Tuesday at Forks High School had a different scent: a mixture of saltpeter, humidity, and that electric anticipation that precedes improvised adventures. The group was noisier than usual in the cafeteria, surrounding the table with poorly folded maps and an energy that contrasted with the ash-gray sky looming over the town.
"La Push, guys! Tomorrow is the day!" Eric exclaimed, hitting the table with enthusiasm. "Waves, a bonfire, and with any luck, a bit of sun."
I sat next to Mike and Tyler, leaving my tray on the table. Bella, as usual, stepped away for a moment to get her "rabbit lunch"—a salad that looked more like a penance than a meal. As she walked away, my gaze followed her by instinct, and I saw him: Edward Cullen was there, standing near the salad bar, intercepting her with that predatory elegance that disturbed me so much. They seemed to be in the middle of a tense conversation, or perhaps just one of those cryptic chats they often had.
"What about you, Mael?" Mike asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Are you getting in the water or just drawing the sand?"
"If there are boards, I'm in," I replied, turning toward him. "But I don't have gear."
"Don't worry about that. Stop by my old man's shop this afternoon after school. We have plenty of wetsuits and boards. I'll give you a friend discount," Mike said, thumping his chest.
I accepted the offer. The rest of lunch passed between laughter and plans. I watched Bella return to the table with an absent expression; her mind was clearly still on the conversation with Edward. I just hoped the sea air would clear her head.
In the afternoon, we kept the promise. We stopped by the Newtons' shop, loaded the gear into the cars, and set off toward the Quileute reservation. The road to La Push was a tunnel of gigantic trees covered in moss that seemed to want to devour the asphalt.
Upon arriving at First Beach, the landscape was breathtaking. Tree trunks bleached by the sea lay like the bones of giants on the dark sand, and the roar of the waves crashing against the rocks was a wild melody that made my blue "spark" vibrate with intensity.
We stopped near the logs to change. I stripped off my sweater and shirt, remaining only in shorts to put on the full neoprene wetsuit. As I struggled with the tight rubber, I felt a familiar pressure: Jessica and Angela's eyes were pinned to my torso. Whispers and giggles escaped from their direction, analyzing my abs, which were marked by the training of the last few days. I brushed them off with an indifferent gesture; my mind was on the water, not on school flirting.
"Mael! Bella!" a youthful voice called to us.
It was Jacob Black, accompanied by two friends, Quil and Embry. The three wore loose t-shirts and shorts, with long hair and a vibe reminiscent of seventies hippies, but with a physical robustness that didn't fit the stereotype.
Jacob approached Bella with a radiant smile, but before he could say anything, I stepped in front of him. I stared at him, pointing to my eyes and then pointing at him with a slow gesture. I'm watching you, kid, was the silent message.
"Don't worry, Jacob," I heard Bella say behind me, letting out a giggle. "It's just Mael being Mael. It's his way of saying 'hello'."
Jacob let out a nervous but friendly laugh while I took my board and headed toward the shore.
The water at La Push wasn't cold; it was freezing. It was as if thousands of ice needles tried to penetrate the neoprene as soon as my feet touched the foam. Mike reached me, paddling on his board.
"Have you ever done this, Mael?" he asked, looking at the gray waves rising like walls.
"Never. But I learn fast," I replied, fastening the leash to my ankle.
Mike gave me some basic lessons on how to position my body, how to read the crest of the wave, and the exact moment to stand up. The first thirty minutes were a disaster of falls and tumbles in the salt water. I hit the sandy bottom and swallowed more water than I'd like to admit.
But after an hour of failed attempts, the rhythm began to flow. My senses, sharpened by my mental practices, began to predict the movement of the water. I managed to stand up and keep my balance on a small wave, feeling the speed under my feet. I already looked like an average surfer, or at least one who wasn't going to die trying.
However, the cold began to win the battle. My bones ached and my fingers were going numb despite the suit. That's when a risky idea occurred to me.
"Just a thin layer. Like a second skin," I thought.
I closed my eyes for a second on the board, searching for the energy. I drew out my shield, but not as a sphere; instead, I molded it to surround my body just above the skin, merging with the neoprene. Thanks to my expansion and compression training, I managed to keep it just a few millimeters away. The result was immediate: the cold stopped biting. The water leaking into the suit stopped feeling freezing, and my body temperature stabilized. It was like wearing an invisible heater.
As I rode a long, steady wave, I spotted the shore. Jacob and Bella were walking along the beach, immersed in a deep conversation. Further off, Angela screamed as Eric chased her with what looked like a snake—or perhaps just a very realistic piece of kelp. Everything looked like a normal teen movie, but I knew that nothing in this place was ordinary.
I decided to get out of the water. I had been in there a long time, and the rest of the group was already gathering around the small bonfire they had lit. I walked out of the sea with the board under my arm, feeling strangely powerful. The water slid off my invisible shield before even touching the ground.
I walked toward Bella and Jacob, feeling the cold sand beneath my feet as a reminder that, although I could control energy, I was still part of this wild world.
