JК
Breaking Dawn :: Meyer Stephenie
Страница: 79 из 429”
“I didn’t understand anything,” I told him, though it wasn’t entirely true. As if I could discount something because it was a legend. My life was circled by legend on every side. They were all true.
“I packed your toothbrush. I’ll get it for you.”
He walked ahead of me to the bedroom.
“Are we leaving soon?” I called after him.
“As soon as you’re done.”
He waited for my toothbrush to repack it, pacing silently around the bedroom. I handed it to him when I was finished.
“I’ll get the bags into the boat.”
“Edward—”
He turned back. “Yes?”
I hesitated, trying to think of some way to get a few seconds alone. “Could you… pack some of the food? You know, in case I get hungry again.”
“Of course,” he said, his eyes suddenly soft. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll get to Carlisle in just a few hours, really. This will all be over soon.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He turned and left the room, one big suitcase in each hand.
I whirled and scooped up the phone he’d left on the counter. It was very unlike him to forget things—to forget that Gustavo was coming, to leave his phone lying here. He was so stressed he was barely himself.
I flipped it open and scrolled through the preprogrammed numbers. I was glad he had the sound turned off, afraid that he would catch me. Would he be at the boat now? Or back already? Would he hear me from the kitchen if I whispered?
I found the number I wanted, one I had never called before in my life. I pressed the “send” button and crossed my fingers.
“Hello?” the voice like golden wind chimes answered.
“Rosalie?” I whispered. “It’s Bella. Please. You have to help me.
BOOK TWO: JACOB
And yet, to say the truth,
reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
William Shakespeare
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Act III, Scene i
PREFACE
Life sucks, and then you die.
Yeah, I should be so lucky.
8 WAITING FOR THE DAMN FIGHT TO START ALREADY
“Jeez, Paul, don’t you freaking have a home of your own?”
Paul, lounging across my whole couch, watching some stupid baseball game on my crappy TV, just grinned at me and then—real slow—he lifted one Dorito from the bag in his lap and wedged it into his mouth in one piece.
“You better’ve brought those with you.”
Crunch. “Nope,” he said while chewing.
“I didn’t understand anything,” I told him, though it wasn’t entirely true. As if I could discount something because it was a legend. My life was circled by legend on every side. They were all true.
“I packed your toothbrush. I’ll get it for you.”
He walked ahead of me to the bedroom.
“Are we leaving soon?” I called after him.
“As soon as you’re done.”
He waited for my toothbrush to repack it, pacing silently around the bedroom. I handed it to him when I was finished.
“I’ll get the bags into the boat.”
“Edward—”
He turned back. “Yes?”
I hesitated, trying to think of some way to get a few seconds alone. “Could you… pack some of the food? You know, in case I get hungry again.”
“Of course,” he said, his eyes suddenly soft. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll get to Carlisle in just a few hours, really. This will all be over soon.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He turned and left the room, one big suitcase in each hand.
I whirled and scooped up the phone he’d left on the counter. It was very unlike him to forget things—to forget that Gustavo was coming, to leave his phone lying here. He was so stressed he was barely himself.
I flipped it open and scrolled through the preprogrammed numbers. I was glad he had the sound turned off, afraid that he would catch me. Would he be at the boat now? Or back already? Would he hear me from the kitchen if I whispered?
I found the number I wanted, one I had never called before in my life. I pressed the “send” button and crossed my fingers.
“Hello?” the voice like golden wind chimes answered.
“Rosalie?” I whispered. “It’s Bella. Please. You have to help me.
BOOK TWO: JACOB
And yet, to say the truth,
reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
William Shakespeare
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Act III, Scene i
PREFACE
Life sucks, and then you die.
Yeah, I should be so lucky.
8 WAITING FOR THE DAMN FIGHT TO START ALREADY
“Jeez, Paul, don’t you freaking have a home of your own?”
Paul, lounging across my whole couch, watching some stupid baseball game on my crappy TV, just grinned at me and then—real slow—he lifted one Dorito from the bag in his lap and wedged it into his mouth in one piece.
“You better’ve brought those with you.”
Crunch. “Nope,” he said while chewing.