Edward's Diary

My Own (Leah's POV)

Dear diary,

May, the lady boss at the small bookstore I worked at frowned when she saw me come in, “You’re supposed to be off today. Why are you here, Leah?”  

        I laughed at her expression. Poor thing: she was down with a harsh cold, and still insisting on working her ass off to save the literature deficient world. I had actually come to cover for her, but I knew she wouldn’t go down without a fight, even if she looked relieved at my presence. 

“I know. I brought you some soup.” I smiled, “And I’ve come to tell you to get the hell out of here so I can take over.”  

Her forty year old brow rose in mock strictness, “This could be interpreted very differently without the first part.”  

I laughed again, “We’ll see about that if the time comes. Now, you drink the soup, and just pack your things. Go home.” 

“No. It’s your day off. You should be relaxing. And you’re busy enough as it is.” She shook her head. 

“Doing what: filling out college applications? Oh, come on. You’re sick. Go. Home.” I started to snatch the register from her hands, but she held on to it with weak hands. 

“Leah, no, it’s okay. I’m perfectly fine. George is dropping by later to take me to the doctor. It’ll be all right. I’m closing early anyway.” George was May’s very blond and very cerulean eyed husband. I’d met him only a few times, but I could tell he kept May really happy.  

“No way, May. You just sit in the back and relax. I’ll take over. Plus, I think Janie will be here in a while. I’ll leave then, okay?” I tried to be stern with my tone, and it seemed to have worked, for May narrowed her eyes for a minute and then sighed gratefully. 

“You’re an angel, Leah.” 

        I just laughed at her response and led her to the cozy couch in front of the fireplace. I settled her in, covering her with a blanket and roaring up the fire, and then brought out the chicken soup. May took it with a smile on her face, and I left her to her devices.  

        On my way back to the reception table, I had the same thought I’d been having for quite a few weeks now. The acceptance letter from the Harvard University was hiding under my bed in Seth’s and mine apartment. I’d never said anything about it to anyone. Everybody, including Mr. Mind Reader thought that I was still “in the process” of looking at schools after finishing my pre-med courses at a local community college.  

        This was my chance. People didn’t just get into Harvard Med. They had to work hard, toil themselves into the ground for that one piece of paper. And I had it in my hands, or for the moment, under my bed. I should have been dancing with joy. This was the opportunity that I had been waiting for: moving, starting a new life, away from everyone, possibly myself, however cruel and conceited that might sound. 

        I know, I know, the self deprecation should have gotten old now. But you can’t hide from yourself, from what you really are. That was something that followed me everywhere. I couldn’t escape the black hole of the supernatural realm I lived in.  

        Don’t get me wrong: I am not deriding everything and everyone I have. Strange and hard as it was, I had come to love the Cullens over the years. Contrary to all I had thought, they were, in fact, good, and the only extended family I had. I had found a surprising sister in Rosalie and Bella (Alice and I had ideological difference about what constitutes as fashion, but we got along). I loved Nessie. And I had to admit, although grudgingly, that Mr. Mind Reader was nice as well, though the air reeked with excess of love when he was around Bella.