The night at La Push had left a mark of salt and mystery in my bones. When I got home, the silence was almost solid. Bella slipped into her room with that glassy look of someone who has too many puzzle pieces and none of them fit, closing the door with a definitive click. I collapsed on the living room sofa, turning on the TV just to have background noise to camouflage the real work my mind was doing.
I closed my eyes and searched for the blue spark. This time, instead of expanding it outward like a bubble, I tried something I had been ruminating on during the bus ride: the second skin. I visualized the energy seeping through my pores, not as an explosion, but as a varnish. I compacted it millimeter by millimeter until I felt constant pressure over every inch of my body. It was exhausting; maintaining such a dense and close structure required a mental micro-management that made my temples throb.
At midnight, I got up to go to the kitchen. The lemon pie I had made earlier rested on the counter. I cut two generous slices; the meringue was firm and the citrus aroma helped clear the fog in my head. I went upstairs and knocked softly on Bella's door.
"Come in," she said with an absent voice.
As I entered, I saw her surrounded by books and with Charlie's laptop open. On the screen, articles about Quileute legends and genealogy flickered. She looked like a private investigator on the verge of a breakdown. I set the plate beside her.
"A brain that doesn't eat doesn't think, Bells," I told her softly. She looked at me, gave me a tired smile, and nodded, diving back into the screen. I left her with her ghosts, not knowing that mine were about to become much more real.
Friday dawned with a miracle: Sun. In Forks, the sun is not a weather condition; it's a social event. At school, the cafeteria was deserted because everyone had flocked to the grass to absorb every ultraviolet ray as if they were human solar panels.
I sat at a secluded table with my sketchbook. I began to trace the lines of a girl—Jessica, probably—whose face was tilted toward the sky with an expression of almost religious adoration. As my charcoal moved, my ears, now more sensitive, caught the conversation at the next table.
"It's typical of the Cullens," Jessica was saying in an annoyed tone. "As soon as the sun comes out, they disappear. Dr. Cullen takes them camping or something. They always miss the best days."
I already knew. That same morning, a message from Esme had reached me: "Mael, we'll take advantage of the good weather for a family outing. You have the day off at the studio. See you next week."
Angela arrived shortly after, radiant. "Bella! I followed your advice. I invited Eric to the dance and... he said yes!" she exclaimed, hugging her books to her chest. But then her face fell. "Are you sure you can't come? Do you really have to go to Jacksonville?"
"Yes, Angela. It's a family thing... you know how my mother is," Bella lied with a fluency that made me smile to myself. It was a clumsy lie, an expert-level evasion tactic to avoid having to deal with the spring dance.
"We're going to Port Angeles this afternoon to look for dresses," Jessica announced. "Bella, you're coming with us. We need your opinion."
I looked at Bella. She knew as much about fashion as I did about applied nuclear physics. She was a practical woman: jeans, plaid shirts, and comfortable shoes. Seeing her advising on party dresses was going to be a comedy show, but she accepted, probably to avoid raising more suspicion about her "trip."
At the last minute, I decided I would go too. I needed oils and specific brushes that the small stationery shop in Forks didn't have. "I'll take the Chevy," I told them when we met in the parking lot. "See you there."
I parked the truck near a plaza bordered by old brick buildings. The air was saltier here, more alive. As I walked toward the art store, my mind was still in "practice mode." Without realizing it, I could already expand my shield to more than a meter away with a simple blink of will, and I even managed to project small force fields independent of my body, like invisible discs that floated for a few seconds.
I passed by the boutique and saw Bella through the glass. She was sitting in a velvet chair, with a face of absolute discomfort while Jessica and Angela tried on dresses that looked three sizes smaller than necessary. I waved to her, indicating I was going to buy my supplies. She nodded with relief.
I bought what I needed: canvases, tubes of paint, and a set of German charcoals. When I came out, the sun had set, giving way to a bluish, cold twilight. I texted Bella: Where are you?
Leaving the bookstore on the corner. See you at the port, she replied.
But when I got to the bookstore, she wasn't there. A shiver that had nothing to do with the weather ran down my spine. I started walking through the side streets, picking up the pace. Turning a corner into a poorly lit alley, I saw her. Four guys, obviously drunk and with a malice that stank for miles, had her cornered.
"Come on, baby, we just want to chat," one said, getting too close.
I was about to lunge when a screech of tires broke the silence. A silver Volvo appeared out of nowhere, stopping millimeters from the guys. Edward Cullen got out of the car, with a cold fury that seemed to freeze the air. "Get in the car," he ordered Bella. She, pale as wax, obeyed immediately.
Edward gave them a snarl—a sound that wasn't human—and got back in the car, making a sharp maneuver to get out of there. But I didn't move. I approached the guys who were laughing, trying to regain their "dignity" after being scared by the car.
"Are you guys okay?" I asked in a dangerously calm voice.
