TWILIGHT
By:Stephenie Meyer

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Contents


PREFACE
1. FIRST SIGHT
2. OPEN BOOK
3. PHENOMENON
4. INVITATIONS
5. BLOOD TYPE
6. SCARY STORIES
7. NIGHTMARE
8. PORT ANGELES
9. THEORY
10. INTERROGATIONS
11. COMPLICATIONS
12. BALANCING
13. CONFESSIONS
14. MIND OVER MATTER
15. THE CULLENS
16. CARLISLE
17. THE GAME
18. THE HUNT
19. GOODBYES
20. IMPATIENCE
21. PHONE CALL
22. HIDE-AND-SEEK
23. THE ANGEL
24. AN IMPASSE
EPILOGUE: AN OCCASION


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Text copyright　2005 by Stephenie Meyer

All rights reserved.

Little, Brown and Company

Time Warner Book Group

1271 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

Visit our Web site at www.lb-teens.com

First Edition: September 2005

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not
intended by the author.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data


Meyer, Stephanie, 1973—

Twilight : a novel / by Stephanie Meyer. — 1st ed.

Summary: Grade 9 Up–Headstrong, sun-loving, 17-year-old Bella declines her mom's
invitation to move to Florida, and instead reluctantly opts to move to her dad's cabin in
the dreary, rainy town of Forks, WA. She becomes intrigued with Edward Cullen, a distant,
stylish, and disarmingly handsome senior, who is also a vampire. When he reveals that his
specific clan hunts wildlife instead of humans, Bella deduces that she is safe from his
blood-sucking instincts and therefore free to fall hopelessly in love with him. The
feeling is mutual, and the resulting volatile romance smolders as they attempt to hide
Edward's identity from her family and the rest of the school. Meyer adds an eerie new
twist to the mismatched, star-crossed lovers theme: predator falls for prey, human falls
for vampire. This tension strips away any pretense readers may have about the everyday

teen romance novel, and kissing, touching, and talking take on an entirely new meaning
when one small mistake could be life-threatening. Bella and Edward's struggle to make
their relationship work becomes a struggle for survival, especially when vampires from an
outside clan infiltrate the Cullen territory and head straight for her. As a result, the
novel's danger-factor skyrockets as the excitement of secret love and hushed affection
morphs into a terrifying race to stay alive. Realistic, subtle, succinct, and easy to
follow, Twilight will have readers dying to sink their teeth into it.


1. Vampires — Fiction.
2. High schools — Fiction.
3. Schools — Fiction.
4. Washington (State) — Fiction.

Printed in the United States of America


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For my big sister, Emily,

without whose enthusiasm this story might still be unfinished.

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But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,

thou shalt not eat of it:

for in the day that thou eatest thereof

thou shalt surely die.



Genesis 2:17

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　　献给我的大姐艾米丽，她的热情是促成我完成本书的最大动力。

　　感谢我的双亲，史蒂夫以及凯恩蒂，一生对我的爱与支持，在我年少时为我朗读无数经典名著，在我紧张时永远握住我的手。

　　感谢我的丈夫潘丘，以及我的儿子们，加布、赛斯及艾利，不时和我讨论故事中的虚构人物。

　　感谢作家出版社（Writers House）的朋友们：珍妮佛·盖内霍斯，给我这个新手机会；朱蒂李默，让我最不可能的美梦成真。

　　感谢我的兄弟，保罗及雅各，他们俩的专业为我解答了无数疑问。

　　感谢我的网络家族--fansofrealitytw.com--网站上最有才华的作家，特别是金伯利·沙朗给我的鼓励、忠告和鼓舞。


PREFACE


I'd never given much thought to how I would die — though I'd had reason
enough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not have
imagined it like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of
the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I
loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now.
But, terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision.
When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's
not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.

　　序幕

　　我从未多想我将如何死去，虽然在过去的几个月我有足够的理由去思考这个问题，但是即使我有想过，也从未想到死亡将如此地降临。

　　我屏息静气地望着房间的另一头，远远地凝视着猎人那深邃的眼眸，而他则以愉快的目光回应我。

　　这无疑是一个不错的死法，死在别人--我钟爱的人的家里。甚至可以说轰轰烈烈。这应该算是死得其所。

　　我知道如果我没有来福克斯的话，此刻也就不必面对死亡。但是，尽管我害怕，也不会后悔当初的决定。当生活给了你一个远远超过你期望的美梦，那么当这一切结束时也就没有理由再去伤心。

　　猎人带着友好的微笑，从容不迫地走向我--来了却我的生命。


1. FIRST SIGHT

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was
seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was
wearing my favorite shirt — sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing
it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town
named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on
this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States
of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that
my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in
this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I
was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past
three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two
weeks instead.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action that I took with
great horror. I detested Forks.

I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the
vigorous, sprawling city.

"Bella," my mom said to me — the last of a thousand times — before I got
on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

My mom looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt a
spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave
my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she
had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food
in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got
lost, but still…

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying
this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want —
I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she
was gone.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small
plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks.
Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was
a little worried about.

Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed
genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time
with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high
school and was going to help me get a car.

But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone
would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I
knew he was more than a little confused by my decision — like my mother
before me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen
— just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.

Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too.
Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary
motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was
that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights
on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the
plane.

　1．初见

　　妈妈开车送我去的机场，一路上车窗都敞开着。凤凰城 当天的气温是75华氏度 ，蔚蓝的天空，万里无云。我穿着自己最喜欢的那件无袖网眼白色蕾丝衬衣；我之所以穿这件衬衫，是用它来跟凤凰城作别的。手上还拎着一件派克式外套 。

　　华盛顿州西北的奥林匹克半岛上，有一座名叫福克斯 的小镇，那里几乎常年笼罩着乌云。这个微不足道的小镇上的雨水比美利坚的任何地方都要多。妈妈就是从这个小镇那阴郁而又无处躲藏的阴影之下，带着我逃出来的，当时我才几个月。就是这个小镇，我每年夏天都不得不去呆上一个月，直到我满十四岁。就是在那一年，我终于拿定主意说不肯去；结果最近三个夏天，爸爸查理没办法只好带我去加利福尼亚度假，在那里过上两个星期。

　　我这次自我流放的目的地就是福克斯--采取这次行动令我恐惧不已。 我憎恶福克斯。

　　我喜爱凤凰城。我喜爱阳光，喜爱酷热。我喜欢这座活力四射、杂乱无章、不断扩张的大城市。

　　"贝拉，"上飞机之前，妈妈对我说，这话她已经说了九百九十九遍了，"你没有必要这样做。"

