After a long hiatus, Chapter 9!
Jun. 13th, 2009 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perpetual_motionI had a fantastic dinner tonight, including a glass of wine and a sloe gin fizz [absolutely glorious if you can find a bar that makes one.] So, I'm gonna try to get through "Twilight", chapter 9. Booster and Beetle up in my icon are preemptively laughing at my snark. Hope the rest of you feel the same at the end of this.
If you need to have a reminder, here's the second part of my chapter 8 snark. Short version: It was more important for Bella to calm down Edward from his murderous rage than for Edward to make sure that Bella was okay after almost getting violently attacked by four dudes.
Oh, and Bella's not in shock because she's good at repressing things.
The drinking game thus far:
Grammar fuckery? Drink.
Rule five violation? Drink.
Charlie-bashing? Drink.
Small-town bashing? Drink.
Specialist Snowflake spotting? Drink.
Someone acts like a stalker? Drink.
Interactions between Edward and Bella make you think of the Cycle of Violence (CoV)? Drink.
Chapter 9 is titled "Theory", and given that Bella's already decided [based on no actual logical evidence] that Edward is a vampire, and that she's cool with Edward reading people's minds to stalk her, this should be fun.
Wait. Before we get to Chapter 9, you have to see this hot mess from the end of chapter 8:
He opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I watched him walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful he was. I probably should have been used to that by now — but I wasn't. I had a feeling Edward wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.
Pardon me. ::vomit::
"Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edward accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.
She's more concerned with asking questions about his supposed-vampirism than in the fact that he's DRIVING LIKE A MANIAC. That's some standards, there.
"Well… you said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just
wondering how you knew that."
He DIDN'T say that. Glad to see the lack of continuity continues on apace.
"Fine, then. I followed your scent." He looked at the road, giving me time to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but I filed it carefully away for future study.
"...filed it carefully away"? Look, we all know Bella's got all the brains of a weather-warped two-by-four, but "filed it carefully away? Really? That's a rule five. Drink!
"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" I stalled.
He looked at me with disapproval. "Which one?"
He looked at her with disapproval? Bet she creamed her jeans.
"How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly, asking for clarification on make-believe.
WHAT. Bella, you spent the better part of chapter 7 feeling that VAMPIRISM was a LOGICAL CONCLUSION to the IMAGINARY EVIDENCE you MADE UP. And you consider MIND-READING make believe?
"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles."
So, Edward's bitchin' vampire, mind-reading skills have less range than a submarine sonar? Yeah, he's a badass all right.
And why is there an ellipses before "voice"? Also, that's the wrong kind of quotes on "voice". Drink up! [For the record: When using a word to say the word in a sentence, you use regular quotes. One line quotes [like around "voice" in the excerpt] are used for quoting someone within a piece of dialogue ["And she said to me, 'I fucking hate that "Twilight" book', and I totally agreed with her."]]
It's just a hum—-a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.
Hello, grammar-fuckery! That's improper use of an em dash [drink], and then Edward's focusing on "one voice" and "they're thinking" is clear. That's mixing a single subject with a plural predicate. Drink!
"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal" — he frowned as he said the word — "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."
Drink for each of those em dashes. And Edward's like, a hundred, right? And he hasn't figured out how to learn the difference between thoughts and spoken words in those hundred years? Christ on a crutch, Edward is fucking LAME you guys. I mean REALLY.
"Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked curiously.
Because there's nothing to hear in a vacuum, Bella. [The Husband would like it noted that the ONLY WAY YOU ASK A QUESTION IS CURIOUSLY. And he calls a Rule Five. Drink.]
"I don't know," he murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned at me, suddenly amused.
He's just realized that the answer is actually that Bella DOESN'T THINK.
"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me more than they should — probably
because his speculation hit home. I'd always suspected as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.
How is it EMBARRASSING, Bella? You fucking THRIVE on being the SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE in the whole damned UNIVERSE. Drink!
[The Husband: "He just called you stupid! Why shouldn't those words hurt?"]
I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. I happened to notice the speedometer.
"Holy crow!" I shouted. "Slow down!"
First: "Holy crow"? REALLY? Who the fuck says this? Second: How can she be surprised by the speed of the car when SHE MENTIONED IT AT THE BEGINNING OF THE CHAPTER?
"Relax, Bella." He rolled his eyes, still not slowing.
"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded.
We can hope.
"We're not going to crash."
I tried to modulate my voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"
"I always drive like this." He turned to smile crookedly at me.
"Modulate"? Seriously? Seriously, where are the seventeen-year-olds who talk like this, and how EPIC are the wedgies they must get?
So then Edward says he's never been in an accident [possibly, sure] and he's also never gotten a ticket [WHAT] because his special mind-reading skills let him hear cops coming [WHAT], and then Bella tells him that since Charlie's a cop, she's been raised to, and this is a direct quote:
abide by traffic laws
WHAT? No, honey, you've been raised "not to speed" or "break laws". WHO THE FUCK SAYS ABIDE. Also, apparently Charlie is a complete loser, but Bella will pay attention to TRAFFIC LAWS because Charlie RAISED HER UP TO ABIDE BY THEM. But Charlie wasn't around much, remember? At the beginning of the book? When she...::headdesk:: Nevermind. Carry on.
"Very funny." I fumed. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."
"Probably," he agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." He sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"
"Almost."
"I hate driving slow," he muttered.
Edward's more concerned about having to DRIVE SLOWLY than in the fact that BELLA COULD DIE if he runs off the road. Not a CoV moment [quite], but definitely a douchebag moment.
"This is slow?"
"Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped.
SHUT UP BELLA. THE MAN DOES NOT FIND YOU FUNNY.
"I won't laugh," he promised.
"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."
"Is it that bad?"
Is it that...is it THAT BAD?! So, let me see if I've got this: Bella thinks her theory will MAKE EDWARD MAD, and Edward thinks there's a theory BAD ENOUGH TO MAKE HIM MAD. Scared your opinion will make your partner mad? That's CoV! Drink!
He waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see his expression. "Go ahead." His voice was calm.
Go ahead, Bella. You got PERMISSION.
Oh, by the way, Edward wants to know Bella's theories on what he is. And he says she said she didn't get there on her own. Edward obviously thinks as much of Bella's brainpower as the rest of us.
"What got you started — a book? A movie?" he probed.
WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE EM DASH? OR AT LEAST TAKE A DRINK FOR IT?
"I ran into an old family friend —Jacob Black," I continued. "His dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."
WHY THE EM DASH. DRINK.
"We went for a walk —" I edited all my scheming out of the story "— and he was telling me some old
legends — trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…" I hesitated.
Scheming? You mean Bella talking about how she just COULDN'T FLIRT WITH BOYS BECAUSE IT WAS WEIRD and then got all butthurt when THREE DIFFERENT GUYS asked her to a dance? THAT SCHEMING?
So Bella tells Edward that Jacob said Edward and his family are vampires, and when Edward starts to show signs of anger, BELLA TAKES ALL THE BLAME.
And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different.
Um, Bella? The boy said the Cullens don't come TO THE BEACH. And, Meyer? Since you made such a BIG FUCKING DEAL about talking about how the Native Americans came FROM THE RESERVATION TO THE BEACH, I would think YOU'D REMEMBER THAT.
"I tried to flirt — it worked better than I thought it would." Disbelief colored my tone as I remembered.
Because, of course, Bella is so AWKWARD and SPECIAL that she can't IMAGINE HERSELF FLIRTING. OMG you guys, it must be SO TOUGH to be Bella.
[The Husband: "Also, 'disbelief colored my tone?' Really?"]
"I'd like to have seen that." He chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of dazzling people — poor Jacob Black."
::vomit:: And that's a SPECIAL SNOWFLAKE because, of course, Edward can see how DAZZLING Bella is. Fuck, I'd make "dazzling" part of the drinking game, but you lot would be sauced in about three pages.
So then Bella tells Edward that she's done research on the internets [a completely TRUSTWORTHY source of info, yes?], and Bella tells him she's decided IT DOESN'T MATTER.
"It didn't matter?" His tone made me look up — I had finally broken through his carefully composed
mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger I'd feared.
But it's OKAY that he's mad, everyone. Because Bella WUVS HIM.
A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!"
Or a pedophile! Or a douche!
"You're angry," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know what you're thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane."
"So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.
"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" he quoted, gritting his teeth together.
"I'm right?" I gasped.
HOW IS SHE SURPRISED BY THIS? She decided Edward was a vampire, on NO EVIDENCE, TWO CHAPTERS AGO.
He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen," he answered promptly.
"And how long have you been seventeen?"
His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at last.
Picture this read as a chat transcript as read by Chris Hansen on "Dateline". I'm not sure it actually makes it creepier.
He stared down at me with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he was worried I would go into shock.
First: WATCH THE ROAD YOU DOUCHE. Second: Let us remember that Edward worried about her going into shock HALF AN HOUR OR MORE AFTER SHE WAS NEARLY VIOLENTLY ATTACKED. Because, immediately post-attack, it was more important to CALM DOWN EDWARD'S MURDEROUS RAGE.
So then Bella starts asking more questions. List of things that are a myth in Meyer's world:
Sun kills vampires
Sleeping in coffins
And Edward tells Bella he doesn't sleep at all. And then prods her into asking about the blood thing:
"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice was hard now, and when he looked
at me again his eyes were cold.
I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"
"You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.
"Oh," I murmured, "that."
"Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"
Christ. Edward sounds EXACTLY like all the passive shitheads I knew in high school who got attention by walking into a conversation, sighing loudly, and looking all depressed and HORRIBLY CONFLICTED. KILL YOURSELF EMO KID.
