Wednesday dawned with an unusual clarity for Forks; it wasn't that the sun had come out, but the mist was thinner, as if the world had decided to give us a breather after Monday's chaos. I woke up feeling strangely light. My headache had been reduced to a distant echo that only appeared if I made sudden movements, and that sensation of "electricity" under my skin had settled into a dull, constant hum.
I prepared myself calmly, choosing my clothes with deliberate slowness. I put on a thick gray wool sweater and my leather boots. When I went downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and scrambled eggs greeted me in the kitchen. Charlie was there, in uniform but without his usual rush, and Bella was sitting at the table, stirring her cereal with a vacant expression.
"Mael, son," Charlie said, setting his mug on the counter. "I was just talking to your sister. If you feel unwell, or if you simply prefer to stay and rest today, there's no problem with you skipping class. The police chief gives you a hall pass."
I gave him a small smile, the first one that didn't hurt my face. "Thanks, Dad, but I'm fine. If I stay locked up here watching the moss grow in the garden, I'm going to go crazy. I'd rather go and get the drama over with once and for all."
Charlie sighed but nodded with the resignation of someone who knows his children are just as stubborn as he is. "Alright. But listen: Bella, keep an eye on him all day. And you, Mael, if you feel your head throbbing or if the world starts spinning again, you ask for permission and come straight home. No excuses." "Accepted," I replied, finishing my breakfast in one go.
We climbed into the Chevy, and the engine roared to life. The drive to school was, as I feared, a covert interrogation. Bella drove with a tension that showed in the way she gripped the steering wheel, her white knuckles standing out against her skin. "Mael..." she began, using that voice she used when she was about to drop a bombshell. "You have to admit that yesterday wasn't normal." "Nothing in this town is normal, Bella. There's more rain than people and the police chief eats yesterday's donuts for breakfast." "I'm not talking about that," she cut me off, casting a quick glance my way. "I'm talking about Edward. Mael, he was on the other side of the parking lot. I saw him. And a second later, he was there, stopping the van with... with one hand! The metal bent, Mael. I saw it with my own eyes."
I leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes. The memory of my own invisible "wall" crossed my mind, mixed with the image of my fantasy from last night. I felt a sudden heat in my neck. "Bella, please," I said, trying to sound tired. "We had a traumatic accident. Adrenaline makes the brain process things in a distorted way. Maybe he was already close, maybe the van hit a thicker patch of ice and stopped just before impacting." "No!" she insisted, almost shouting. "And you! You stepped in front of me and... I felt something. As if the air had turned solid for a moment. You did something too, Mael. Don't try to hide it from me."
I let out a long, heavy sigh, opening my eyes to look at the blurred forest passing by the window. "I'm tired of the theories, Bells. Really. I have a concussion, my head hurts if I think too much, and all I want is to get to class, draw a few shadows, and have no one ask me how I survived. Edward saved us, good for him. I protected you because you're my sister, end of story. Don't look for ghosts where there was only luck."
Bella pressed her lips together, clearly frustrated because I wasn't agreeing with her, but she remained silent for the rest of the way. I knew she wasn't going to give up—she was a bloodhound—but I wasn't willing to be her prey today. My mind already had enough to deal with, trying to understand what this force was that had awakened in me and, above all, how I was going to look the Cullens in the face after having stripped them in my imagination the night before.
We arrived at the school and the silver Volvo was already there, gleaming under the grayish light as a reminder that the mystery was only just beginning.
Upon getting out of the Chevy, the Forks High parking lot, which was normally a place of apathy and whispers under the rain, transformed into a frenzied anthill. As soon as my feet touched the asphalt, I felt gazes piercing us like pins. "Mael! Bella! My God, you're alive!" Jessica Stanley screamed, running toward us with an enthusiasm that felt almost violent.
In a matter of seconds, we were surrounded. Eric, Mike, Tyler (who still looked like he wanted to die of embarrassment), and a group of people whose names I didn't even remember formed a suffocating circle around us. I tried to be nice. I really tried. "I'm fine, thanks... Yes, it was just a scare..." I replied mechanically, trying to force a smile that felt like dry cardboard on my face.