"Yeah, yeah... that nutjob almost ran us over," said the leader, adjusting his jacket. "We just wanted to help the girl."
"Help, huh?" I repeated.
I didn't think. I didn't use my powers to hit, just my own physical strength. I landed a punch directly on his septum that sounded like a dry branch snapping. To the second one, I delivered a kick to the stomach that left him breathless. The other two lunged at me. I took a couple of hits to the ribs and one to the cheek, but thanks to the second skin I had active, the impact was distributed. I didn't feel physical pain, but the mental stress of maintaining the barrier under attack made me sweat.
I finished them in less than a minute. They were on the ground, groaning. I was about to turn around when I heard a slow clap.
From the shadows at the back of the alley, a man emerged. He was extremely handsome, with a paleness that made the Cullens look tanned, and eyes of a crimson red that glowed with a malignant light of their own.
"Quite a fight for just a mortal," he said in a silky voice that made my hair stand on end.
He looked like them, but there was a fundamental difference: this guy emanated a bloodlust that felt like a physical weight. This wasn't Carlisle's courtesy or Esme's kindness. This was a monster.
"They messed with my sister," I said, trying to back away discreetly. "They got what they were looking for."
"A little pain doesn't hurt," he replied. In a blink, at a speed my eye could barely follow, he crouched over one of the guys on the ground, lifted him by the neck like he was a rag doll, and sank his teeth into his throat.
The sound of the suction and the man's muffled scream froze my blood. Crap. This isn't normal. Run, Mael. Run.
I turned and ran like never before in my life. I crossed streets and jumped fences, feeling like my heart was going to burst. When I thought I had lost him, I stopped in a vacant lot behind some factories to catch my breath.
Suddenly, something hit me in the side with the force of a truck. I went flying through the air and slammed into a brick wall with an impact that would have pulverized every bone in a normal human being. I fell to the ground, my head throbbing furiously.
I got up, staggering. The red-eyed guy was there, standing a few meters away, looking at me with scientific curiosity. "What... what are you?" I managed to articulate. "Why are you chasing me?"
"I'm just curious about you," he said, approaching slowly. "How did you survive that hit without being left in pain on the ground? It's... fascinating."
He lunged again. I tried to dodge, but he kicked me in the chest, knocking the air out of me. My shield held, but the pressure on my mind became unbearable. It was as if a hammer was striking my brain from the inside every time he touched me.
He approached and grabbed me by the neck with one hand, lifting me into the air. His fingers were like steel pincers. "Not even a scratch," he whispered, sniffing my neck. "And your blood... beneath that skin... it smells exquisite."
He opened his mouth, revealing his teeth, and bit.
The pain in my head was so intense that I saw white. A harrowing scream escaped my throat and, in an act of pure survival instinct, I released all the energy of my shield in an expansive wave outward. The force pushed the monster several meters back, making him crash into a metal container.
I fell to my knees, my vision blurred and blood streaming from my nose. I saw him get up, brushing the dust off his jacket and laughing. A deranged laugh.
"So you have a gift," he said, his red eyes glowing with greed. "You would be a powerful vampire. A very fun toy."
He lunged again at a blurred speed. He grabbed me by the neck again, his face inches from mine. "Just let me bite you. You'll thank me later."
Panic flooded me, but in the midst of the fear, a cold and lethal idea crystallized in my mind. If I couldn't keep him out, I would destroy him from within. I knew the Cullens were "perfect," but this guy... this guy was a vampire, like in the nightmares.
I concentrated with every fiber of my being. I ignored the headache, I ignored the lack of air. I visualized the vampire, not as a being, but as a container. At the moment his lips opened to tear my flesh, I channeled all my psychic energy into a tiny point right in the center of his chest, beneath his marble skin.
"EXPAND!" I screamed in my mind.
I created a tiny shield inside his body and, with an effort I felt was going to kill me, I expanded it violently outward.
There was a dry sound, like a stone shattering. The vampire's body was torn apart from the inside, split in half by the force of my force field. I fell to my knees, screaming from the effort, blood from my nose staining my shirt and my vision tinted red.
I lay on the dirty ground, surrounded by remains that looked like marble or granite, gasping for air. My head was a mass of pulsing pain. Half an hour later, I managed to get up. I approached the remains. The vampire's torso was still moving; his red eyes still looked at me with eternal hatred.
"We're not done yet," I growled.
I created a blade of energy over my hand, as sharp and flat as a light scalpel. With a sharp movement, I cut the air over his neck. The head went rolling across the pavement.
I stood there, victorious but shattered. I knew I couldn't leave a trace. I dragged the pieces—which weighed like stones—to a metal trash can. I went to a nearby convenience store, hood up to hide my bloodied face, bought a lighter, and returned.
I threw the flame onto the remains. To my surprise, the body burned with an unnatural speed, as if it were dry incense, consuming itself to ashes in a matter of minutes.
I retrieved my things from the alley and walked slowly toward the Chevy, feeling every heartbeat as a drumbeat in my brain. I started the engine and headed for Forks.