Our Infinite Sadness

Practice Room

Edythe would just have to miss home room entirely, because she walked right by the door, went back outside, and skipped through puddles, happier than she had ever been in a century.

Her siblings observed and were neither particularly surprised nor concerned, since she had clearly gone mad six weeks ago.

She did not meet up with Alice until after homeroom, on the first period bell.

Alice skipped in puddles as well, neither with joy nor over the moon, but just to do it. She had a hundred vital things to say, of course, but she could hardly see the point when her dear sister upended the future with every move.

"Remember," she remarked at one point, "Mr. Banner's going to be bloodtyping today. You'll need to ditch."

"That's my favorite class," Edythe maintained. "I can handle a little blood."

"Can you handle Ben's blood?"

Edythe frowned. She thought she could. The flaming thirst for his delicious scent had transformed to something else these past six weeks, but she couldn't be entirely sure, and she couldn't risk endangering him.

Alice went on, "And how are you going to participate?"

"You make a good point," Edythe conceded.

She looked at Alice, chewing her tongue. "How am I doing, future-wise?"

"You don't want to know."

That said it all. Edythe wouldn't be deflated by Alice's gloomy forecasts when for the first time in her existence she felt on top of the world. "At least I'm consistent."

"Edy, all I ask is that you please just think."

"No. I told you. I give up. You win. Every time I overthink this, disaster strikes. I'm going entirely on my intuition."

"It's not going to work, Edy."

"Maybe not," she said with a carefree shrug, "but nothing else has. You've told me how it ends and I'm no longer arguing. I'm going to hell on an elevator straight down, no matter what I do. I've decided that I'm going to enjoy the ride."

Before Alice could retort, Edythe dismissively said, "See you at lunch."

Alice raised an eyebrow at that remark but said nothing, and Edythe, completely diverted by her elation, had no inkling of its significance.

Edythe would watch Ben over the course of the morning, through the eyes of others, and she would gradually develop an appreciation for the fact that his tripping through the threshold of the classroom two days ago had not been a rare anomaly. Despite his physical strength and agility, he really was rather uncoordinated and ungainly, an awkward young buck still growing and finding his legs. People were calling him klutzy and not always behind his back. Among the Ski Team it was a running joke, which he took in stride for sake of the camaraderie, and the light, good-natured hazing left him undaunted and unbroken. Edythe found his unsteady coordination endearing and adorable.

Ben hurriedly found his seat in English and glanced up absently at Alice Cullen as she passed him on the aisle. As usual she paid no attention whatsoever to him and most likely had no awareness of what had just transpired between Edythe and himself.

His mind was elsewhere, for the whole hour. He rehashed the parking lot encounter over and over in an effort to convince himself that it had really happened.

He thought about what Zoey would make of the news that today, Edythe Cullen had declared that she could no longer stay away from him. Ben resolved to withhold that news for a day or two, to determine how many hours it would hold. He could not bring himself to hope that their ephemeral thaw in relations would last through the day.