"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned me. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."
"I don't understand."
Of course you don't, Bella. Because "stay away from me because I'm dangerous" translates in your empty head into "OMG HUMP ME NOW".
"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes.
Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."
"This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know if he could as well.
"A very dangerous one," he murmured.
Don't worry, girls; if a boy tells you it's dangerous to be around him, nothing bad will happen, because HE WUVS YOU. Because YOU'RE SPECIAL.
[The Husband: "That sounds rapey."]
I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road.
Quite a trick with those headlights. I didn't know headlights could TWIST. That's rule five. Take a drink.
I was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to be with him like this again — openly, the walls between us gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with him.
"walls between us gone for once". Bella, you've had HALF A DOZEN CONVERSATIONS WITH THIS DOUCHEBAG. THERE WERE NO WALLS JUST YOUR INSISTENCE TO BUTT YOUR FUCKING NOSE IN.
"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice still tinged with desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the grief that was trying to overpower me.
That's right, at the merest idea that the dangerous crazy bastard you want to bang doesn't want to be around you because HE KNOWS HE'S DANGEROUS, you should feel GRIEF.
So Edward explains that drinking from animals holds back the hunger most of the time, but if he's hungry and near someone, it can get iffy. Boy, Bella, how can you NOT love the guy who, WHEN HUNGRY, MIGHT KILL YOU.
"But you're not hungry now," I said confidently — stating, not asking.
Em Dash abuse, letting us know that "confidently" means "stating" something when it could be shown with a simple period? Double grammar drink!
I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people — men in particular — are crabbier when they're hungry."
Wow. "men in particular"? REALLY? I don't know about you lot, but if I'm hungry, I'll shove you down a sewer drain to get to a sandwich. And I have a VAGINA.
[The Husband: "Layin' on the allegorya little thick there, eh, Meyer?"]
He chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"
No, Edward, she's not. An observant person would have picked up on the dozens of times you've said you're dangerous and RUN IN THE OTHER FUCKING DIRECTION.
Oh, god, you guys, you're about to vomit on your shoes. Edward talks about how he spent his whole weekend hunting for food, and how he was distracted the whole time because he couldn't be there to KEEP BELLA SAFE. And how he was SERIOUS when he told her NOT TO FALL INTO THE OCEAN. Because he WOULDN'T BE THERE TO SAVE HER.
I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." He shook his head, and then
seemed to remember something. "Well, not totally unscathed."
"What?"
"Your hands," he reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the almost-healed scrapes across the heels of my hands. His eyes missed nothing.
"I fell," I sighed.
This is not an exaggeration: If my husband shit himself over SCRAPES ON MY HANDS like Edward is doing to Bella, I would DIVORCE HIM. But, of course, in Meyer's world, if there's not a penis to take account of EVERY TINY SCRAPE AND BRUISE, you are WORTHLESS.
"That's what I thought." His lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse — and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away.
MAKE THAT EM DASH A COMMA AND DRINK FOR FUCK'S SAKE. And Edward? You are a condescending douchebag with an undescribed face. DIE.
"Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated, almost angry as I thought of how much
disappointment I had suffered because of his absence.
I'm frustrated that lack of her preferred dick in the same room, a) makes her WALLOW and b) that women BUY INTO THIS SHIT.
"You might have called me," I decided.
HE BARELY FUCKING KNOWS YOU, YOU CLINGY, CO-DEPENDENT BINT.
He was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."
"But I didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.
"What?" His velvety voice was compelling.
"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." I blushed to be saying this out loud.
TAKE A DRINK. RIGHT NOW. FUCK THE RULES. SOMETHING THIS SHITTY AND CO-DEPENDENT NEEDS ALCOHOL.
"Don't you see, Bella? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved." He turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for me to understand. "I don't want to hear that you feel that way." His voice was low but urgent. His words cut me. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Bella — please, grasp that."
"No." I tried very hard not to look like a sulky child.
"I'm serious," he growled.
"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."
Dear parents of young women who think this tripe is perfectly fine for your daughters to read:
Best of luck when they bring home douchebag after douchebag because "He reminds me of Edward". Just remember that I FUCKING CALLED IT.
His voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."
I bit my lip and was glad he couldn't know how much that hurt.
Don't want your partner to see that you're hurt by something that's been said? CoV! Drink!
I stared out at the road. We must be close now.
Wow. It took 12 pages [in .pdf format] to get to verb tense fuckery! Have a drink!
"Are you crying?" He sounded appalled. I hadn't realized the moisture in my eyes had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.
WOW. In order:
"the moisture in my eyes". REALLY?
"traitor tears" OH MY GOD SHUT UP.
"were there, betraying me" KILL YOURSELF BELLA. REALLY.
