home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was.
When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven for bakes, covered a steak in marinade, and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.
When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair up into a ponytail, and took out my diary to catalog my day at school, my close encounter with Fredward Cullen's beautiful kin, as well as all the things I had done since I had been home. Then I checked my email for the first time. I had three messages.
"Bella," my mom wrote...

Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom.

I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.
"Bella," she wrote...

Why haven't you emailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom.

The last was from this morning.

34

Chapter 2

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