipausedforamoment,hatingthewaveofguiltthatsweptthroughme.ButIsaw,fromthecornerofmyeye,Edward’sheadtiltreflexivelyinmydirection.

           "Mike,Ithinkyoushouldtellheryes,"Isaid.

           "Didyoualreadyasksomeone?"DidEdwardnoticehowMike’seyesflickeredinhisdirection?

           "No,"Iassuredhim."I’mnotgoingtothedanceatall."

           "Whynot?"Mikedemanded.

           Ididn’twanttogetintothesafetyhazardsthatdancingpresented,soIquicklymadenewplans.

           "I’mgoingtoSeattlethatSaturday,"Iexplained.Ineededtogetoutoftownanyway-itwassuddenlytheperfecttimetogo.

           "Can’tyougosomeotherweekend?"

           "Sorry,no,"Isaid."Soyoushouldn’tmakeJesswaitanylonger-it’srude."

           "Yeah,you’reright,"hemumbled,andturned,dejected,towalkbacktohisseat.Iclosedmyeyesandpressedmyfingerstomytemples,tryingtopushtheguiltandsympathyoutofmyhead.Mr.Bannerbegantalking.Isighedandopenedmyeyes.

           AndEdwardwasstaringatmecuriously,thatsame,familiaredgeoffrustrationevenmoredistinctnowinhisblackeyes.

           Istaredback,surprised,expectinghimtolookquicklyaway.Butinsteadhecontinuedtogazewithprobingintensityintomyeyes.Therewasnoquestionofmelookingaway.Myhandsstartedtoshake.

           "Mr.Cullen?"theteachercalled,seekingtheanswertoaquestionthatIhadn’theard.

           "TheKrebsCycle,"Edwardanswered,seemingreluctantasheturnedtolookatMr.Banner.