[Sidenote: Traitor Tears Betraying Me would be kind of a cool band name.]
"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your
expression — you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on
something."
"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker — you know, self-defense. I was going to
smash his nose into his brain." I thought of the dark-haired man with a surge of hate.
Meyer, suck it hard, yeah? Much like saying Shakespeare was a misogynist doesn't make you LESS OF A MISOGYNIST, saying that Bella WOULD HAVE DEFENDED HERSELF is not the same as BELLA DEFENDING HERSELF.
"You were going to fight them?" This upset him. "Didn't you think about running?"
"I fall down a lot when I run," I admitted.
SO SHE DIDN'T TRY YOU GUYS. BECAUSE SHE MIGHT HAVE FALLEN DOWN.
"What about screaming for help?"
"I was getting to that part."
No you weren't, you lying cunt. You CONSIDERED screaming, and then you DECIDED that your throat was TOO DRY so you DIDN'T TRY.
He shook his head. "You were right — I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."
Let it go, Edward. Just LET IT GO.
"Do you promise to be there tomorrow?"
"I promise."
Because, if he's not, she'll feel DESPAIR. My god, how is she going to handle WHOLE WEEKENDS WITHOUT HIS MAGIC COCK?
[The Husband: "Because if he's not, I swear to god I'll kill myself."]
"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.
I handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."
"Oh, right." He grinned.
First off, put a period in the place of that poor, abused em dash. Second off, isn't it GREAT that Meyer is encouraging girls to lie to their parents about the boys they like? It's so HEALTHY and SMART. No, wait, it's those other things. The opposite things.
"Bella?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.
For fuck's sake, Meyer, just SAY his tone was serious but hesitant. Watch:
"Bella?" he asked in a tone that was serious but hesitant.
I know you want to fuck every em dash you see but CUT IT THE FUCK OUT.
"Will you promise me something?"
"Yes," I said, and instantly regretted my unconditional agreement. What if he asked me to stay away from him? I couldn't keep that promise.
::vomit::
What is that, three times or four? Not that it matters, really, but I wonder if another chapter will top it.
"Don't go into the woods alone."
I stared at him in blank confusion. "Why?"
He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past me out the window. "I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."
Because giving her a straight answer would lose him MYSTERIOUS SEXY points, and we CAN'T HAVE THAT.
I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in his voice, but I was relieved. This, at least, was an easy promise to honor.
Oh, look, verb tense fuckery! [but I was relieved. This, at least...] Bottoms up!
"Bella?" I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face just inches from mine.
HIS UNDESCRIBED FACE.
Bella goes inside and has a conversation with Charlie where she doesn't immediately think he's useless or stupid [surprising, right?] She does, of course, lie about who dropped her off.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."
"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered what my face looked like.
So do we, Bella. Because Meyer hasn't felt THAT was important enough to describe EITHER.
"I'm just going to call Jessica first."
"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes — but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."
"Well, give her a chance to get home first."
"Right," I agreed.
Wow. Meyer wrote a conversation between Charlie and Bella that didn't make me want to strangle the ho-bag, and she managed to use proper emphasis in Charlie's last sentence. Come clean, Meyer; you sent this scene out to a ghostwriter, didn't you? You scamp.
I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. Get a grip, I told myself.
That's right ladies: If you're nearly violently attacked by four random dudes, don't go into shock. GET A GRIP.
So then Jessica calls before Bella can call her and sounds surprised that Bella got home, but she WASN'T WORRIED ENOUGH TO STAY WITH BELLA IN PORT ANGELES. And Jessica wants details, but Bella doesn't want to give them, and Jessica figures out it's because Bella's dad is around. Because THAT'S HEALTHY, RIGHT?
Also, this is really shitty plot contrivance. Meyer's trying to build suspense in the relationship between Bella and Edward by making it seem SECRET and SNEAKY when Bella could, oh, TELL CHARLIE THE TRUTH because he's never said ANYTHING NEGATIVE ABOUT THE CULLENS SO IS PROBABLY COOL WITH EDWARD.And has totally seen Carlise in the nude. A lot. Because they're having sex.
I went through the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention to what I was doing.
Bella: So fucking stupid she notes when she doesn't pay proper attention to her bedtime routine.
Bella showers, and then gets a wicked case of the chills because she's a dumbass. No, wait, that's not fair. She's a COMPLETE DUMBASS. No, wait, still not right. Wait. I'll have her explain it:
About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of him — and I didn't know how potent that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
About this paragraph I am absolutely positive. First, the first sentence of that paragraph is a shitty fragment that could be easily be rewritten as a proper sentence. Second, Bella finally has confirmation for her COMPLETELY BATSHIT THEORY SHE MADE UP WITH NO EVIDENCE. And third, HOW THE FUCK IS SHE IN LOVE WITH HIM AND HOW IS THIS A POSITIVE ROLE MODEL FOR YOUNG GIRLS? ["Oh, mommy, he says he's dangerous and wants to drink my blood and has murderous rage, and it's LOVE. I KNOW IT.]
