Then she grabbed her backpack and went down the stairs. "Elena! Where are you? You're going to be late for school!" The voice drifted faintly up from below.Įlena ran the brush one more time through silky hair and pulled it back with a deep rose ribbon. Her earlier fears had melted away, forgotten. Good enough to eat, she thought, and the mirror showed a girl with a secret smile. She finally chose a pale rose top and white linen shorts combo that made her look like a raspberry sundae. The morning ritual of washing and dressing was soothing, and she dawdled over it, sorting through her new outfits from Paris. Who just now had an unaccustomed scowl on her face and a pinch to her mouth.Ī hot bath and some coffee and I'll calm down, she thought. Elena Gilbert, cool and blond and slender, the fashion trendsetter, the high school senior, the girl every boy wanted and every girl wanted to be. She didn't even glance at the elaborate Victorian mirror above the cherrywood dresser she knew what she'd see. Since when had she, Elena Gilbert, been scared of meeting people? Since when had she been scared of anything ? She stood up and angrily thrust her arms into a red silk kimono. Then, with a sudden gesture, she lifted her head and threw pen and book at the big bay window, where they bounced off harmlessly and landed on the upholstered window seat. She stared at the last line she had written and then shook her head, pen hovering over the small book with the blue velvet cover. Is that why I'm scared? Am I frightened of them?Įlena Gilbert stopped writing. We're supposed to meet in the parking lot before school. Aunt Judith told everyone who called that I had jet lag and was sleeping, but she watched me at dinner with a funny look on her face. Meredith picked up my schedule for me, but I didn't feel like talking to her on the phone. I was too tired yesterday to go to Orientation. And the worst thing is that I feel there's somewhere I do belong, but I just can't find it. This is my bed, my chair, my dresser.īut right now everything looks strange to me, as if I don't belong here. I can look out the window and see the big quince tree Matt and the guys climbed up to crash my birthday slumber party two years ago. This is my same old bedroom, with the scorch mark on the floorboards where Caroline and I tried to sneak cigarettes in 5th grade and nearly choked ourselves. I've never felt so utterly and completely lost. And the most horrible feeling I've ever felt in my life came over me. Just then Aunt Judith let a suitcase crash down on the floor behind me and sighed a huge sigh and said, "We're home." And Margaret laughed. And when Aunt Judith unlocked the door I burst inside and just stood in the hallway listening, expecting to hear Mom coming down the stairs or Dad calling from the den. I ran up the steps and I tried the door and knocked with the knocker. They must have missed me so much."īut even when I saw the house and the empty front porch I still felt that way. I bet they'll be on the front porch or in the living room looking out the window. When we turned onto our street I suddenly thought, "Mom and Dad are waiting for us at home. The day before yesterday, while Aunt Judith and Margaret and I were driving back from the airport, I had such a strange feeling. But that doesn't explain why I feel so scared. I keep telling myself it's just that I'm all messed up from the time difference between France and here. There'sno reason for me to be upset and every reason for me to be happy, but.īut here I am at 5:30 in the morning, awake and scared. Something awful is going to happen today. Some instinct older than civilization was telling her to run, to flee. It was as if those green eyes spoke to some part of her that was buried deep beneath the surface-and that part was screaming "danger" at her. And in that instant she realized that she was frightened. I'm playing with fire, with something I don't understand, she thought suddenly. "Would you like to dance?" she said softly. She had the sudden feeling that he might jerk her to him and kiss her hard, without ever saying a word. Those green eyes darkening, going black with desire. He was still staring at her, drinking her in. Except that actually he didn't look as if he were having a good time he looked stricken, in pain, as if he couldn't take one more minute of this. She could see it in the way he stared at her. Stefan didn't say it, but Elena knew it was what he was thinking. "Are you having a good time?" Elena asked.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |