Chapter 6

           AsIsatinmyroom,tryingtoconcentrateonthethirdactofMacbeth,Iwasreallylisteningformytruck.Iwouldhavethought,evenoverthepoundingrain,Icouldhaveheardtheengine’sroar.ButwhenIwenttopeekoutthecurtain-again-itwassuddenlythere.

           Iwasn’tlookingforwardtoFriday,anditmorethanliveduptomynon-expectations.Ofcoursetherewerethefaintingcomments.Jessicaespeciallyseemedtogetakickoutofthatstory.LuckilyMikehadkepthismouthshut,andnooneseemedtoknowaboutEdward’sinvolvement.She

           didhavealotofquestionsaboutlunch,though.

           "SowhatdidEdwardCullenwantyesterday?"JessicaaskedinTrig.

           "Idon’tknow,"Iansweredtruthfully."Heneverreallygottothepoint."

           "Youlookedkindofmad,"shefished.

           "DidI?"Ikeptmyexpressionblank.

           "Youknow,I’veneverseenhimsitwithanyonebuthisfamilybefore.Thatwasweird."

           "Weird,"Iagreed.Sheseemedannoyed;sheflippedherdarkcurlsimpatiently-Iguessedshe’dbeenhopingtohearsomethingthatwouldmakeagoodstoryforhertopasson.

           TheworstpartaboutFridaywasthat,eventhoughIknewhewasn’tgoingtobethere,Istillhoped.WhenIwalkedintothecafeteriawithJessicaandMike,Icouldn’tkeepfromlookingathistable,whereRosalie,Alice,andJaspersattalking,headsclosetogether.AndIcouldn’tstopthegloomthatengulfedmeasIrealizedIdidn’tknowhowlongIwouldhavetowaitbeforeIsawhimagain.

           Atmyusualtable,everyonewasfullofourplansforthenextday.