And thus ends chapter 9. My buzz has worn off. Perhaps I should read through and play my own drinking game.
If you need to have a reminder, here's the second part of my chapter 8 snark. Short version: It was more important for Bella to calm down Edward from his murderous rage than for Edward to make sure that Bella was okay after almost getting violently attacked by four dudes.
Oh, and Bella's not in shock because she's good at repressing things.
The drinking game thus far:
Grammar fuckery? Drink.
Rule five violation? Drink.
Charlie-bashing? Drink.
Small-town bashing? Drink.
Specialist Snowflake spotting? Drink.
Someone acts like a stalker? Drink.
Interactions between Edward and Bella make you think of the Cycle of Violence (CoV)? Drink.
Chapter 9 is titled "Theory", and given that Bella's already decided [based on no actual logical evidence] that Edward is a vampire, and that she's cool with Edward reading people's minds to stalk her, this should be fun.
Wait. Before we get to Chapter 9, you have to see this hot mess from the end of chapter 8:
He opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I watched him walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful he was. I probably should have been used to that by now — but I wasn't. I had a feeling Edward wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.
Pardon me. ::vomit::
"Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edward accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.
She's more concerned with asking questions about his supposed-vampirism than in the fact that he's DRIVING LIKE A MANIAC. That's some standards, there.
"Well… you said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just
wondering how you knew that."
He DIDN'T say that. Glad to see the lack of continuity continues on apace.
"Fine, then. I followed your scent." He looked at the road, giving me time to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but I filed it carefully away for future study.
"...filed it carefully away"? Look, we all know Bella's got all the brains of a weather-warped two-by-four, but "filed it carefully away? Really? That's a rule five. Drink!
"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" I stalled.
He looked at me with disapproval. "Which one?"
He looked at her with disapproval? Bet she creamed her jeans.
"How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly, asking for clarification on make-believe.
WHAT. Bella, you spent the better part of chapter 7 feeling that VAMPIRISM was a LOGICAL CONCLUSION to the IMAGINARY EVIDENCE you MADE UP. And you consider MIND-READING make believe?
"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles."
So, Edward's bitchin' vampire, mind-reading skills have less range than a submarine sonar? Yeah, he's a badass all right.
And why is there an ellipses before "voice"? Also, that's the wrong kind of quotes on "voice". Drink up! [For the record: When using a word to say the word in a sentence, you use regular quotes. One line quotes [like around "voice" in the excerpt] are used for quoting someone within a piece of dialogue ["And she said to me, 'I fucking hate that "Twilight" book', and I totally agreed with her."]]
It's just a hum—-a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.
Hello, grammar-fuckery! That's improper use of an em dash [drink], and then Edward's focusing on "one voice" and "they're thinking" is clear. That's mixing a single subject with a plural predicate. Drink!
"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal" — he frowned as he said the word — "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."
Drink for each of those em dashes. And Edward's like, a hundred, right? And he hasn't figured out how to learn the difference between thoughts and spoken words in those hundred years? Christ on a crutch, Edward is fucking LAME you guys. I mean REALLY.
"Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked curiously.
Because there's nothing to hear in a vacuum, Bella. [The Husband would like it noted that the ONLY WAY YOU ASK A QUESTION IS CURIOUSLY. And he calls a Rule Five. Drink.]
"I don't know," he murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned at me, suddenly amused.
He's just realized that the answer is actually that Bella DOESN'T THINK.
"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me more than they should — probably
because his speculation hit home. I'd always suspected as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.
How is it EMBARRASSING, Bella? You fucking THRIVE on being the SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE in the whole damned UNIVERSE. Drink!
[The Husband: "He just called you stupid! Why shouldn't those words hurt?"]
I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. I happened to notice the speedometer.
"Holy crow!" I shouted. "Slow down!"
First: "Holy crow"? REALLY? Who the fuck says this? Second: How can she be surprised by the speed of the car when SHE MENTIONED IT AT THE BEGINNING OF THE CHAPTER?
"Relax, Bella." He rolled his eyes, still not slowing.
"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded.
We can hope.
"We're not going to crash."
I tried to modulate my voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"
"I always drive like this." He turned to smile crookedly at me.
"Modulate"? Seriously? Seriously, where are the seventeen-year-olds who talk like this, and how EPIC are the wedgies they must get?
So then Edward says he's never been in an accident [possibly, sure] and he's also never gotten a ticket [WHAT] because his special mind-reading skills let him hear cops coming [WHAT], and then Bella tells him that since Charlie's a cop, she's been raised to, and this is a direct quote:
abide by traffic laws
WHAT? No, honey, you've been raised "not to speed" or "break laws". WHO THE FUCK SAYS ABIDE. Also, apparently Charlie is a complete loser, but Bella will pay attention to TRAFFIC LAWS because Charlie RAISED HER UP TO ABIDE BY THEM. But Charlie wasn't around much, remember? At the beginning of the book? When she...::headdesk:: Nevermind. Carry on.
