“Stronger than Emmett?”

The grin got bigger. “Yes. Do me a favor and challenge him to an arm-wrestling match. It would be a good experience for him.”

I laughed. It sounded so ridiculous.

Then I sighed and hopped down from the counter, because I really couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to cram, and cram hard. Luckily I had Edward’s help, and Edward was an excellent tutor — since he knew absolutely everything. I figured my biggest problem would be just focusing on the tests. If I didn’t watch myself, I might end up writing my History essay on the vampire wars of the South.

I took a break to call Jacob, and Edward seemed just as comfortable as he had when I was on the phone with Renee. He played with my hair again.

Though it was the middle of the afternoon, my call woke Jacob up, and he was grouchy at first. He cheered right up when I asked if I could visit the next day. The Quileute school was already out for the summer, so he told me to come over as early as I could. I was pleased to have an option besides being babysat. There was a tiny bit more dignity in spending the day with Jacob.

Some of that dignity was lost when Edward insisted again on delivering me to the border line like a child being exchanged by custodial guardians.

“So how do you feel you did on your exams?” Edward asked on the way, making small talk.

“History was easy, but I don’t know about the Calculus. It seemed like it was making sense, so that probably means I failed.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you did fine. Or, if you’re really worried, I could bribe Mr. Varner to give you an A.”

“Er, thanks, but no thanks.”

He laughed again, but suddenly stopped when we turned the last bend and saw the red car waiting. He frowned in concentration, and then, as he parked the car, he sighed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my hand on the door.

He shook his head. “Nothing.” His eyes were narrowed as he stared through the windshield toward the other car. I’d seen that look before.

“You’re not listening to Jacob, are you?” I accused.

“It’s not easy to ignore someone when he’s shouting.”

“Oh.” I thought about that for a second. “What’s he shouting?” I whispered.

“I’m absolutely certain he’ll mention it himself,” Edward said in a wry tone.

I would have pressed the issue, but then Jacob honked his horn — two quick impatient honks.

“That’s impolite,” Edward growled.

“That’s Jacob,” I sighed, and I hurried out before Jacob did something to really set Edward’s teeth on edge.

I waved to Edward before I got into the Rabbit and, from that distance, it looked like he was truly upset about the honking thing . . . or whatever Jacob was thinking about. But my eyes were weak and made mistakes all the time.

I wanted Edward to come to me. I wanted to make both of them get out of their cars and shake hands and be friends — be Edward and Jacob rather than vampire and werewolf. It was as if I had those two stubborn magnets in my hands again, and I was holding them together, trying to force nature to reverse herself. . . .

I sighed, and climbed in Jacob’s car.

“Hey, Bells.” Jake’s tone was cheerful, but his voice dragged. I examined his face as he started down the road, driving a little faster than I did, but slower than Edward, on his way back to La Push.

Jacob looked different, maybe even sick. His eyelids drooped and his face was drawn. His shaggy hair stuck out in random directions; it was almost to his chin in some places.

“Are you all right, Jake?”

“Just tired,” he managed to get out before he was overcome by a massive yawn. When he finished, he asked, “What do you want to do today?”

I eyed him for a moment. “Let’s just hang out at your place for now,” I suggested. He didn’t look like he was up for much more than that. “We can ride our bikes later.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, yawning again.

Jacob’s house was vacant, and that felt strange. I realized I thought of Billy as a nearly permanent fixture there.

“Where’s your dad?”

“Over at the Clearwaters’. He’s been hanging out there a lot since Harry died. Sue gets lonely.”

Jacob sat down on the old couch that was no bigger than a loveseat and squished himself to the side to make room for me.

“Oh. That’s nice. Poor Sue.”

“Yeah . . . she’s having some trouble. . . .” He hesitated. “With her kids.”

“Sure, it’s got to be hard on Seth and Leah, losing their dad. . . .”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed, lost in thought. He picked up the remote and flipped on the TV without seeming to think about it. He yawned.

“What’s with you, Jake? You’re like a zombie.”

“I got about two hours of sleep last night, and four the night before,” he told me. He stretched his long arms slowly, and I could hear the joints crack as he flexed. He settled his left arm along the back of the sofa behind me, and slumped back to rest his head against the wall. “I’m exhausted.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I asked.

He made a face. “Sam’s being difficult. He doesn’t trust your bloodsuckers. I’ve been running double shifts for two weeks and nobody’s touched me yet, but he still doesn’t buy it. So I’m on my own for now.”

