to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.
He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology IV to another time—any other time.
"I'll even retake II or III if I have to," he crooned.
I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike towards me.
The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the paper-documents on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note-document in the wire basket, glared at me, and walked out again. Fredward Cullen's back stiffened, as if it could get any stiffer, and he turned slowly to look at me—his face was absurdly handsome—with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me for more than a second. He turned back to the receptionist.
"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like Velveeta. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.
I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip-document.
"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

28

Chapter 1

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