"Very funny." I fumed. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."
"Probably," he agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." He sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"
"Almost."
"I hate driving slow," he muttered.
Edward's more concerned about having to DRIVE SLOWLY than in the fact that BELLA COULD DIE if he runs off the road. Not a CoV moment [quite], but definitely a douchebag moment.
"This is slow?"
"Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped.
SHUT UP BELLA. THE MAN DOES NOT FIND YOU FUNNY.
"I won't laugh," he promised.
"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."
"Is it that bad?"
Is it that...is it THAT BAD?! So, let me see if I've got this: Bella thinks her theory will MAKE EDWARD MAD, and Edward thinks there's a theory BAD ENOUGH TO MAKE HIM MAD. Scared your opinion will make your partner mad? That's CoV! Drink!
He waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see his expression. "Go ahead." His voice was calm.
Go ahead, Bella. You got PERMISSION.
Oh, by the way, Edward wants to know Bella's theories on what he is. And he says she said she didn't get there on her own. Edward obviously thinks as much of Bella's brainpower as the rest of us.
"What got you started — a book? A movie?" he probed.
WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE EM DASH? OR AT LEAST TAKE A DRINK FOR IT?
"I ran into an old family friend —Jacob Black," I continued. "His dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."
WHY THE EM DASH. DRINK.
"We went for a walk —" I edited all my scheming out of the story "— and he was telling me some old
legends — trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…" I hesitated.
Scheming? You mean Bella talking about how she just COULDN'T FLIRT WITH BOYS BECAUSE IT WAS WEIRD and then got all butthurt when THREE DIFFERENT GUYS asked her to a dance? THAT SCHEMING?
So Bella tells Edward that Jacob said Edward and his family are vampires, and when Edward starts to show signs of anger, BELLA TAKES ALL THE BLAME.
And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different.
Um, Bella? The boy said the Cullens don't come TO THE BEACH. And, Meyer? Since you made such a BIG FUCKING DEAL about talking about how the Native Americans came FROM THE RESERVATION TO THE BEACH, I would think YOU'D REMEMBER THAT.
"I tried to flirt — it worked better than I thought it would." Disbelief colored my tone as I remembered.
Because, of course, Bella is so AWKWARD and SPECIAL that she can't IMAGINE HERSELF FLIRTING. OMG you guys, it must be SO TOUGH to be Bella.
[The Husband: "Also, 'disbelief colored my tone?' Really?"]
"I'd like to have seen that." He chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of dazzling people — poor Jacob Black."
::vomit:: And that's a SPECIAL SNOWFLAKE because, of course, Edward can see how DAZZLING Bella is. Fuck, I'd make "dazzling" part of the drinking game, but you lot would be sauced in about three pages.
So then Bella tells Edward that she's done research on the internets [a completely TRUSTWORTHY source of info, yes?], and Bella tells him she's decided IT DOESN'T MATTER.
"It didn't matter?" His tone made me look up — I had finally broken through his carefully composed
mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger I'd feared.
But it's OKAY that he's mad, everyone. Because Bella WUVS HIM.
A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!"
Or a pedophile! Or a douche!
"You're angry," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know what you're thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane."
"So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.
"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" he quoted, gritting his teeth together.
"I'm right?" I gasped.
HOW IS SHE SURPRISED BY THIS? She decided Edward was a vampire, on NO EVIDENCE, TWO CHAPTERS AGO.
He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen," he answered promptly.
"And how long have you been seventeen?"
His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at last.
Picture this read as a chat transcript as read by Chris Hansen on "Dateline". I'm not sure it actually makes it creepier.
He stared down at me with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he was worried I would go into shock.
First: WATCH THE ROAD YOU DOUCHE. Second: Let us remember that Edward worried about her going into shock HALF AN HOUR OR MORE AFTER SHE WAS NEARLY VIOLENTLY ATTACKED. Because, immediately post-attack, it was more important to CALM DOWN EDWARD'S MURDEROUS RAGE.
So then Bella starts asking more questions. List of things that are a myth in Meyer's world:
Sun kills vampires
Sleeping in coffins
And Edward tells Bella he doesn't sleep at all. And then prods her into asking about the blood thing:
"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice was hard now, and when he looked
at me again his eyes were cold.
I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"
"You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.
"Oh," I murmured, "that."
"Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"
Christ. Edward sounds EXACTLY like all the passive shitheads I knew in high school who got attention by walking into a conversation, sighing loudly, and looking all depressed and HORRIBLY CONFLICTED. KILL YOURSELF EMO KID.
"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned me. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."
"I don't understand."