“Double shifts? Is this because you’re trying to watch out for me? Jake, that’s wrong! You need to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no big deal.” His eyes were abruptly more alert. “Hey, did you ever find out who was in your room? Is there anything new?”

I ignored the second question. “No, we didn’t find anything out about my, um, visitor.”

“Then I’ll be around,” he said as his eyes slid closed.

“Jake . . . ,” I started to whine.

“Hey, it’s the least I can do — I offered eternal servitude, remember. I’m your slave for life.”

“I don’t want a slave!”

His eyes didn’t open. “What do you want, Bella?”

“I want my friend Jacob — and I don’t want him half-dead, hurting himself in some misguided attempt —”

He cut me off. “Look at it this way — I’m hoping I can track down a vampire I’m allowed to kill, okay?”

I didn’t answer. He looked at me then, peeking at my reaction.

“Kidding, Bella.”

I stared at the TV.

“So, any special plans next week? You’re graduating. Wow. That’s big.” His voice turned flat, and his face, already drawn, looked downright haggard as his eyes closed again — not in exhaustion this time, but in denial. I realized that graduation still had a horrible significance for him, though my intentions were now disrupted.

“No special plans,” I said carefully, hoping he would hear the reassurance in my words without a more detailed explanation. I didn’t want to get into it now. For one thing, he didn’t look up for any difficult conversations. For another, I knew he would read too much into my qualms. “Well, I do have to go to a graduation party. Mine.” I made a disgusted sound. “Alice loves parties, and she’s invited the whole town to her place the night of. It’s going to be horrible.”

His eyes opened as I spoke, and a relieved smile made his face look less worn. “I didn’t get an invitation. I’m hurt,” he teased.

“Consider yourself invited. It’s supposedly my party, so I should be able to ask who I want.”

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically, his eyes slipping closed once more.

“I wish you would come,” I said without any hope. “It would be more fun. For me, I mean.”

“Sure, sure,” he mumbled. “That would be very . . . wise . . .” His voice trailed off.

A few seconds later, he was snoring.

Poor Jacob. I studied his dreaming face, and liked what I saw. While he slept, every trace of defensiveness and bitterness disappeared and suddenly he was the boy who had been my very best friend before all the werewolf nonsense had gotten in the way. He looked so much younger. He looked like my Jacob.

I nestled into the couch to wait out his nap, hoping he would sleep for a while and make up some of what he’d lost. I flipped through channels, but there wasn’t much on. I settled for a cooking show, knowing, as I watched, that I’d never put that much effort into Charlie’s dinner. Jacob continued to snore, getting louder. I turned up the TV.

I was strangely relaxed, almost sleepy, too. This house felt safer than my own, probably because no one had ever come looking for me here. I curled up on the sofa and thought about taking a nap myself. Maybe I would have, but Jacob’s snoring was impossible to tune out. So, instead of sleeping, I let my mind wander.

Finals were done, and most of them had been a cakewalk. Calculus, the one exception, was behind me, pass or fail. My high school education was over. And I didn’t really know how I felt about that. I couldn’t look at it objectively, tied up as it was with my human life being over.

I wondered how long Edward planned to use this “not because you’re scared” excuse. I was going to have to put my foot down sometime.

If I were thinking practically, I knew it made more sense to ask Carlisle to change me the second I made it through the graduation line. Forks was becoming nearly as dangerous as a war zone. No, Forks was a war zone. Not to mention . . . it would be a good excuse to miss the graduation party. I smiled to myself as I thought of that most trivial of reasons for changing. Silly . . . yet still compelling.

But Edward was right — I wasn’t quite ready yet.

And I didn’t want to be practical. I wanted Edward to be the one. It wasn’t a rational desire. I was sure that — about two seconds after someone actually bit me and the venom started burning through my veins — I really wouldn’t care anymore who had done it. So it shouldn’t make a difference.

It was hard to define, even to myself, why it mattered. There was just something about him being the one to make the choice — to want to keep me enough that he wouldn’t just allow me to be changed, he would act to keep me. It was childish, but I liked the idea that his lips would be the last good thing I would feel. Even more embarrassingly, something I would never say aloud, I wanted his venom to poison my system. It would make me belong to him in a tangible, quantifiable way.

But I knew he was going to stick to his marriage scheme like glue — because a delay was what he was clearly after and it was working so far. I tried to imagine telling my parents that I was getting married this summer. Telling Angela and Ben and Mike. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of the words to say. It would be easier to tell them I was becoming a vampire. And I was sure that at least my mother — were I to tell her every detail of the truth — would be more strenuously opposed to me getting married than to me a becoming vampire. I grimaced to myself as I imagined her horrified expression.