　　我长得像我妈妈，但她头发较短，而且脸上带有笑纹。看着她那双天真烂漫的大眼睛，我涌起一阵心痛。我怎么可以撇下我可爱、古怪、率性的母亲，让她独自一人去生活呢？当然，眼下她有菲尔，账单会有人去付，冰箱里会有吃的，汽车没油了有人去加，迷了路也有人可求，但还是……

　　"我真的想去，"我撒了个谎。我一直都不太会说谎话，不过这个谎话最近一直在说，最后连自己都深信不疑了。

　　"代我向查理问好。"

　　"我会的。"

　　"我很快就会来看你的，"她坚持道，"你想回家的话，随时都可以回--你说一声需要我，我马上就回来。"

　　不过，从她眼中我能看出这样的诺言会让她做出怎样的牺牲。

　　"别为我操心，"我劝她，"一切都会很好的。我爱你，妈妈。"

　　她紧紧地搂了我一会儿，然后等我登上了飞机，她才离开。

　　从凤凰城到西雅图要飞四个小时，然后在西雅图换乘小飞机往北飞一个小时到天使港，再南下开一个小的车就到福克斯了。坐飞机我倒不怕；不过，跟查理在车上相处的那一个小时却令我有些担心。

　　查理对这件事情的态度从头到尾都非常不错。我第一次来跟他一起生活，即使还有些许做秀的成分，但他似乎真的很高兴。他已经为我在高中注册了，还打算帮我弄辆车。

　　但是跟查理在一起肯定会很别扭。我们都不是那种在谁看来都很啰嗦的人，何况，我也不知道有什么好说的。我明白，他被我的决定弄得摸不着头脑了--就像我妈妈在我面前那样，我不喜欢福克斯，这一点我从来都没有掩饰过。

　　飞机在天使港着陆时，天空正在下着雨。我没有把它看作是某种征兆--下雨在福克斯是不可避免的。我已经跟太阳说过再见了。

　　查理开着巡逻车来接我，这也是我预料之中的事。查理·斯旺是福克斯善良人民的斯旺警长。我尽管手头不宽裕，但还是想买辆车，主要就是因为我不想让一辆顶上有红蓝灯的警车拉着我满街跑。交通不畅，警察的功劳谁都望尘莫及。

　　我晃晃悠悠地下了飞机以后，查理笨拙地用单手拥抱了我一下。

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically
caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call
him Charlie to his face.

I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for
Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter
wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of
the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were
strapped in.

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good car for
you" as opposed to just "good car."

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian
reservation on the coast.

"No."

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.

That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking
painful, unnecessary things from my memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so
he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this
was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years
old, really."

I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up
that easily. "When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at
the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch — Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to
fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic…"

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that
anymore."

The thing, I thought to myself… it had possibilities — as a nickname, at
the very least.

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise
on.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift."
Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the
road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his
emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight
ahead as I responded.

　"见到你很高兴，贝尔，"他不假思索地伸手稳住了我，笑着说，"你变化不大嘛。蕾妮好吗？"

　　"妈妈还好。见到你我也很高兴，爸爸。"他们不让我当着他的面直呼其名，叫他查理。

　　我只有几个袋子。我在亚利桑那州穿的衣服，对于华盛顿州来说大都太不挡雨了。我和妈妈已经把我们的钱凑起来，给我新添了冬天穿的衣服了，但还是没多少。巡逻车的后备箱轻轻松松就全装下了。

　　"我弄到了一辆适合你开的好车，真的很便宜，"我们系好安全带后，他说。

　　"什么样的车？"他放着简简单单的"好车"不说，偏说"适合你开的好车"，这让我起了疑心。

　　"噢，实际上是一辆卡车，一辆雪佛兰。"

　　"在哪儿弄的？"

　　"你记不记得住在拉普什 的比利·布莱克？"拉普什是太平洋岸边的一个很小的印第安人保留区。

　　"不记得了。"

　　"以前夏天他常常跟我们一块儿去钓鱼，"查理提示道。

　　难怪我不记得了。不让痛苦、多余的东西进入我的记忆，是我的拿手好戏。

　　"现在他坐轮椅了，"见我没反应，查理继续说道，"所以开不了车了，他主动提出来要便宜卖给我。"

　　"哪年的车？"从他脸上表情的变化，我看得出这是个他不希望我问的问题。

　　"哦，比利已经在发动机上下了大力气了--才几年的车，真的。"

　　我希望他别太小瞧我了，以为我这么轻易就可以打发："他什么时候买的？"

　　"1984年买的，我想是。"

　　"他是买的新车吗？"

　　"哦，不是新车。我想是65年以前的新车--最早也是55年以后的，"他不好意思地承认道。

　　"查--爸爸，车我可真是一窍不通哟。要是出了什么毛病，我自己可不会修，请人修吧，我又请不起。……"

　　"真的，贝拉，那家伙棒着呢。现在再也没人能生产这样的车了。"

　　那家伙，我思忖道 ……可能有好几种意思--最起码，也是个绰号。

　　"多便宜算便宜啊？"说到底，这才是我不能妥协的地方。

　　"噢，宝贝，可以说我已经给你买下了。作为欢迎你回家的礼物。"查理满怀希望地从眼角偷偷瞥了我一眼。

　　哈,免费.

　　"您不必这样破费的，爸爸。我本打算自己买一辆的。"

　　"我不介意。我想让你在这儿过得高兴。"说这话的时候，他两眼盯着前面的路。查理不习惯大声表达自己的感情。在这点上，我完全继承了他。所以我回话的时候，也是两眼盯着正前方。

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add
that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to
suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth — or
engine.

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that
was pretty much it for Conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green:
the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a
canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down
greenly through the leaves.

It was too green — an alien planet.

Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small,
two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of
their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the
early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never
changed, was my new — well, new to me — truck. It was a faded red color,
with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I
loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it.
Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged —
the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched,
surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just
that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either
walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the
Chief's cruiser.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.

It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west
bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had
been belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue
walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window —
these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever
made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The
desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem
stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation
from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair
from my baby days was still in the corner.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would
have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that
fact.
　"那样真的太好了，爸爸。谢谢啦。我真的很感激。"没有必要再来一句：我在福克斯会感到高兴那是不可能的事情。他不必跟我一起遭罪。再说，馈赠之马莫看牙--我这白捡的卡车又哪能嫌它的发动机差呢？

　　"好啦，不必客气了，"他喃喃道，他让我谢得不好意思了。

　　我们聊了聊潮湿的天气，这可不是什么可以让人聊个没完的话题。接着，我们默默地看着窗外。

　　风景当然很漂亮，这一点我不能否认。放眼望去，满眼皆绿：树是绿色的，树干上的苔藓是绿色的，树枝上浓密的树叶是绿色的，地上的蕨类植物也是绿色的。就连从树叶之间滤下的空气，也都染上了一层绿意。

　　太绿了--简直是另外一个星球。

　　终于，我们到了查理的家。他还住在那套两居的小房子里，是他跟我妈妈在结婚之初买下来的。他们的婚姻也就仅有那么一段日子--新婚燕尔的那几天。在他那一切如昨的房子前面，停着我的新卡车，对了，应该说是对我而言的新卡车。褪了色的红色，圆圆大大的挡泥板，还有一个灯泡形状的驾驶室。大出我意料的是，我竟然很喜欢它。我不知道它开不开得走，但我能从它的身上看到我自己的影子。而且，它是那种结结实实，永远也坏不了的铁疙瘩，就是你在车祸现场看到的那种结实玩意儿：自己身上漆都没蹭掉一点儿，而周围却一片狼藉，全是毁在它手下的外国汽车的碎块儿。

　　"哇，谢谢爸爸，我非常喜欢它！"现在看来，我明天面临的恐怖会大大地减轻了，用不着在冒雨徒步走两英里去上学和同意搭警长的巡逻车这两者中做选择了。

　　"我很高兴你那么喜欢它。"查理生硬地说道，又不好意思了。

　　只用一趟，我所有的东西就全搬到楼上去了。我住西边面向前院的那间卧室，这间屋子我很熟悉；我一生下来它就归了我。现代化的地板，深红色的墙壁，尖顶型的天花板，镶黑边的窗帘，这些都是我童年的一部分。查理惟一变了变的，就是随着我慢慢长大，把婴儿床换成了一般的床，添了一张写字台。现在这张写字台上有了一台二手电脑，外带一根连着调制解调器的电话线，电话线是顺着地板走的，另一头插在离得最近的电话插孔里。这是妈妈提出来的一个要求，这样，我们联系起来就比较容易了。我儿时的那把摇椅还放在那个角落里。

　　只有楼梯顶上惟一一个小浴室，我只好跟查理共用了。我尽量别让自己老惦记着这事。

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me
alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether
impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile
and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the
sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go
on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to
think about the coming morning.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and
fifty-seven — now fifty-eight — students; there were more than seven
hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here
had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together.

I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to

my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan,
sporty, blond — a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps — all the
things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red
hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft
somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye
coordination to play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both
myself and anyone else who stood too close.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag
of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself
up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I
brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but
already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty — it was
very clear, almost translucent-looking — but it all depended on color. I
had no color here.

Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I
was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And
if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what
were my chances here?

I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't
relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than
anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly
the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things
through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs.
Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All
that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The
constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade
into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later
added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight,
when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.
　查理最大的优点之一就是爽快。他让我自己整理行李，这要是换了我母亲，是万万不可能的事情。一个人袋着真好，不必面露微笑让自己看起来很愉快；沮丧地凝视着窗外如注的大雨，掉几滴眼泪是一种解脱。我没有痛痛快快大哭一场的心境，我会把它留到睡觉的时候，因为那个时候，我将不得不想一想来日的早上。

　　福克斯高中部总共仅有357个--当然，现在是358个学生，这实在令人吃惊；而我家那里仅初中部就超过700人，这里所有的孩子都是一起长大的--他们的爷爷奶奶在蹒跚学步的时候就在一起。我将成为从大城市新来的女孩，一个稀奇罕见、行为怪异的另类。

　　或许，要是我有一副凤凰城女孩子应有的模样，我可以将它变成我的优势。可身体不争气，我到哪儿都不适应。按说我应该是晒得黑黑的，像运动员，比方说，排球运动员啦，啦啦队长什么的，或许应该具有与住在阳光之谷的人相称的所有特点。

　　恰恰相反，我看上去皮肤苍白,甚至不是因为蓝眼睛或红头发之类的反衬，尽管天天在晒太阳。我虽然一直很苗条，但不知怎么搞的，老是松松垮垮的，一看就不是运动员；我手眼的协调性很差，做运动时很难不出洋相，不伤到自己和站得离自己太近的人。

　　把衣服放进了我那口破旧的松木穿衣柜后，我拿起我的那袋浴室用品，去了那间公共浴室，洗去了这一天旅行下来的风尘。梳理那头缠结在一起的湿漉漉的头发时，我照了照镜子。也许是因为光线的缘故，我看上去已经越发发灰发黄、有点不健康了。我的皮肤本来可以很漂亮的--非常亮，几乎透明--只可惜它的颜色发暗了。我到了这里变得黯然无色了。

　　面对镜子里苍白的自己，我不得不承认是在欺骗自己。我到哪儿都不适应的，不单单是身体方面。如果我在3000人的学校里都找不到一个容身之所，那么在这里又能有什么机会呢？

　　我跟自己的同龄人相处不好。或许，事实是我跟谁都相处不好，就这么回事。就连我妈妈，这个世界上比谁都亲的人，都没有跟我融洽过一回，从来都没有意见完全一致过。有时候，我在想我眼里所看到的和世上所有其他人眼里看到的是不是同样的东西。也许，我脑袋里哪里短路。

　　不过原因并不重要，重要的是结果。明天不过是刚刚开始。

　　那天晚上我没睡好，就连哭完之后也没睡好。房顶上扫过的风雨声，嗖嗖地一阵紧似一阵，根本就没有减弱成背景音的意思。我把褪了色的旧棉被拽上来蒙住了脑袋，后来又在上面加了个枕头。可我还是直到后半夜，等雨好不容易减弱成了毛毛小雨时才入睡。

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could
feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky
here; it was like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at
school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to
avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife
and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of
the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark
paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing
was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an
attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace
in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures.
First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of
the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful
nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last
year's. Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I
could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was
living here.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had
never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house
anymore. I donned my jacket — which had the feel of a biohazard suit —
and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as
I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the
door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was
unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't
pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out
of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had
obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled
faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly,
to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume.
Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio
worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before.
The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not
obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the
Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching
houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and
shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the
institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences,
the metal detectors?
　早上醒来，睁眼一看，窗外除了浓雾还是浓雾，我能感觉到幽闭恐怖症正在向我慢慢袭来。在这里，你根本就看不到天空；就像一个笼子一样。

