The Dead of Night

Chapter Nine

"Oh, he did?" She turned her head to me, eyebrows raised, looking like she didn't believe me. "And what did he tell you?" Her voice was growing agitated and I was seriously pondering whether I should tell her or not.

The last thing I needed to see was another fight between them. However as the parking lot came into view, we spied the rest of the McRaes, who were being entertained by Eric, and dropped the subject.

As we rejoined the family, the conversation quickly changed to Eric's upcoming party. I found this to be a little odd, the Cullens has never celebrated birthdays among themselves. A 100th birthday might be understandable, but 122nd? It didn't seem like a very special number. Deciding to think about it later, I moved next to Eric, who wrapped his arm around my waist, causing the hole inside my stomach to burn—but, not in a bad way.

"So, Eric," Dante asked and leaned against the green SUV, "have you decided what we're going to do for your birthday?" The question caught everyone's attention, causing them to move in. Eric appeared to be deep in thought, wearing a secretive smile.

 "Well," he said a second later, "we should have it outdoors, that's most certain, I'm sick of remaining inside for things like this." The others agreed, mentioning their own birthday gatherings and how they were forced to celebrate out of the public eye. "One thing, though,"

Eric continued, "I want Avarice to play his pipes." The group agreed enthusiastically while I stared curiously.

"Pipes?" I asked Ary.

She nodded jubilantly. "Avarice is from Ireland, Bella; he has bagpipes." She beamed at me, with excitement, and smiled, her perfect teeth almost sparkling in the light.

I cringed a little. Bagpipes? My experience with the Celtic instrument was not a happy one. My mother had dated a man who was in love with that instrument and tried to learn how to play; too bad he was tone deaf. I grimaced at the memories of his countless rehearsal sessions in our home. The sound reminded me of dying cats. "Can he play them well?" I asked Ary.

Ary laughed at me, like I said something absurd. "Of course he can, Bella."

Eric threw his arm around my waist, causing a knot to form in my stomach. I looked up at him apprehensively and attempted to smile. Eric cocked his head to the side, obviously confused by the look in my eyes. "Is everything all right, Bella?" he asked while his eyes poured over my face.

I was just about to answer when the bell rang, calling all the students toward the school. Eric and Skye maneuvered me through the mass—I caught curious glances from my other friends—and before I knew it, I was in front of my seat. Mr. Marks was running late, so the students were entertaining themselves with paper airplanes and pencil spears. I hoped against all odds that the teacher wouldn't show. At least I could get out of reading more about love. Unfortunately ten minutes later, Mr. Marks pushed through the door, his face red and frustrated, muttering something about a flat tire. I groaned and went to put my head on the desk, but a piece of paper stopped me. I opened it and immediately recognized Eric's

penmanship.

 

So, are you going to tell me what's wrong? Or do I have to guess?