Twilight Stephenie Meyer 2005 Preface

   Be safe.
   The sound of the truck roaring to life frightened me. I laughed at myself.
   When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the dead bolt unlocked, just as I'd 
left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to the laundry room. It looked just the same as 
I'd left it, too. I dug for my jeans and, after finding them, checked the pockets. Empty. 
Maybe I'd hung my key up after all, I thought, shaking my head.
   Following the same instinct that had prompted me to lie to Mike, I called Jessica on the 
pretense of wishing her luck at the dance. When she offered the same wish for my day 
with Edward, I told her about the cancellation. She was more disappointed than really 
necessary for a third-party observer to be. I said goodbye quickly after that.
   Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed, or 
maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying the lasagna — it was hard 
to tell with Charlie.
   "You know, Dad…" I began, breaking into his reverie.
   "What's that, Bell ?"
   "I think you're right about Seattle. I think I'll wait until Jessica or someone else can go 
with me."
   "Oh," he said, surprised. "Oh, okay. So, do you want me to stay home?"
   "No, Dad, don't change your plans. I've got a million things to do… homework, 
laundry… I need to go to the library and the grocery store. I'll be in and out all day… you 
go and have fun."
   "Are you sure?"
   "Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is getting dangerously low on fish — we're down 
to a two, maybe three years' supply."
   "You're sure easy to live with, Bella." He smiled.
   "I could say the same thing about you," I said, laughing. The sound of my laughter was 
off, but he didn't seem to notice. I felt so guilty for deceiving him that I almost took 
Edward's advice and told him where I would be. Almost.
   After dinner, I folded clothes and moved another load through the dryer. Unfortunately 
it was the kind of job that only keeps hands busy. My mind definitely had too much free 
time, and it was getting out of control. I fluctuated between anticipation so intense that it 
was very nearly pain, and an insidious fear that picked at my resolve. I had to keep 
reminding myself that I'd made my choice, and I wasn't going back on it. I pulled his note 
out of my pocket much more often than necessary to absorb the two small words he'd 
written. He wants me to be safe, I told myself again and again. I would just hold on to the 
faith that, in the end, that desire would win out over the others. And what was my other 

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choice — to cut him out of my life? Intolerable. Besides, since I'd come to Forks, it really 
seemed like my life was about him.
   But a tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would hurt very 
much… if it ended badly.
   I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I knew I was far 
too stressed to sleep, so I did something I'd never done before. I deliberately took 
unnecessary cold medicine — the kind that knocked me out for a good eight hours. I 
normally wouldn't condone that type of behavior in myself, but tomorrow would be 
complicated enough without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on top of everything 
else. While I waited for the drugs to kick in, I dried my clean hair till it was impeccably 
straight, and fussed over what I would wear tomorrow. With everything ready for the 
morning, I finally lay in my bed. I felt hyper; I couldn't stop twitching. I got up and rifled 
through my shoebox of CDs until I found a collection of Chopin's nocturnes. I put that on 
very quietly and then lay down again, concentrating on relaxing individual parts of my 
body. Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the cold pills took effect, and I gladly 
sank into unconsciousness.
   I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to my gratuitous drug use. 
Though I was well rested, I slipped right back into the same hectic frenzy from the night 
before. I dressed in a rush, smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan 
sweater till it hung right over my jeans. I sneaked a swift look out the window to see that 
Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look 
very lasting.
   I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I peeked 
out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just finished brushing my teeth and 
was heading back downstairs when a quiet knock sent my heart thudding against my rib 
cage.
   I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple dead bolt, but I yanked the door 
open at last, and there he was. All the agitation dissolved as soon as I looked at his face, 
calm taking its place. I breathed a sigh of relief — yesterday's fears seemed very foolish 
with him here.
   He wasn't smiling at first — his face was somber. But then his expression lightened as 
he looked me over, and he laughed.
   "Good morning," he chuckled.
   "What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important, 
like shoes, or pants.
   "We match." He laughed again. I realized he had a long, light tan sweater on, with a 
white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed with him, hiding a secret 
twinge of regret — why did he have to look like a runway model when I couldn't?
   I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by the passenger 
door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.
   "We made a deal," I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver's seat, and reaching 
over to unlock his door.
   "Where to?" I asked.
   "Put your seat belt on — I'm nervous already."
   I gave him a dirty look as I complied.
   "Where to?" I repeated with a sigh.