　　与查理共进早餐是一件静静悄悄的事。他祝我上学好运，我谢了他，知道他祝了也是徒劳。好运总是会躲着我。查理先出了门，去了警察局，那里才像是他的家。等他走了之后，我在破旧的橡木方桌边上坐下，坐在三把不配套的椅子中的一把上，端详起查理的小厨房来：墙上嵌着深色的护墙板，有几个鲜黄色的橱柜，地上铺着白色的油毡。什么都没有变。橱柜上的漆是我母亲18年前刷的，她想给房子里面引点儿阳光进来。隔壁巴掌大的家庭娱乐室的壁炉上方挂着一排照片，第一张是查理和我妈妈在拉斯维加斯的结婚照，然后一张是我出生后我们一家三口在医院的合影，是一个乐于助人的护士帮忙照的，接着的一连串全都是我在学校里的照片了，最晚的一张是去年才照的。这些照片可寒碜了--我得想想办法，看怎么能够让查理把它们挪到别的地方去，起码我住在这里的时候不能挂着。

　　在这栋房子里，谁都不可能看不出查理从来都没有真正把我妈妈忘掉过。这令我很不自在。

　　我不想太早去上学，可我没办法在这个房子里多呆了。我穿上了外套--给人的感觉有点儿防毒服的味道--一头冲进了雨里。

　　仅仅是还在下着一点儿毛毛小雨，我取下钥匙再把门锁上这么短时间，是淋不透我的。房子的钥匙一直藏在门边的屋檐下面。我的新防水靴溅起的泥水很恼人，听不见一般情形下脚底砾石发出的嘎吱嘎吱声。我不能像心里希望的那样，停下来欣赏欣赏我的卡车。我着急着呢，恨不能赶紧从这盘绕在我脑袋周围，缠住帽兜下面的头发不放的雾霭中摆脱出来。

　　卡车里面倒是很干爽。显然，不是比利，就是查理，已经把车清洁过了，不过装了软垫的皮座椅还是能闻到些许的烟草、汽油和薄荷油的味道。令我感到安慰的是，发动机一打就着，不过声音很大，刚发动时突突作响，空转时更是达到了最大音量。嗨，这么老的一辆车肯定有一两处缺陷的。嘿，那老掉牙的收音机还响呢，这可是一笔意外收获呀。

　　找到学校没费什么事，虽然我以前从未去过。学校和许多其他建筑一样，就在公路边上。它不太看得出来是所学校；幸好看见了那块上面写着福克斯中学的牌子，我才停下来。它看上去就像一溜用栗色砖修建的配套用房。这里有许多树和灌木，一开始我没能看清学校的规模。这哪里有什么教育机构的感觉?我感觉倒是很怀旧。铁丝网栅栏在哪儿？还有金属探测器呢？

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the
door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it
was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of
circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of
the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark
hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was
small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked
commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock
ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there
wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long
counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored
flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one
of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was
wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness
light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of
the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of
documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I
have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought
several sheets to the counter to show roe.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each
on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to
bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like
Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as
convincingly as I could.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive.
I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to
see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home
I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included
in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new
Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny
Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a
spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

　我把车停在了第一栋楼前，楼上挂着一块小牌子，上面写有"行政办公室"字样。不见有别人把车停在这里，所以我断定这里肯定是不让停车的，不过我还是决定去问问路，而不要像个白痴似地在雨中绕圈子。我不情愿地从舒适温暖的驾驶室出来，上了一条有深色栅栏的小石路。开门之前，我深吸了一口气。

　　里面灯火通明，而且比我想象得要暖和。办公室很小；有一个小小的接待区，放置着一些带衬垫的可折叠椅子，地上铺着橘色斑点的商务地毯，布告和奖彰混乱地贴在墙上，一个大立钟发出清晰而响亮的滴答声，在大塑料罐子里的盆景生长得异常茂盛，好像这里户外缺乏植被似的所以它们才在这里长得到处都是。这个房间被一个长柜台分割成两部分，柜台前凌乱地放着装满了纸张的金属网篓，台子的前面板上用胶带胡乱地贴着色彩明亮的广告传单。台子后面有三张办公桌，其中一张被一个大个子的，红发戴眼镜的女性所占据。她穿着一件紫色的体恤衫），这件体恤衫让我立刻觉得自己穿得太多了。

　　她抬头看着我："你有事吗？"

　　"我是伊萨贝拉·斯旺，"我通报了姓名，看见她的眼中立即闪过明白了的眼神，我料想,无疑我已经成为了这个小镇上闲聊时的话题，警长轻浮的前妻的闺女，终于回家来了。

　　"当然，"她说道，她在自己办公桌上一堆早就有所准备的文件中翻了半天，才翻到了要找的那几份，"我这就把你的课程表给你，还有一张校园的地图。"她把好几张纸拿到台子上给我看。

　　她帮我仔细检查了一下我的课程，在校园地图上把上每一节课的最佳路线都一一标了出来，然后给了我一张纸片让每个老师签字，要我在放学前再把签过字的纸片交回来。就像查理一样，她冲我笑了笑并希望我喜欢福克斯。我也冲她笑了笑，而且尽了最大的努力，让她相信我的微笑不是装出来的。

　　我出来朝车边走去时，别的学生开始到校了。我开车沿交通线绕学校转了一圈。我高兴地看到大多数的车都跟我的车一样破，一点儿不浮华。在凤凰城，我住在为数不多的几个低收入的居民区中的一个居民区里，而这些居民区都隶属于天堂谷行政区管辖。在学生停车区，看见一辆新梅塞德斯或者保时捷是很寻常的事情。这里最好的车是一辆亮闪闪的沃尔沃，鹤立鸡群。不过，一到停车位我还是马上就把火熄了，省得它那雷鸣般的声音把注意力吸引到我身上来。

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I
wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I
stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and
sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one
was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk,
crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed
with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large
black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my
breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the
door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats
through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside
the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them.
They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale,
with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a
nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my
name — not an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red.
But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing
me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in
the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading
list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare,
Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and
boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if
she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments
with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin
problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk
to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful,
chess club type.