Of course you don't, Bella. Because "stay away from me because I'm dangerous" translates in your empty head into "OMG HUMP ME NOW".
"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes.
Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."
"This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know if he could as well.
"A very dangerous one," he murmured.
Don't worry, girls; if a boy tells you it's dangerous to be around him, nothing bad will happen, because HE WUVS YOU. Because YOU'RE SPECIAL.
[The Husband: "That sounds rapey."]
I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road.
Quite a trick with those headlights. I didn't know headlights could TWIST. That's rule five. Take a drink.
I was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to be with him like this again — openly, the walls between us gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with him.
"walls between us gone for once". Bella, you've had HALF A DOZEN CONVERSATIONS WITH THIS DOUCHEBAG. THERE WERE NO WALLS JUST YOUR INSISTENCE TO BUTT YOUR FUCKING NOSE IN.
"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice still tinged with desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the grief that was trying to overpower me.
That's right, at the merest idea that the dangerous crazy bastard you want to bang doesn't want to be around you because HE KNOWS HE'S DANGEROUS, you should feel GRIEF.
So Edward explains that drinking from animals holds back the hunger most of the time, but if he's hungry and near someone, it can get iffy. Boy, Bella, how can you NOT love the guy who, WHEN HUNGRY, MIGHT KILL YOU.
"But you're not hungry now," I said confidently — stating, not asking.
Em Dash abuse, letting us know that "confidently" means "stating" something when it could be shown with a simple period? Double grammar drink!
I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people — men in particular — are crabbier when they're hungry."
Wow. "men in particular"? REALLY? I don't know about you lot, but if I'm hungry, I'll shove you down a sewer drain to get to a sandwich. And I have a VAGINA.
[The Husband: "Layin' on the allegorya little thick there, eh, Meyer?"]
He chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"
No, Edward, she's not. An observant person would have picked up on the dozens of times you've said you're dangerous and RUN IN THE OTHER FUCKING DIRECTION.
Oh, god, you guys, you're about to vomit on your shoes. Edward talks about how he spent his whole weekend hunting for food, and how he was distracted the whole time because he couldn't be there to KEEP BELLA SAFE. And how he was SERIOUS when he told her NOT TO FALL INTO THE OCEAN. Because he WOULDN'T BE THERE TO SAVE HER.
I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." He shook his head, and then
seemed to remember something. "Well, not totally unscathed."
"What?"
"Your hands," he reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the almost-healed scrapes across the heels of my hands. His eyes missed nothing.
"I fell," I sighed.
This is not an exaggeration: If my husband shit himself over SCRAPES ON MY HANDS like Edward is doing to Bella, I would DIVORCE HIM. But, of course, in Meyer's world, if there's not a penis to take account of EVERY TINY SCRAPE AND BRUISE, you are WORTHLESS.
"That's what I thought." His lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse — and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away.
MAKE THAT EM DASH A COMMA AND DRINK FOR FUCK'S SAKE. And Edward? You are a condescending douchebag with an undescribed face. DIE.
"Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated, almost angry as I thought of how much
disappointment I had suffered because of his absence.
I'm frustrated that lack of her preferred dick in the same room, a) makes her WALLOW and b) that women BUY INTO THIS SHIT.
"You might have called me," I decided.
HE BARELY FUCKING KNOWS YOU, YOU CLINGY, CO-DEPENDENT BINT.
He was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."
"But I didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.
"What?" His velvety voice was compelling.
"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." I blushed to be saying this out loud.
TAKE A DRINK. RIGHT NOW. FUCK THE RULES. SOMETHING THIS SHITTY AND CO-DEPENDENT NEEDS ALCOHOL.
"Don't you see, Bella? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved." He turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for me to understand. "I don't want to hear that you feel that way." His voice was low but urgent. His words cut me. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Bella — please, grasp that."
"No." I tried very hard not to look like a sulky child.
"I'm serious," he growled.
"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."
Dear parents of young women who think this tripe is perfectly fine for your daughters to read:
Best of luck when they bring home douchebag after douchebag because "He reminds me of Edward". Just remember that I FUCKING CALLED IT.
His voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."
I bit my lip and was glad he couldn't know how much that hurt.
Don't want your partner to see that you're hurt by something that's been said? CoV! Drink!
I stared out at the road. We must be close now.
Wow. It took 12 pages [in .pdf format] to get to verb tense fuckery! Have a drink!
"Are you crying?" He sounded appalled. I hadn't realized the moisture in my eyes had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.
WOW. In order:
"the moisture in my eyes". REALLY?
"traitor tears" OH MY GOD SHUT UP.
"were there, betraying me" KILL YOURSELF BELLA. REALLY.
[Sidenote: Traitor Tears Betraying Me would be kind of a cool band name.]
"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your
expression — you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on
something."
"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker — you know, self-defense. I was going to
smash his nose into his brain." I thought of the dark-haired man with a surge of hate.
