Rosalie's POV -

The next day at school, I go up to where Hayden is sitting and take a seat opposite her.

"Rosalie," she greets, looking up from her book.

"Hayden."

"What can I do for you this fine morning?"

"It's going to be sunny tomorrow. Just thought you should know."

"And?"

"And?"

"This affects me because..."

"We sparkle. In the sun. Which you should know."

"I do. I also know how to avoid that."

"Really?"

"The google on the school computers could have told me that. Why did you need to?"

"Our weather person is more reliable than your website."

"You like me."

"I do not."

"You like me. You're telling me things to protect me."

"I'm protecting my family."

"Whatever you say."

"How to you stop sparkling in the sun?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Covering clothes and thick paint."

"That works?"

"Has so far. Secret is just to cover your skin. I block the sun from hitting my skin, ergo, no sparkle sparkle."

"Does it crack?"

"I have to set it."

"And, don't people notice?"

"A few. I make them forget."

"How?"

"I have my ways?"

"Is it the same way you got Jax to leave you alone?"

"You saw that?"

"Yes."

"Yes. It was."

"Can you do it on me?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Could you do it on Emmett?"

"Definitely."

"Try it on me."

"I'll tell you three words. Remember them. Truck. Cabin. Spoon."

"Okay."

"Forget the words," she says in a deep voice. I feel something invade my mind, before disappearing so fast I wonder if it was ever there.

"What were the words?" she asks me.

"Truck? C something. Car? And uhhh. Uhhh. I don't know."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"Do you remember if I did anything to you?"

"You told me to forget the words in a deep, hollow voice."

"The words were truck, cabin and spoon. You shouldn't remember the first word, or starting letter of the second. Or that I told you to forget them."

"Guess I'm just special," I joke, smiling.

"Guess you are."

"I'm going to class. You should do the same."

"After I finish this page."

"See you in French?"

"Yeah."

In French, we didn't only talk about French. Mostly about French, but also about other things. Our plans for the day. I invited her to our table at lunch, assuming the others would be okay with it, seeing how they'd got on relatively well at the baseball game. We go to lunch together and get a few stares when she joins our table. We're used to it. Being just about the only people at this school who didn't grow up here has its problems.

"You're joining us, Hayden?" Edward asked.

"Apparently so."

"Guys, I'm in love," Alice says excitedly.

"What with?" Edward asks.

"A 1959 dusty pink Cadillac. I found a relatively cheap one and sure, it was kind of beat up, but I think it could be a fun project for you, Rosalie?"

"I'm in, if I can drive it. Our cars are in annoyingly good condition," I reply.

"That's a good thing, Rose," Edward tells me as, the others arrive at our table.

"What are we buying now?" Jasper asked her, kissing the top of her head.

"A 1959 Cadillac."

"Does it work?"

"Our resident mechanic will make sure it does."

"Will she now?" He raises his eyebrow at me.

"Only if you buy it."

"Then I guess we better be buying a car."

The rest of lunch is talking and joking around, Hayden seems happy. She's smiling and laughing occasionally. I think she likes us more than she lets on. And maybe likes not being alone. Her smile's nice. It's bright and... I don't know, just like the sun. But I don't like like her. Definitely not. She leaves with Emmett, Albert and I. She and Emmett part with us at the cross between their building and ours.

"See you after school, babe," Emmett says to Albert before they part, giving each other a fist bump.

"Will you drive us home tonight?"

"Yes."

"I'll see you then."

"Bye Rosalie," Hayden says.

"See you later?" I ask her.

"Maybe."

"Well that was cryptic."

"Guess it was."

It turns out I do see her again, somewhere I was definitely not expecting.

"Hello Rosalie."

"You aren't in this class."

"Timetable mistake."

"You changed from Physics to English Lit?"

"Yes. I put English Lit on my timetable, but they made a mistake. I did the entire Physics course at my last school. I don't tend to double consecutively."

"Neither do I."

"You studied Macbeth before?"

"Of course."

"Same. How many times?"

"A few. Four or five I think."

"Three times before. Only in America, it's not on the A-Level syllabus."

"Really?"

"Most schools study it in the earlier years."

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes," I quote as the teacher walks into the room. She laughs.

"Is he really that bad?"

"I'm only doing well in this class because I've studied English Lit so many times. I've got a degree in it, which also helps."

"You, an English Lit degree?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"You spent three years at college? Studying books and writing essays about them?"

"Yes."

"Is that not incredibly boring? And book ruining?"

"A little, but I didn't study books that I liked."

"You have more patience than I do."

"I guessed that."

"Settle down class," the teacher says.

"Do you ever just quote Macbeth at Alice?" she asks me once we are set out work.

"Occasionally."

"Does it annoy her?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes she just quotes it back."

"If you can look into the seeds of time and say what grain will grow and which will not."

"Or have we eaten on the insane root that takes the reason prison?"

"What is in a name? A Rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Very funny."

"I thought so."

"Not Macbeth though."

"Romeo and Juliet. But it's still Shakespeare."

"Sir, my pen's exploded," some boy says from the other side of the classroom, blue ink dripping down his chin.

"Well then, go to the bathroom and wash it out of your mouth," Mr Fell tells him.

"Lord, what fools these mortals be," Hayden mutters under her breath.

"Midsummer Night's Dream."

"You really do know your Shakespeare."

"My father read it to me a lot when I was little."

"Was he good? Your father?"

"He wasn't bad."

"That's good."

"What about you?"

She shrugs, before asking, "So, you're a mechanic?"

I noticed her avoidance of an answer, but don't press on it. I have things that I don't talk about too.

"Yeah. I used to see pretty girls on the cover of car magazines and associated them with cars. Eventually I became interested in cars. When Carlisle took me in, I decided to learn for real."

"So that's, what, 20, 60, 8, minus maybe 2 equals 86 years. Give or take. Lot of experience for an eighteen year old."

"Mhm."

"You ever done it as work?"

"A few times."

"There's a mechanic in Port Angeles. She's looking for someone to help her, preferably a student. Someone who can work after school for not too much and wants to be there."

"How do you know her?"

"She's the one who gets my mail."

"Because you get so much mail."

"As in school shit. And anything else you need an adult for. Plus, she lends me stuff bought from charity shops. I pay her back at least half."

"You can get me in with her?"

"If you want a job."

"When can we talk?"

"After school?"

"That quick."

"She does need someone."

"Am I driving us?"

"I don't have a car."

"Then okay."

"I'll see you after school."

"Meet you at my car. It's the..."

"Red BMW convertible."

"You know my car?"

"I'm observant."

"I guess we should write our essays now."

"Guess we should."