---

   "Take the one-oh-one north," he ordered.
   It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his gaze on my 
face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.
   "Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"
   "This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather — have some respect," I retorted.
   We were soon out of the town limits, despite his negativity. Thick underbrush and 
green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.
   "Turn right on the one-ten," he instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently.
   "Now we drive until the pavement ends."
   I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving 
him right to look over and be sure.
   "And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.
   "A trail."
   "We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn tennis shoes.
   "Is that a problem?" He sounded as if he'd expected as much.
   "No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he thought my truck was slow…
   "Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."
   Five miles. I didn't answer, so that he wouldn't hear my voice crack in panic. Five miles 
of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise incapacitate 
me. This was going to be humiliating.
   We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror.
   "What are you thinking?" he asked impatiently after a few moments.
   I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."
   "It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out the windows at 
the thinning clouds after he spoke.
   "Charlie said it would be warm today."
   "And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?" he asked.
   "Nope."
   "But Jessica thinks we're going to Seattle together?" He seemed cheered by the idea.
   "No, I told her you canceled on me — which is true."
   "No one knows you're with me?" Angrily, now.
   "That depends… I assume you told Alice ?"
   "That's very helpful, Bella," he snapped.
   I pretended I didn't hear that.
   "Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?" he demanded when I 
ignored him.
   "You said it might cause trouble for you… us being together publicly," I reminded him.
   "So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me —if you don't come home ?" His 
voice was still angry, and bitingly sarcastic.
    I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.
   He muttered something under his breath, speaking so quickly that I couldn't understand.
   We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of infuriated disapproval 
rolling off of him, and I could think of nothing to say.
   And then the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I 
parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, afraid because he was angry with me and 
I didn't have driving as an excuse not to look at him. It was warm now, warmer than it 

---

had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off 
my sweater and knotted it around my waist, glad that I'd worn the light, sleeveless shirt 
— especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me.
   I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he'd removed his sweater, too. He was 
facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.
   "This way," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, eyes still annoyed. He started 
into the dark forest.
   "The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice as I hurried around the truck to catch up to 
him.
   "I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."
   "No trail?" I asked desperately.
   "I won't let you get lost." He turned then, with a mocking smile, and I stifled a gasp. 
His white shirt was sleeveless, and he wore it unbuttoned, so that the smooth white skin 
of his throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of his chest, his perfect 
musculature no longer merely hinted at behind concealing clothes. He was too perfect, I 
realized with a piercing stab of despair. There was no way this godlike creature could be 
meant for me.
   He stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.
   "Do you want to go home?" he said quietly, a different pain than mine saturating his 
voice.
   "No." I walked forward till I was close beside him, anxious not to waste one second of 
whatever time I might have with him.
   "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.
   "I'm not a good hiker," I answered dully. "You'll have to be very patient."
   "I can be patient — if I make a great effort." He smiled, holding my glance, trying to 
lift me out of my sudden, unexplained dejection.
   I tried to smile back, but the smile was unconvincing. He scrutinized my face.
   "I'll take you home," he promised. I couldn't tell if the promise was unconditional, or 
restricted to an immediate departure. I knew he thought it was fear that upset me, and I 
was grateful again that I was the one person whose mind he couldn't hear.
   "If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown, you'd better 
start leading the way," I said acidly. He frowned at me, struggling to understand my tone 
and expression.
   He gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.
   It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and he held the damp ferns 
and webs of moss aside for me. When his straight path took us over fallen trees or 
boulders, he would help me, lifting me by the elbow, and then releasing me instantly 
when I was clear. His cold touch on my skin never failed to make my heart thud 
erratically. Twice, when that happened, I caught a look on his face that made me sure he 
could somehow hear it.
   I tried to keep my eyes away from his perfection as much as possible, but I slipped 
often. Each time, his beauty pierced me through with sadness.
   For the most part, we walked in silence. Occasionally he would ask a random question 
that he hadn't gotten to in the past two days of interrogation. He asked about my 
birthdays, my grade school teachers, my childhood pets — and I had to admit that after 
killing three fish in a row, I'd given up on the whole institution. He laughed at that, louder 

---

than I was used to — bell-like echoes bouncing back to us from the empty woods.
   The hike took me most of the morning, but he never showed any sign of impatience. 
The forest spread out around us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees, and I began to 
be nervous that we would never find our way out again. He was perfectly at ease, 
comfortable in the green maze, never seeming to feel any doubt about our direction.
   After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky 
olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as he'd foretold. For 
the first time since we'd entered the woods, I felt a thrill of excitement — which quickly 
turned to impatience.
   "Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.
   "Nearly." He smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"
   I peered into the thick forest. "Um, should I?"
   He smirked. "Maybe it's a bit soon for your eyes."
   "Time to visit the optometrist," I muttered. His smirk grew more pronounced.
   But then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a lightening in the trees 
ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness 
growing with every step. He let me lead now, following noiselessly.
   I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into 
the loveliest place I had ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled 
with wildflowers — violet, yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the 
bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze 
of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck, through the soft grass, swaying flowers, 
and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned, wanting to share this with him, but he wasn't 
behind me where I thought he'd be. I spun around, searching for him with sudden alarm. 
Finally I spotted him, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, 
watching me with cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the 
meadow had driven from my mind — the enigma of Edward and the sun, which he'd 
promised to illustrate for me today.
   I took a step back toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes were wary, 
reluctant. I smiled encouragingly and beckoned to him with my hand, taking another step 
back to him. He held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated, rocking back onto my heels.
   Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright glow of 
the midday sun.

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