Meyer, suck it hard, yeah? Much like saying Shakespeare was a misogynist doesn't make you LESS OF A MISOGYNIST, saying that Bella WOULD HAVE DEFENDED HERSELF is not the same as BELLA DEFENDING HERSELF.
"You were going to fight them?" This upset him. "Didn't you think about running?"
"I fall down a lot when I run," I admitted.
SO SHE DIDN'T TRY YOU GUYS. BECAUSE SHE MIGHT HAVE FALLEN DOWN.
"What about screaming for help?"
"I was getting to that part."
No you weren't, you lying cunt. You CONSIDERED screaming, and then you DECIDED that your throat was TOO DRY so you DIDN'T TRY.
He shook his head. "You were right — I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."
Let it go, Edward. Just LET IT GO.
"Do you promise to be there tomorrow?"
"I promise."
Because, if he's not, she'll feel DESPAIR. My god, how is she going to handle WHOLE WEEKENDS WITHOUT HIS MAGIC COCK?
[The Husband: "Because if he's not, I swear to god I'll kill myself."]
"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.
I handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."
"Oh, right." He grinned.
First off, put a period in the place of that poor, abused em dash. Second off, isn't it GREAT that Meyer is encouraging girls to lie to their parents about the boys they like? It's so HEALTHY and SMART. No, wait, it's those other things. The opposite things.
"Bella?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.
For fuck's sake, Meyer, just SAY his tone was serious but hesitant. Watch:
"Bella?" he asked in a tone that was serious but hesitant.
I know you want to fuck every em dash you see but CUT IT THE FUCK OUT.
"Will you promise me something?"
"Yes," I said, and instantly regretted my unconditional agreement. What if he asked me to stay away from him? I couldn't keep that promise.
::vomit::
What is that, three times or four? Not that it matters, really, but I wonder if another chapter will top it.
"Don't go into the woods alone."
I stared at him in blank confusion. "Why?"
He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past me out the window. "I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."
Because giving her a straight answer would lose him MYSTERIOUS SEXY points, and we CAN'T HAVE THAT.
I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in his voice, but I was relieved. This, at least, was an easy promise to honor.
Oh, look, verb tense fuckery! [but I was relieved. This, at least...] Bottoms up!
"Bella?" I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face just inches from mine.
HIS UNDESCRIBED FACE.
Bella goes inside and has a conversation with Charlie where she doesn't immediately think he's useless or stupid [surprising, right?] She does, of course, lie about who dropped her off.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."
"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered what my face looked like.
So do we, Bella. Because Meyer hasn't felt THAT was important enough to describe EITHER.
"I'm just going to call Jessica first."
"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes — but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."
"Well, give her a chance to get home first."
"Right," I agreed.
Wow. Meyer wrote a conversation between Charlie and Bella that didn't make me want to strangle the ho-bag, and she managed to use proper emphasis in Charlie's last sentence. Come clean, Meyer; you sent this scene out to a ghostwriter, didn't you? You scamp.
I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. Get a grip, I told myself.
That's right ladies: If you're nearly violently attacked by four random dudes, don't go into shock. GET A GRIP.
So then Jessica calls before Bella can call her and sounds surprised that Bella got home, but she WASN'T WORRIED ENOUGH TO STAY WITH BELLA IN PORT ANGELES. And Jessica wants details, but Bella doesn't want to give them, and Jessica figures out it's because Bella's dad is around. Because THAT'S HEALTHY, RIGHT?
Also, this is really shitty plot contrivance. Meyer's trying to build suspense in the relationship between Bella and Edward by making it seem SECRET and SNEAKY when Bella could, oh, TELL CHARLIE THE TRUTH because he's never said ANYTHING NEGATIVE ABOUT THE CULLENS SO IS PROBABLY COOL WITH EDWARD.
I went through the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention to what I was doing.
Bella: So fucking stupid she notes when she doesn't pay proper attention to her bedtime routine.
Bella showers, and then gets a wicked case of the chills because she's a dumbass. No, wait, that's not fair. She's a COMPLETE DUMBASS. No, wait, still not right. Wait. I'll have her explain it:
About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of him — and I didn't know how potent that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
About this paragraph I am absolutely positive. First, the first sentence of that paragraph is a shitty fragment that could be easily be rewritten as a proper sentence. Second, Bella finally has confirmation for her COMPLETELY BATSHIT THEORY SHE MADE UP WITH NO EVIDENCE. And third, HOW THE FUCK IS SHE IN LOVE WITH HIM AND HOW IS THIS A POSITIVE ROLE MODEL FOR YOUNG GIRLS? ["Oh, mommy, he says he's dangerous and wants to drink my blood and has murderous rage, and it's LOVE. I KNOW IT.]
And thus ends chapter 9. My buzz has worn off. Perhaps I should read through and play my own drinking game.
