"I have to go," he said abruptly.
"What?"
"I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
"But Jake -"
He was already gone. I listened to the dial tone with disbelief.
"That was short," I muttered.
"Is everything all right?" Edward asked. His voice was low and careful.
I turned slowly to face him. His expression was perfectly smooth - impossible to read.
"I don't know. I wonder what that was about." It didn't make sense that Jacob had been hounding Charlie all day just to ask me if I was going to school. And if he'd wanted to hear my voice, then why did he hang up so quickly?
"Your guess is probably better than mine," Edward said, the hint of a smiletugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Mmm," I murmured. That was true. I knew Jake inside and out. It shouldn't be that complicated to figure out his motivations.
With my thoughts miles away - about fifteen miles away, up the road to La Push - I started combing through the fridge, assembling ingredients for Charlie's dinner. Edward leaned against the counter, and I was distantly aware that his eyes were on my face, but too preoccupied to worry about what he saw there.
The school thing seemed like the key to me. That was the only real question Jake had asked. And he had to be after an answer to something, or he wouldn't have been bugging Charlie so persistently.
Why would my attendance record matter to him, though?
I tried to think about it in a logical way. So, if I hadn't been going to school tomorrow, what would be the problem with that, from Jacob's perspective? Charlie had given me a little grief about missing a day of school so close to finals, but I'd convinced him that one Friday wasn't going to derail my studies. Jake would hardly care about that.
My brain refused to come up with any brilliant insights. Maybe I was missing some vital piece of information.
What could have changed in the past three days that was so important that Jacob would break his long streak of refusing to answer my phone calls and contact me? What difference could three days make?
I froze in the middle of the kitchen. The package of icy hamburger in my hands slipped through my numb fingers. It took me a slow second to miss the thud it should have made against the floor.
Edward had caught it and thrown it onto the counter. His arms were already around me, his lips at my ear.
"What's wrong?"
I shook my head, dazed.
Three days could change everything.
Hadn't I just been thinking about how impossible college was? How I couldn't be anywhere near people after I'd gone through the painful three-day conversion that would set me free from mortality, so that I could spend eternity with Edward? The conversion that would make me forever a prisoner to my own thirst. . . .
Had Charlie told Billy that I'd vanished for three days? Had Billy jumped to conclusions? Had Jacob really been asking me if I was still human? Making sure that the werewolves' treaty was unbroken - that none of the Cullens had dared to bite a human . . . bite, not kill . . . ?
But did he honestly think I would come home to Charlie if that was the case?
Edward shook me. "Bella?" he asked, truly anxious now.
"I think . . . I think he was checking," I mumbled. "Checking to make sure. That I'm human, I mean."
Edward stiffened, and a low hiss sounded in my ear.
"We'll have to leave," I whispered. "Before. So that it doesn't break the treaty. We won't ever be able to come back."
His arms tightened around me. "I know."
"Ahem." Charlie cleared his voice loudly behind us.
I jumped, and then pulled free of Edward's arms, my face getting hot. Edward leaned back against the counter. His eyes were tight. I could see worry in them, and anger.
"If you don't want to make dinner, I can call for a pizza," Charlie hinted.
"No, that's okay, I'm already started."
"Okay," Charlie said. He propped himself against the doorframe, folding his arms.
I sighed and got to work, trying to ignore my audience.
"If I asked you to do something, would you trust me?" Edward asked, an edge to his soft voice.
We were almost to school. Edward had been relaxed and joking just a moment ago, and now suddenly his hands were clenched tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles straining in an effort not to snap it into pieces.
I stared at his anxious expression - his eyes were far away, like he was listening to distant voices.
My pulse sped in response to his stress, but I answered carefully. "That depends."
We pulled into the school lot.
"I was afraid you would say that."
"What do you want me to do, Edward?"
"I want you to stay in the car." He pulled into his usual spot and turned the engine off as he spoke. "I want you to wait here until I come back for you."
"But . . . why?"
That was when I saw him. He would have been hard to miss, towering over the students the way he did, even if he hadn't been leaning against his black motorcycle, parked illegally on the sidewalk.
"Oh."
Jacob's face was a calm mask that I recognized well. It was the face he used when he was determined to keep his emotions in check, to keep himself under control. It made him look like Sam, the oldest of the wolves, the leader of the Quileute pack. But Jacob could never quite manage the perfect serenity Sam always exuded.
I'd forgotten how much this face bothered me. Though I'd gotten to know Sam pretty well before the Cullens had come back - to like him, even - I'd never been able to completely shake the resentment I felt when Jacob mimicked Sam's expression. It was a stranger's face. He wasn't my Jacob when he wore it.