But people kept pushing. They crowded in, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of intrusive questions. I felt the heat of their bodies too close, the smell of their cheap perfumes, and the damp breath of morbid curiosity. Claustrophobia, that old enemy, began to rise up my throat like a black tide. The air turned thin, heavy. My ears began to buzz. "I just want to disappear. I just want them to leave me alone. Go away. Disappear," I pleaded in the silence of my mind, clenching my fists inside my coat pockets.
Then, something inexplicable happened. The noise stopped. Not because they stopped talking, but because, suddenly, everyone seemed to lose interest in us at the same time. Their gazes became wandering, unfocused. Mike Newton scratched his head, looking around as if he had forgotten why he was there. One by one, they began to disperse, muttering nonsense about being late for class, leaving us in the middle of a sudden vacuum.
I seized the moment of confusion, bowed my head, and walked toward the Art building without looking back. Bella followed me, but said nothing; she too seemed dazed by the group's sudden collective amnesia.
I spent the first few hours of class submerged in a mist of deep thoughts. Bella's theories, which yesterday seemed like the delusions of a mind addicted to drama, began to take on a terrifying and logical shape in my head. What she described... what I felt in my own hands... that was no miracle. It was a rupture of reality.
Something inside me had changed. It was as if a floodgate that had been sealed since my birth had cracked, letting out a force I could no longer contain. I felt different, "sharper," as if my senses were connected to a power source that made the world look like a half-finished drawing.
During lunch and shared classes, I ignored everyone. Even Alice and Jasper. I saw them approaching, I saw the concern in her hazel eyes and the vibrant tension in his posture, but I couldn't speak to them. If I opened my mouth to them, I felt that all my secrets—and perhaps theirs—would go flying out. I buried myself in my notebook, tracing dark lines, refusing to engage in any connection that might break the fragile balance of my sanity.
The last hour was P.E. Due to Monday's concussion, Coach Clapp ordered me to stay in the bleachers while the others played volleyball. I sat on the highest level, my back against the cold wall, letting the sound of sneakers screeching against the wooden floor lull me. I was absorbed, staring at a fixed point in the air, analyzing the "current" I felt running through my fingers.
Suddenly, a scream broke my trance. "WATCH OUT!"
A misdirected spike from one of the sophomores sent the volleyball hurtling toward the bleachers. It was coming at an absurd speed, a white projectile aimed straight for my face. Out of pure instinct, I raised my hands to protect myself, closing my eyes tight.
In that microsecond, I felt something burst from my chest. It wasn't a thought; it was a necessity. A translucent membrane, almost invisible but with the density of diamond, expanded from my skin, enveloping me like a protective egg barely two centimeters from my body.
POOF!
The ball collided with the air in front of my hands with a dull thud, as if it had hit a concrete wall, and bounced toward the other side of the gym. At the very instant of impact, I felt a sharp sting of pain right in the center of my forehead, an electric jolt that made me grit my teeth. The sensation of the membrane shrank rapidly, receding back inside me like a ebbing tide.
"Mael! Are you okay?" Coach Clapp came running over, panting. "Great reflexes! I thought it was going to break your nose. Good thing you got your hands up in time." I lifted my face, blinking to clear the spots of light dancing in my vision. "Yeah... I'm fine. Don't worry, it was just the scare," I said, my voice a bit raspy.
But the coach didn't move. His expression shifted from concern to panic. "Mael... you have... you're bleeding." I wiped the back of my hand across my nose and felt something warm and thick. A thin stream of blood was rolling down my left nostril. I wiped it quickly with my sleeve, trying to hide it, but it was too late. "I'm sure it's just side effects from Monday's accident, Coach," I said, trying to sound convincing despite the shaking in my hands. "Dr. Cullen said I might have some dizziness or minor hemorrhages due to cranial pressure. It's nothing serious."
