Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined (Twilight #5)(18)

The doctor’s cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. She noticed when I winced.

“Tender?” she asked.

“Not really.” I’d had worse.

I heard a low laugh, and looked over to see Edythe smiling.

“Well, your father is in the waiting room—you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all.”

“Can’t I go back to school?” I asked, imagining Charlie trying to play nurse.

“Maybe you should take it easy today.”

I glanced at Edythe. “Does she get to go to school?”

“Someone has to spread the good news that we survived,” Edythe said blithely.

“Actually,” Dr. Cullen corrected, “most of the school seems to be in the waiting room.”

“Ugh,” I moaned.

Dr. Cullen raised her eyebrows. “Do you want to stay?”

“No, no!” I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly—I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. She was sturdier than she looked.

“I’m fine,” I assured her again. No need to explain that my balance problems had nothing to do with hitting my head.

“Take some Tylenol for the pain,” she suggested as she steadied me.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” I insisted.

“It sounds like you were extremely lucky,” Dr. Cullen said, smiling as she signed my chart with a flourish.

“Lucky Edythe just happened to be standing next to me,” I amended, shooting another glance at the subject of my statement.

“Oh, well, yes,” Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of her. Then she looked away, at Taylor, and walked to the next bed. It made me sure the doctor was in on it.

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to stay with us just a little bit longer,” she said to Taylor, and began checking her cuts.

As soon as the doctor’s back was turned, I moved to Edythe’s side.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I whispered under my breath. She took a step back from me, her jaw suddenly clenched.

“Your father is waiting for you,” she said through her teeth.

I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Taylor.

“I need to speak with you alone,” I pressed.

She glared—but it wasn’t the same as that first day, not nearly as homicidal, so I just waited. After a second, she turned her back and stalked quickly down the long room. Long as my legs are, I nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, she spun around to face me.

“What do you want?” she asked, sounding annoyed. Her eyes were cold.

Her unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with less certainty than I’d planned. “You owe me an explanation,” I reminded her.

“I saved your life—I don’t owe you anything.”

I flinched back from the resentment in her voice. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Beau, you hit your head, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone was cutting.

Her anger only made me more sure that I was right, though. “There’s nothing wrong with my head.”

She turned up the heat of her glare. “What do you want from me, Beau?”

“I want to know the truth,” I said. “I want to know why I’m lying for you.”

“What do you think happened?” she snapped.

It was harder to say the words out loud, where I could hear the crazy. It shook my conviction, but I tried to keep my voice even and calm.

“I know that you weren’t standing next to me—Taylor didn’t see you, either, so it’s not concussion damage. That van was going to crush us both—but it didn’t. It looked like your hands left dents in the side of it—and your shoulders left a dent in the other car, but you’re not hurt at all. The van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up.…” It just kept sounding worse and worse. I couldn’t continue.

She was staring at me, her eyes wide and incredulous. But she couldn’t entirely hide the tension, the defensiveness.

“You think I lifted a van off you?” Her tone questioned my sanity, but there was something off. It was like a line delivered by a skilled actor—so hard to doubt, but at the same time, the frame of the movie screen reminded you nothing was actually real.

I just nodded once.

She smiled, hard and mocking. “Nobody will believe that, you know.”

“I’m not going to tell anybody.”

Surprise flitted across her face, and the smile faded. “Then why does it matter?”

“It matters to me,” I said. “I don’t like to lie—so there’d better be a good reason why I’m doing it.”

“Can’t you just thank me and get over it?”

“Thank you,” I said, and then folded my arms. Waiting.

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“Nope.”

“In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment.”

She scowled at me, and I stared back, thoughts scattered by how beautiful her anger was. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in danger of being totally distracted. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.