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look
at me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building
six."
　我在车里看了看校园地图，想当时在车上就能把它记住；这样的话，就有希望不需要一天到晚走到哪里，都得把它贴在鼻子前面了。我把所有的东西塞进了书包，将书包带子挎在了肩上，吸了一大口气。我可以搞定，我底气不足地对自己撒了个谎，没有人会把我吃了。最后，我深呼一口气从车里走了出来。

　　我往人行道那边走去的时候，脸一直缩在帽兜里面。人行道上挤满了十几岁的孩子。我朴素的黑夹克并不显眼,降低了我受到关注的可能。

　　一到自助餐厅，3号楼一眼就可以看到了。东边的角上有一个白色的方块，方块上用黑漆写着偌大的一个"3"字。快到门口时，我觉得自己的呼吸渐渐有点急促了。我跟在两个穿着男女皆宜的雨披的学生后面走进教室时)，我尽力屏住了呼吸。

　　教室不大。我前面的那两个人一跨过门就停了下来，把雨衣挂在了一长排钩子上。我也跟着她们那样做了。那是两个女孩子，一个是棕红皮肤、金发碧眼，另一个皮肤也很苍白，一头闪亮的褐发。起码，我的皮肤不会很显眼了。

　　我把纸片拿上去交给了老师，一个高个子、秃顶的男老师，他在讲台上放了一张名牌，写明自己是梅森先生。看到我的名字后，他呆呆地看着我--不是什么鼓励的反应--我自然刷地一下子红了脸，红得跟番茄似的。不过至少，他没有把我介绍给全班同学，直接把我打发到后面的一张空着的课桌上去了。坐在后面，增大了我的这班新同学盯着我看的难度， 但是无论如何他们还是做到了。我一直低着头，看着老师发给我的阅读书目清单，都是相当基础的：勃朗特、莎士比亚、乔叟、福克纳。我全都读过了。这很令我欣慰……同时又让我觉得厌烦无聊。我不知道我妈妈会不会把我原来写的那一夹子论文给我寄过来，或者说不知道她会不会认为那是作弊。老师嗡嗡嗡地讲他的课时，我在脑子里跟我妈妈进行了各种各样的争论。

　　下课铃响了--发出一阵刺耳的嗡嗡声，一个瘦长瘦长有皮肤病、头发黑得跟抹了发油似的男生从过道的另一边倾过身来对我说。

　　"你是伊萨贝拉·斯旺，对吧？"他看上去像那种过分热情、像那种典型的象棋俱乐部的人。

　　"贝拉，"我纠正道。距我只有三张课桌之遥的同学，全都扭头看了我一眼。

　　"你下一节课在哪儿上？"他问。

　　我不得不在书包里查对了一下："嗯，政府课，有关杰弗逊政府的，在6号楼。"

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely
over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I
could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to
eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"My mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds
and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how
to use sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym.
Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have
some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry
teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the
subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the
class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own
boots on the way to my seat.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each
class. There was always someone braver than the others who would
introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I
tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never
needed the map.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me
to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my
five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of
the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I
smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't
try to keep up.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she
introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them.
They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from
English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.
　往哪个方向看，都避不开好奇的眼神。

　　"我去4号楼，可以告诉你怎么走。……"确实是过分热情，"我是埃里克，"他补充道。

　　我很勉强地笑了笑："谢谢。"

　　我们取了上衣，出来走进了雨中，外面早就又下起来了。我可以肯定，我们后面有好几个人跟得非常近，可以偷听到我们说的话。我希望自己不是在犯多疑症。

　　"这么说，这儿跟凤凰城很不一样喽？"他问。

　　"非常不一样。"

　　"那儿不怎么下雨，是不是？"

　　"一年三四次。"

　　"哇塞，那会是个什么样子？"他感到很惊讶。

　　"阳光灿烂，"我告诉他。

　　"可你晒得也不怎么黑呀？"

　　"我母亲是半个白化病患者。"

　　他担心地审视了下我的脸，我叹了一口气。乌云跟幽默感似乎不相溶。几个月下来，我已经不会说挖苦话了。

　　我们绕着自助餐厅往回走，去往南边体育馆边上的教学楼。埃里克把我一直送到门口，尽管楼号标得清清楚楚。

　　"好了，祝你好运，"我拉把手的时候他说，"说不定我们还会一起上别的课。"他说得满怀期待。

　　我给了他一个生硬的微笑，进了楼门。

　　这天上午余下的时间，基本上都是这样过去的。教我们三角的老师是瓦纳先生，不说别的，就因为他教的这门课，我无论如何都会很讨厌他的，他也是唯一一个要我站到全班面前做自我介绍的老师。我说话结结巴巴的，脸也红了，而且回到座位上去的时候还让自己的靴子给绊了一下。

　　两节课下来，每个班上我都已经认得好几张面孔了。总有某个胆子比其他同学都大一点的同学，会向我做自我介绍，问我喜不喜欢福克斯。我试图回答得很圆滑，但绝大多数时候我不过是说了一大堆谎话。起码，我从来就没需要过那张校园地图。

　　有一个女同学上三角和西班牙语这两门课都坐在我的旁边，她还和我一起去自助餐厅吃午饭。她个头很小，比我五英尺四的个头儿要矮好几英寸，但她那一头乱蓬蓬的鬈发把我们在身高上的差距缩小了不少。我记不住她的名字，所以她唧唧喳喳地谈论老师和同学时，我都会微笑和点头。我并不想听下去。

　　我们和她的几个朋友坐在一起，我和她坐在桌子的一头，她把这几个朋友都介绍给了我。他们的名字，她说完了我也就全忘了。他们似乎很钦佩她跟我说话的勇气。英语课上的那个男同学埃里克，在餐厅的另一头冲我挥了挥手。

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with
seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where
I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't
talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of
untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most
of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of
meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these
things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big — muscled
like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller,
leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less
bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the
others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here
rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a
beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated
swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on
her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden,
gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike,
thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black,
cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale,
the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than
me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair
tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruiselike
shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost
done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their
features, were straight, perfect, angular.

But all this is not why I couldn't look away.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all
devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to
see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or
painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide
who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the
bronze-haired boy.

They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other

students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I
watched, the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten
apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a
runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her
tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought
possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.
　就是在那里，我坐在餐厅吃午饭，试图跟七个好奇的不认识的同学聊天的时候，我第一次见到了他们。

　　他们坐在自助餐厅的一个角落里，在这间长长的屋子里距我坐的位置最远的地方。他们一共5个人。他们没有说话，也没有吃东西，不过他们每人面前都有一盘没有动过的饭菜。他们没有呆呆地看着我，不像绝大多数别的同学那样，所以，盯着他们看很安全，无须担心和那些非常好奇的眼神接触。但吸引了我注意的并不是这些，我开始留意他们。

　　他们丝毫没有相似之处。三个男孩子中，有一个块头很大，肌肉看上去像一个结结实实的举重运动员，一头黑色的鬈发。另外一个高一些，瘦一些，但也很强壮，一头绝妙的金发。最后一个瘦长瘦长的，块头小一些，一头不整洁的古铜色头发。他的男孩子气比另两个更重一些，而另两个看上去像大学生，甚至像这里的老师而不是学生。

　　两个女孩子截然相反。个头高的那一个体型犹如雕像般的匀称。她身材优美，就像《体育画报》泳装专刊封面上的那种，就像每个女孩子只要跟她袋在同一间屋子里自尊心就会备受打击的那种。她有一头金色的齐腰长发，飘逸地披在背后。矮个子女孩则像个小精灵，奇瘦，五官很小。她留着一头深黑色修剪得参差不齐的短发，指着每一个方向。

　　可是，他们又都有完全相似之处。他们每个人的皮肤都有一种近似病态的苍白，天底下所有的学生中最苍白的都生活在这个没有阳光的小镇。比我这个白化病患者还要苍白。尽管他们头发的色阶范围不一,可他们都有如同黑曜石般的眼眸,并且在他们的眼睛下都有深暗的阴影--瘀伤那样的紫色，好像都失眠了一宿似的，或者好像鼻子尚未痊愈似的。尽管他们的鼻子，也是他们的共同特征之一，全都是直直的无可挑剔的尖鼻子。

　　但所有这一切都不是我不能把目光移开的原因。

　　我之所以盯着他们瞧，是因为他们如此不同、又如此相似的脸都美极了，美到了人间不觅的程度。这是一些或许只有在时装杂志的喷绘页上才有希望看到的脸。或者说是技术娴熟的画家描绘出的天使的脸。很难说谁最美--也许是那个无可挑剔的金发女孩儿，或者是那个古铜色头发的男孩子。

　　他们全都望着一边--没有看着对方，没有看着其他的同学，也没有看着我所知道的任何某样特别的东西。我注意到，小个子女孩端着盘子站起来了--苏打水原封未动，苹果一口没咬--用一种轻灵而优雅的，仅属于T型台走秀的步伐，大步走开了。我吃惊地看着她那柔软灵活的舞步，直到她把自己的盘子倒掉，然后悄悄地从后门溜了出去，速度快得超出了我的想象。我把目光迅速移回到了其余的几个身上，他们仍坐在那里，没有丝毫改变。

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd
forgotten.

As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably,
from my tone — suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish
one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction
of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of
embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance,
his face held nothing of interest — it was as if she had called his name,
and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to
answer.

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one
who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his
wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now,
picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving
very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still
looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had.
But maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finally remembered
that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were
two girls named Jessica in my History class back home.

"They are… very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous
understatement.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though —
Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live
together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small
town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit
that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early
thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins —
the blondes — and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been
with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something
like that."
　"他们是谁？"我问西班牙语课上的那个女孩儿，她的名字我记不起来了。

　　她抬起头来，想看看我所说的他们是谁--尽管可能早就从我的语气中听出来了--突然那个瘦一点儿的，孩子气重点儿的，可能也是他们中最小的那一个男孩转过来看着她。但他的视线只在她身上停留了不到一秒，然后他的黑眼睛就闪向了我。

　　他迅速把视线移开了，比我还要快，虽然我窘得立即低下了头。那匆匆的一瞥，他脸上没有任何感兴趣的表情--就仿佛她叫了他的名字，他本能地抬了一下头，心里早就决定了不理睬一样。

　　我旁边的女孩不好意思得咯咯直笑，和我一样看着桌子。

　　"那是爱德华·卡伦和埃美特·卡伦兄弟俩跟罗莎莉·黑尔和贾斯帕·黑尔姐弟俩。走了的那个是爱丽丝·卡伦；他们全都跟卡伦大夫夫妇住在一起。"她低声地说到。

　　我用眼角匆匆瞥了那个漂亮的男孩子一眼，只见他正看着盘子，用他白皙而修长的手指把面包圈撕成小块扔进嘴里。他的嘴动得非常快，两片完美的嘴唇之间仅仅露着一条缝。其余的三个依然望着一边，不过我感觉到他在悄悄地跟他们说着什么。

　　古怪的，少见的名字，我寻思着。爷爷奶奶们才用这种名字呀。不过，也许是这儿时兴呢--小镇上的名字？我终于想起来了，我旁边的女孩叫杰西卡，一个非常普通的名字。我家那边，历史课班上就有两个叫杰西卡的女孩。

　　"他们……长得很好看呢。"我努力用明显轻描淡写的语气掩饰自己心中的惊叹。

　　"对！"杰西卡又咯咯地笑起来表示认同，"只是，他们全都在一起--我是指，埃美特和罗莎莉，还有贾斯帕和爱丽丝。而且，他们还住在一起。"我苛刻地想，她的语调包含了小镇上所有人对此表示震惊和指责的心声。不过实话实说，我不得不承认，这样的事，就是放到凤凰城，也会引起风言风语的。

　　"哪几个是卡伦家的孩子？"我问，"他们看上去不像有血缘关系……"

　　"噢，他们不是卡伦家的孩子。卡伦大夫其实很年轻，才二十几岁或者三十出头。他们都是收养的。姓黑尔的两个是姐弟俩，双胞胎--金发的那两个--他们是领养的孩子。"

　　"作为领养的孩子，他们年龄偏大了一点吧。"

　　"他俩现在，贾斯帕和罗莎莉都是十八，可他俩八岁就跟卡伦太太在一起了。她是他俩的姑姑之类的。"

"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of all those kids
like that, when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that
she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances
she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason
was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she
added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to
the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the
walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed
them on one of my summers here.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a
new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere
in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they
were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the
only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any
standard.

