When I woke up the next morning, something was different. Calll Oprah, there was no fog today! I jumped out of bed and ran to my window only to my sheer disappointment: it had clearly been snowing all of last night.
Jack had already left for work by the time I got downstairs. He'd left me lunch money stuck on the fridge next to a Crazy Booth photo strip of him and Carole. He was really falling head over heels for her.
I finished breakfast surprisingly fast that morning. Though I didn't want to admit it, it probably had something to do with the fact that I was eager to get to school to see Luke Hemmings . And that was very, very stupid.
So what if he didn't date any of the girls at Forks? I don't care how good Rachel thought her gaydar was I was not going to assume anything about anyone—especially when it risked my heart. Besides, I should be avoiding him at all costs after my unnecessary teenage babbling yesterday. And I was suspicious of him; why should he lie about his eyes? I was so frightened of being rejected by this boy but at the same time tongue-tied over his perfect face. But I was well aware that I had no chance. So I shouldn't be at all anxious to see him today.
Driving to school, I distracted myself from my speculations about Luke Hemmings by thinking about Finn and Mike, and the obvious difference in how teenage boys treated me here. I was sure I looked and acted no different than I had in Sturgis. Maybe it was because the boys back there were a bunch of Neanderthals compared to here with the well-raised gentleman of Forks. Perhaps I was a novelty, where novelties here were few and in between, or maybe everyone was just plainly indifferent. That or my outstanding advanced fashionista attitude cast me entirely into an entity of my own where I not only knew I was superior to them but that they knew it too. And it was about freaking time.
My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to risk having an accident on Main Street.
When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I carefully walked to the back of my truck to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. No doubt Jack had risen who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. It was just like him to take care of me and it confirmed my beliefs—that I was just so lucky to have him as my dad.
I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound.
It was a high-pitched screech, the kind you heard in action movies during car chases, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled.
I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, like I daydreamed would happen in this scenario. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.
Luke Hemmings was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. He wasn't the only one but his face stood out, at that moment the only face I cared to see. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of the truck, and by any deity that could possibly exist out there, my life was screwed; I was standing between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes.
Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I had calculated. My head suddenly hit the floor and I felt something cold and solid pinning me down. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked next to. But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else because the blue van was still spinning out of control and was about to collide with me—again.
