Most people seem to enjoy things like birthdays and gifts."
Alice laughed, and the sound was all silver, a wind chime. "Of course you'll enjoy it. Everyone is
supposed to be nice to you today and give you your way, Bella. What's the worst that could happen?"
She meant it as a rhetorical question.
"Getting older," I answered anyway, and my voice was not as steady as I wanted it to be.
Beside me, Edward's smile tightened into a hard line.
"Eighteen isn't very old," Alice said. "Don't women usually wait till they're twenty-nine to get upset over
birthdays?"
"It's older than Edward," I mumbled.
He sighed.
"Technically," she said, keeping her tone light. "Just by one little year, though."
And I supposed… if I could be sure of the future I wanted, sure that I would get to spend forever with
Edward, and Alice and the rest of the Cullens (preferably not as a wrinkled little old lady)… then a year
or two one direction or the other wouldn't matter to me so much. But Edward was dead set against any
future that changed me. Any future that made me like him—that made me immortal, too.
An impasse, he called it.
I couldn't really see Edward's point, to be honest. What was so great about mortality? Being a vampire
didn't look like such a terrible thing—not the way the Cullens did it, anyway.
"What time will you be at the house?" Alice continued, changing the subject. From her expression, she
was up to exactly the kind of thing I'd been hoping to avoid.
"I didn't know I had plans to be there."
"Oh, be fair, Bella!" she complained. "You aren't going to ruin all our fun like that, are you?"
"I thought my birthday was about what I want."
"I'll get her from Charlie's right after school," Edward told her, ignoring me altogether.
"I have to work," I protested.
"You don't, actually," Alice told me smugly. "I already spoke to Mrs. Newton about it. She's trading your
shifts. She said to tell you 'Happy Birthday.'"
"I—I still can't come over," I stammered, scrambling for an excuse. "I, well, I haven't watched Romeo
and Juliet yet for English."
Alice snorted. "You have Romeo and Juliet memorized."
"But Mr. Berty said we needed to see it performed to fully appreciate it—that's how Shakespeare
intended it to be presented."
Edward rolled his eyes.
"You've already seen the movie," Alice accused.
"But not the nineteen-sixties version. Mr. Berty said it was the best."
Finally, Alice lost the smug smile and glared at me. "This can be easy, or this can be hard, Bella, but one
way or the other—"
Edward interrupted her threat. "Relax, Alice. If Bella wants to watch a movie, then she can. It's her
birthday."
"So there," I added.
"I'll bring her over around seven," he continued. "That will give you more time to set up."
Alice's laughter chimed again. "Sounds good. See you tonight, Bella! It'll be fun, you'll see." She
grinned—the wide smile exposed all her perfect, glistening teeth—then pecked me on the cheek and
danced off toward her first class before I could respond.
"Edward, please—" I started to beg, but he pressed one cool finger to my lips.
"Let's discuss it later. We're going to be late for class."
No one bothered to stare at us as we took our usual seats in the back of the classroom (we had almost
every class together now—it was amazing the favors Edward could get the female administrators to do
for him). Edward and I had been together too long now to be an object of gossip anymore. Even Mike
Newton didn't bother to give me the glum stare that used to make me feel a little guilty. He smiled now
instead, and I was glad he seemed to have accepted that we could only be friends. Mike had changed
over the summer—his face had lost some of the roundness, making his cheekbones more prominent, and
he was wearing his pale blond hair a new way; instead of bristly, it was longer and gelled into a carefully
casual disarray. It was easy to see where his inspiration came from—but Edward's look wasn't
something that could be achieved through imitation.
As the day progressed, I considered ways to get out of whatever was going down at the Cullen house
tonight. It would be bad enough to have to celebrate when I was in the mood to mourn. But, worse than
that, this was sure to involve attention and gifts.
Attention is never a good thing, as any other accident-prone klutz would agree. No one wants a spotlight
when they're likely to fall on their face.
And I'd very pointedly asked—well, ordered really—that no one give me any presents this year. It
looked like Charlie and Renee weren't the only ones who had decided to overlook that.
I'd never had much money, and that had never bothered me. Renee had raised me on a kindergarten
teacher's salary. Charlie wasn't getting rich at his job, either—he was the police chief here in the tiny town
of Forks. My only personal income came from the three days a week I worked at the local sporting
goods store. In a town this small, I was lucky to have a job. Every penny I made went into my
microscopic college fund. (College was Plan B. I was still hoping for Plan A, but Edward was just so
stubborn about leaving me human…)
Edward had a lot of money—I didn't even want to think about how much. Money meant next to nothing
to Edward or the rest of the Cullens. It was just something that accumulated when you had unlimited time
on your hands and a sister who had an uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market. Edward
didn't seem to understand why I objected to him spending money on me—why it made me
uncomfortable if he took me to an expensive restaurant in Seattle, why he wasn't allowed to buy me a car
that could reach speeds over fifty-five miles an hour, or why I wouldn't let him pay my college tuition (he
was ridiculously enthusiastic about Plan B). Edward thought I was being unnecessarily difficult.
But how could I let him give me things when I had nothing to reciprocate with? He, for some
unfathomable reason, wanted to be with me. Anything he gave me on top of that just threw us more out
of balance.
As the day went on, neither Edward nor Alice brought my birthday up again, and I began to relax a little.
We sat at our usual table for lunch.