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met
my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked
swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet
expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at
him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not
gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated
expression. I looked down again.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He
doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough
for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd
turned her down.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was
turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were
smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They
all were noticeably graceful — even the big, brawny one. It was
unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have
if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my
first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me
that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked
to class together in silence. She was shy, too.

　"他们真是心地善良的好人，这么年轻，就照看这么多的孩子。"

　　"我想也是，"杰西卡的回答有些勉强，而且我得出了这么个印象，觉得她出于某种原因，不太喜欢那个大夫和他妻子。从她看他们收养的那些孩子的眼神中，我推测这个原因就是嫉妒。"不过，我认为卡伦太太生不了孩子。"她补了一句，仿佛这样可以让他们的善良打点儿折扣似的。

　　整个交谈过程中，我不止一次地把目光移向那素昧平生的一家人坐的那张桌子。他们依然望着四壁，没有吃东西。

　　"他们一直住在福克斯吗？"我问。无疑当我在这里度过某个夏天的时候，我就应该注意到他们了。

　　"不，"她说，听她的语气，好像含有一种即使对我这样初来乍到的人来说，答案也是明摆着的意思，"他们是两年前才从阿拉斯加的某个地方搬来的。"

　　我顿时涌起了一阵同情，也感到了一丝慰藉。同情，是因为尽管他们貌若天仙，却是外地来的，显然没有为当地人接纳。慰藉，是因为我不是这儿惟一新来的，而且无论按什么标准，我无疑也不是最令人关注的对象。

　　我打量他们的时候，最小的那个，卡伦兄妹中的一个，抬头和我的目光不期而遇，这一次，他的表情里充满了明显的好奇。我赶紧把目光移开了，在我看来，他的眼神里似乎有着某种未能得到满足的期待。

　　"红褐色头发的那个男孩子是谁？"我问。我拿眼角的余光瞟了他一眼，他还在盯着我看，但不是像今天其余的同学那样呆呆地看--他带着一丝灰心的表情。我再次低下了头。

　　"他是爱德华。当然啦他绝对英俊潇洒，不过你可别浪费自己的时间。他不会跟人约会的。显然，这里的女孩子没有一个漂亮得能配得上他的。"她轻蔑地说道，明摆着是吃不到葡萄说葡萄酸。我想知道他是什么时候拒绝了她的。

　　我咬住嘴唇，藏起了微笑。然后，我又瞥了他一眼。他已经转过了脸，不过我觉得他的面颊好像上扬了一些，好象他也在微笑。

　　又过了几分钟，他们四个一起离开了桌子。他们个个都是那样风度翩翩，引人瞩目--就连那个块头很大、肌肉发达的也不例外。看一看就令人心神不宁。那个叫爱德华的再也没有看我一眼。

　　我跟杰西卡和她的那些朋友在饭桌上坐了很久，我一个人是坐不了这么久的。我开始担心别在我来学校的第一天就上课迟到。一个我新认识的同学，这个同学很体贴周到，怕我没记住，又告诉了我一遍她叫安吉拉，接下来的一节生物学（2）跟我同班。我们一起走着去上课，路上没有说话。她也很腼腆。

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab
table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In
fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I
recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single
open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my
slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he
suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes
with the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I
looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in
the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl
sitting there giggled.

I'd noticed that his eyes were black — coal black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about
introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had
no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room.
I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the
antagonistic stare he'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I
saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away
from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face
like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It
smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an
innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a
dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already
studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my
hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never
relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from
me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a
fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never
relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his
elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his
light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly
brother.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the
day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight
fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like
he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal
behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch
today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.
　进了教室后，安吉拉坐到了一张黑漆桌面的实验桌上，实验桌和我以前坐过的那些一模一样。她旁边已经有人了。实际上，所有的桌子都座无虚席了，就剩一张还有个空儿，紧挨着中间的过道，我认出了坐在那惟一的空座边上的是爱德华·卡伦，因为他的头发与众不同。

　　顺着过道去跟老师做自我介绍并让老师在我的纸片上签名的时候，我一直在偷偷地注视着他。就在我从他身边经过时，他突然僵硬在那里一动不动。他又盯了我一眼，与我的眼神碰到一起时，露出我所见过最古怪的表情--敌意加狂暴。我将目光迅速移开了，心里非常震惊，脸又一下子红了。我让走道上的一本书给绊了一下，害得我挂在了一张桌子的边上。坐在那张桌上的女生咯咯直笑。

　　我注意到他的眼睛很黑--煤炭一般的黑。

　　班纳先生在我的纸片上签了名，给我发了一本书，没说介绍之类的废话。我可以断定我们会合得来的。当然了，他别无选择，只能让我坐到教室中间的那个空座上去。我坐到他旁边去的时候，始终都垂着眼睛，他刚才那充满敌意的凝视让我很不知所措。

　　把书放到桌上然后就座的时候，我没有抬眼，但我眼角的余光还是看到了他姿势的变化。他倾向远离我的那一侧，坐到了椅子的最边缘，脸也扭到了另一边。好像闻到了什么难闻的气味。我偷偷地闻了闻自己的头发。我的头发散发着草莓般的味道，是我最喜欢的香波的气味。完全不像是什么难闻的味道呀。我让头发自右肩垂下，在我俩之间形成了一挂黑色的帘子，然后试图注意听老师讲课。

　　不幸的是，课讲的是细胞解剖，我已经学过的东西。不管怎样，我还是认真地做了笔记，始终低着头。

　　我忍不住偶尔透过那层我用头发做的帘子，偷看我旁边那个奇怪的男孩子一眼。那堂课自始至终，他那僵硬的姿势一刻都没有松弛下来过，坐在椅子边上，能离我多远就坐多远。我可以看到他左腿上的那只手紧紧地攥成了拳头，他的肌腱绷在苍白的皮肤下清晰可见，他一直保持着肌肉紧绷的状态，从未放松下来。他把白衬衫长长的袖子卷到了胳膊肘，他手臂的皮肤光洁细腻，肌肉却惊人的结实强健。他远非坐在他高大结实的哥哥旁边时看上去那样的瘦弱。

　　这节课好像比别的课拖的时间都长。是因为这一天终于快熬出头了的缘故呢，还是因为我在等他那紧攥的拳头放松下来的缘故呢？他的拳头始终没放松下来；他依旧静静地坐着，静得好像他根本没有呼吸似的。他是不是有什么地方不对劲啦？他平时都是这样吗？我对自己今天吃午饭时杰西卡的那番刻薄话的判断产生了怀疑。说不定她不像我想象的那样喜欢怨恨别人。

It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down
at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from
him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly
ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen
was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than I'd
thought — his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was
out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It
wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the
anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my
temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry,
a humiliating tendency.