Coach Clapp nodded, though he remained pale. "Alright, but that's enough for today. Grab your things and go home. I don't want you fainting in my class. Go on, get going."
I gathered my backpack with mechanical movements. I crossed the gym feeling everyone's gaze, including Bella's, who was watching me from the net with a mix of horror and confirmed suspicion. On my way out, I found her waiting for me at the back door. "Mael, are you okay? Did it hit you hard?" she whispered, grabbing my arm. "I'll wait for you in the truck, Bella," I cut her off, pulling away from her grip. "My head hurts and I just want darkness."
I walked toward the parking lot, wiping away the trail of blood that was still weakly flowing. The "wall" was no longer a theory. It was a reality that lived inside me, and the price for using it seemed to be my own body.
The journey back home was an exercise in absolute restraint. I sank into the passenger seat of the Chevy, leaning my forehead against the cold glass of the window while pressing my temples with my fingers. The pain wasn't like Monday's; this was an electric sting, a residual vibration that seemed to come from a deep place beneath my sternum.
Bella drove in a tense silence, casting sidelong glances at me every time the car hit a pothole. I could feel her questions burning on her tongue, but my body language—hunched over, eyes closed, and heavy breathing—was a wall that she, for once, decided not to try and climb over.
As soon as the tires crushed the gravel of our driveway, I felt the pressure start to ease. The safety of home has always been my best painkiller. "Go upstairs, Mael. I'll bring the things in," Bella murmured softly.
I climbed the stairs with leaden feet, swallowed one of the pills Carlisle had prescribed for me, and collapsed onto the bed. I lay there staring at the dim ceiling, waiting for the chemistry to do its work. But being still was worse; the silence fed the memories of the volleyball bouncing off nothingness and the blood staining my hand. I couldn't stay there waiting for my thoughts to eat me alive.
Half an hour later, I went down to the kitchen. The pain was now only a vague memory. Bella was in the living room with a book, but she looked up surprised to see me taking out bowls and whisks. "Mael? You should be resting." "Resting makes me nervous," I replied, looking for the sugar and butter. "I need to move my hands, Bells. I'm going to make a chocolate and coffee cake."
I moved through the kitchen with almost surgical precision. Measuring the flour, sifting the cocoa, whisking the eggs until they reached the exact point... it was a choreography that forced me to be present. The strange hum under my skin calmed down as the sweet, earthy aroma of the cake began to fill the ground floor. By the time I took the cake out of the oven, the headache had completely vanished and my pulse was back to normal.
Bella entered the kitchen, drawn by the smell, leaning on the counter while I let the cake cool on a rack. "It smells incredible," she said, though her expression was still one of concern. "Mael... about what happened in the gym..." I stopped, looking her straight in the eyes. "Bells, listen to me carefully. Don't tell Charlie what happened today. Not about the ball, and definitely not about the bleeding." "But Mael, your nose bled out of nowhere, that could be..." "That is just stress and Monday's concussion," I lied with a certainty I almost believed myself. "Charlie already has enough to do watching the town and worrying about us. If you tell him anything, he's going to go into panic mode and forbid me from even breathing. Please. It's just between us."
Bella hesitated, biting her lower lip, but finally nodded. She knew I was right about our father's overprotectiveness. "Alright. I won't say anything. But in exchange, you're going to help me make dinner and you're going to promise me that if you feel like that again, you'll tell me right away." "Deal," I said, giving her an affectionate little nudge on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get the meat out. Let's make something good for when the old man gets here."
We cooked together, moving in a synchrony that only twins manage to achieve. We chopped vegetables, seasoned dinner, and set the table just in time to hear the engine of Charlie's patrol car pulling up outside. The three of us ate dinner like a normal family: Charlie telling stories from the department, Bella laughing out of obligation, and me, sitting there, feeling that at last the shadows had stayed outside the house.
For now, the secret was safe. But Saturday was approaching, and with it, the date with the Cullens that would change everything.