a dress. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. She was such a lesbian. And who knew what I would be doing tonight...¹⁷⁴ Or who I would be doing tonight...¹⁷⁵ But that was definitely the wrong path to let my uncoordinated self skip on down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not eeeven close.
So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first.
She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch, which had been truncated by five minutes, much to my despair. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said, figuring that it was basically the same thing over and over again. As we passed the lockers and students, I became aware that I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens—to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. When I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me—would Fredward be waiting to sit with me again? I almost fainted with joy.
As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. Were they gone? Forever? Had they never existed? Had my awareness of their true identities negated their existence?¹⁷⁶ With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me, feeling as I felt, and anxious to become one big ball, one epic nebula of feelings for each other that would shine to every corner of the cafeteria and make a jealous idiot out of every one of my acquaintances. The place was nearly filled—Spanish had made us late—but there was no sign of Fredward or any of his family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength.
I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore. Nothing mattered anymore—not even preserving my image as an interesting and tolerant newcomer. All I could think of was myself and my feelings, and Fredward and his, which were intertwining more and more as the school year went on...



174. Masturbating.
175. Her own hand, Mrs. Humphrey.
176. Something about Rumplestiltskin.

146

Chapter 7

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