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully
gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously
didn't think I smelled bad.

"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that
big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the
conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he
was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my
English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward
Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently,
that wasn't Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.

"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the
dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked
to you."

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He
was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my
irritation.

　这和我不可能有任何关系呀。之前他根本就不认识我。

　　我又抬头偷看了他一眼，马上就后悔了。没想到他又在瞪着我，两只黑色的眼睛里都充满了厌恶。我迅速把目光从他身上移开，吓得我胆怯地靠在椅背上。这时，我脑子里突然掠过了要是目光能杀人这句话。

　　正在这时，铃声大作，把我吓得跳了起来，爱德华·卡伦已经离开了椅子。他优美自然地站了起来--个头比我想象的要高很多--背对着我，别人都还没离座，他已经走出了门。

　　我僵坐在自己的座位上，茫然地目送着他的背影。他这个人也太讨厌了。这不公平。我开始慢慢地收拾自己的东西，竭力抑制着满腔的怒火，怕自己的眼睛泛起泪花。不知什么原因，我的情绪跟泪腺之间有固定的电子线路连接。我生气时通常都会哭，这是一个很丢人的秉性。

　　"你是伊萨贝拉·斯旺吧？"一个男声问道。

　　我抬眼一看，只见一张可爱的娃娃脸，正友好地冲着我微笑，他浅黄色的头发用发胶整整齐齐地定成了一簇一簇的。他显然不认为我难闻。

　　"贝拉，"我微笑着纠正了他的说法。

　　"我是迈克。"

　　"你好，迈克。"

　　"你下一节课在哪儿上？需要我帮忙吗？"

　　"事实上，我要去体育馆。我想我能找到。"

　　"那也是我的下一节课。"他似乎很激动，尽管在这么小的一所学校里，这并不是什么大的巧合。

　　我们一起向上课的地方走去；他是个话匣子--主要是他讲我听，这让我感到很轻松。他十岁以前住在加利福尼亚，所以他能理解我对阳光的感受。后来才知道，他跟我英语课也是同班。他是我今天遇到的最好的人了。

　　不过，我们进体育馆的时候，他问了一句："那你有没有用铅笔什么的刺了爱德华·卡伦一下？我从来没有见过他那样。"

　　我愣住了。这么说来，我不是惟一注意到了的人。而且，显然爱德华·卡伦平时也不是这样。我决定装傻充愣。

　　"你是说生物学课坐我旁边的那个男生吗？"我问得很不艺术。

　　"对，"他说，"他看上去好像很苦恼或者有什么难言之隐似的。"

　　"我不知道，"我回答说，"我没跟他说过话。"

　　"他是个不可思议的家伙。"迈克在我边上耗着，迟迟不去更衣室，"要是我当时有幸坐在你旁边的话，我肯定就跟你说过话了。"

　　我冲他笑了笑，进了女更衣室。他很友好而且明显对我有好感。但这还不足以平息我的愤怒。

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress
down for today's class. At home, only two years of RE. were required.
Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal
hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how
many injuries I had sustained — and inflicted — playing volleyball, I
felt faintly nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my
paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and
colder. I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked
back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that
tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear 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
to another time — any other time.

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
to me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the
room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face.
The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the
wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened,
and he turned slowly to glare 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 more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the
receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "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.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed
like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green
hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly.
But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and
the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting
tears the whole way there.

　体育老师克拉普教练给我找了一件校服，但并没让我穿着上今天这节课。在家那边，只要求上两年的体育课，而在这里，体育整个四年都是必修课。福克斯对我而言，简直就是一座人间地狱。

　　我观看了同时进行的四场排球赛。想起我曾经受过多少伤，遭受过多少痛苦，我就有点儿恶心。

　　最后的一遍铃声终于响了。我慢慢地到行政办公室去交还我的纸片。雨已经飘到别的地方去了，但风很大，而且更冷了。我抱紧双臂，缩成了一团。

　　走进那暖和的办公室后，我差点儿转身就出来了。

　　爱德华·卡伦站在我面前的办公桌边，我又认出了那一头蓬乱的古铜色头发。他似乎没有注意到我进来的响声。我贴着后墙站着，等着负责接待的老师闲下来。

　　他正在用很有吸引力的声音低声同她理论，我很快就抓住了他们争论的要点。他想要将第六节生物课调到别的时间--任何别的时间都行。

　　我怎么也不能相信这事和我有关。肯定是因为什么别的事情，发生在我进那间生物学教室之前的事情。他脸上的表情肯定百分之百和另外一件恼火的事情有关。他跟我素昧平生，绝对不可能突如其来地对我产生如此强烈的厌恶之情。

　　门又开了，冷风突然灌了进来，把桌上的报纸刮得沙沙作响，吹散了我的头发，纷乱地贴在我的脸上。进来的女生只不过是走到桌边，往铁筐里放了一张纸条就又出去了。可爱德华·卡伦的背都僵直了，接着他慢慢地扭过头来瞪了我一眼--他的脸漂亮得不可思议--锐利的目光里充满了仇恨。刹那间，我感到了一阵真正的恐惧，胳膊上的汗毛都竖起来了。他只瞪了我一秒钟，可这一瞪比刚才那阵刺骨的寒风，还要令我感到寒冷。他把头又扭回去，面向接待员了。

　　"那么，没关系，"他用天鹅绒般柔和的声音匆匆说道，"我看得出来那是不可能的了。多谢您帮忙。"说完，他转身就走，没有再看我一眼，然后就消失在门外了。

　　我懦弱地来到了桌前，这一次脸不是变红了而是变白了，把签了名的纸片儿交给了她。

　　"你第一天过得怎样啊，宝贝？"接待老师如慈母般地问道。

　　"挺好的，"我撒了个谎，声音有些发虚。她好像并不太相信。

　　我来到停车场的时候，几乎就剩下我的那辆车了。车似乎像一个避难所，已经是我在这个潮湿的绿洞里所拥有的最接近家那边的东西了。我在里边坐了一会儿，一脸茫然地盯着挡风玻璃外边，仅此而已。可是，很快我就被冻得需要打开空调，于是我钥匙一转，引擎咆哮着发动起来了。我驶上了回查理家的路，一路上都在竭力不让泪水掉下来。