The Luxury Passenger Carrier Case Study Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 750 words

The Luxury Passenger Carrier - Case Study Example The company has decided to raise the average fare to $ 205. If the tax rate is 30 percent, how many passengers per month are needed to generate an after-tax profit of $ 750,000? Â  f. (Use original data). Springfield Express is considering offering a discounted fare of $ 120, which the company believes would increase the load factor to 80 percent. Only the additional seats would be sold at the discounted fare. Additional monthly advertising cost would be $ 180,000. How much pre-tax income would the discounted fare provide Springfield Express if the company has 50 passenger train cars per day, 30 days per month? Â  g. Springfield Express has an opportunity to obtain a new route that would be traveled 20 times per month. The company believes it can sell seats at $ 175 on the route, but the load factor would be only 60 percent. Fixed cost would increase by $ 250,000 per month for additional personnel, additional passenger train cars, maintenance, and so on. Variable cost per passenger would remain at $ 70. Â  Springfield Express should be sure that its forecasts are correct.

Nursing Community Project Hypertension impact on the Miami dade County Essay

Nursing Community Project Hypertension impact on the Miami dade County Commiunity - Essay Example 2. Demographic Characteristics of the Selected Miami Dade County Community Miami Dade County has been selected as the setting for analyzing the impact of hypertension upon the community. Miami Dade is located in the state of Florida in the United States. The total population of this county constitutes to approximately 2,253,362. According to a recent survey conducted, it was observed that the number as well as the rate of deaths caused by hypertension is the significant cause of fall in the demographic figure of Miami Dade County. In the year 2006, it was stated that high blood pressure is determined to be the primary cause for death of around 319,000 Americans. Additionally, the rate of death due to hypertension has tremendously increased in the recent years. Furthermore, it has been observed that within the increased rate of around 58.7% suffers of hypertension, there includes a majority of females within Miami Dade (Health Council of South Florida Inc, 2010). On the basis of furth er analysis, it has been detected that ‘Prehypertension’ as well as ‘high blood pressure’ within adolescents have taken an accelerated leap in the recent years within Miami Dade County. ... Miami represents the one of the major cosmopolitan areas within the United States. This particular county nearly constitutes 38 ‘Census-designated’ places and 16 unincorporated regions. The county’s total physical area entails around 6,297 km2. It has been observed that immigrants of Miami Dade County were drastically affected by hypertension in the year 2006 and it continues to accelerate with the passing of years (Health Council of South Florida Inc, 2010). 4. Statistics According to the observation of Miami-Dade County Community Health Report Card, the increased admissions within hospitals caused by hypertension was the worst performance indicator in the year 2007.The pictorial diagram represented below depicts that with proper diagnosis as well as treatment of Hypertension in Miami Dade County, the disease can be prevented to a greater extent which stands to be in total around 34.1 percent (The Healthy Communities Institute, 2013). Source: (The Healthy Communi ties Institute, 2013) Source: (The Healthy Communities Institute, 2013) According to the assessment made, the aforesaid diagram depicts that hypertension can affect both the genders to a considerable level that is around 34.1 percent on an average (The Healthy Communities Institute, 2013). According to the analysis of ‘The Healthy People 2020’ national health target is aimed at reducing the level of high blood pressure among the age group of 18 years and above to at least 26.9 percent (The Healthy Communities Institute, 2013). 5. Nursing Diagnosis NANDA diagnosis has laid down certain diagnosis interpretation of hypertension which has been briefly explained below: Risk for Reduced Cardiac Output There are various risks

The Inheritance Of Sins In Sophocles Antigone English Literature Essay

The Inheritance Of Sins In Sophocles Antigone English Literature Essay Inheritance plays a very dominant role in the peoples lives. In both the books, Antigone written by Sophocles in the late 5th century in ancient Greece and The House Of Spirits written by Isabel Allende in the late 20th century, inheritance of sins form one of the major themes. Antigone is the protagonist of Sophocles Antigone. This play takes place in a society where the gods were highly worshipped. To understand this, it is important to know about Oedipus. Oedipus was a man of quick action and extraordinary insight. But, this habit of his eventually turns against him.He saved Thebes from the curse of the Sphinx and became the king overnight,he murders his own father without knowing it, He marries his own mother Jacosta without realizing it, he stabs his own eyes, and then he himself demands to be exiled. He does all of this without knowing that one day, his curse will also befall on his family. The Greeks believed, that the entire family would be destroyed because of some crime committed by their forefathers because the god send them pain and suffering on order to avenge them. This is brought out in the very opening of the play when Antigone says:My own dear sister, Ismene, of all the sufferings bequeathed by Oedipus, can you think of one that Zeus has not given the two of us in our lifetime?  [1]  .. Antigone is very similar to Oedipus. She begins the play with almost the same characteristics that Oedipus did. But Antigone had one thing Oedipus didnt, she knew her past very well. She was not afraid of the approaching fate of the her life.When a house has been shaken by the gods, The ruin never leaves them, but creeps on Through generations of the family2., The chorus sing of the curse, the sins committed by the forefathers, which can brutally destroy a family, generation by generation.. One generation does not free the next, But a god strikes them down3., Antigones lif e revolves around the sins committed by her father due to which she lost her mother, brothers and finally she is going to lose herself. She is continuously haunted by the distortion that has destroyed her family. But she is aware of the fate that has been fixed for her and she feels that she has nothing to lose. The thrice told doom of my father, the entire destiny has come to us, to the famous children of Labdacus4., this quote signifies the reflection of Antigone on her family curse again. She keeps talking about the many grieves that Oedipus handed down to his children. In her emotional confusion, she sees herself doomed because of the crimes committed by her father that has brought ruin to their family. By the thrice told doom she keeps repeating her future. Through this we come to know that even though the Greeks believed in that the supernatural power will destroy the families, they also believe on the fact that even the humans are responsible for the choice they make. Antigo ne, though not afraid, moans her awaited destiny and is continually haunted by her family past. The girl is the violent child of a violent father5. At this point of the story, Antigone is being irrational and being impulsive. She does not know what she is saying or doing. Now, she is in the same position as her father, Oedipus, was except for the fact that Antigone is in complete control of her fate which Oedipus wasnt . Unlike Antigone, where there was the society that believed in supernatural powers and beliefs, The House of Spirits takes place in a modern society where the ancient beliefs are not mentioned, still . Yet, the inheritance of the sins completely changes the course of the life of Alba.Alba is the granddaughter of Estaban Trueba. Estaban Garcia is the grandson of Estaban Trueba and Pancha Garcia. He pours all his hatred into Alba to take revenge.. This is so because Estaban Garcia wants to take revenge on his grandfatherby torturing his granddaughter. Hehates his grandfather for not acknowledging him as. In the epilogue of this book, we also find out that Alba becomes the narrator  [i]  of the story. The epilogue of the story plays a major role as it is spoken by Alba herself and it helps her realize the reason behind these painful incidents. In The House of the Spirits, Alba suffers significantly because of her past..Estaban Trueba is the most prominent character in this book and he is the only character who stays from the beginning to the very end of the book. From the very beginning of the story, he makes a lots of mistakes without realising that one day it will bounce back at him through Alba. He forbade anyone to talk to him and could not tolerate opposition; he viewed the slightest disagreement as a provocationà ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦the peasants hid their daughters and clenched their fists helplessly because they could not confront him6.. The peasants hated the ways Estaban treated them. He considered the workers and the peasants inferior to himself, so he did not give any importance to them. He was a representative of the conservative attitude. He believed that the peasants do not deserve a share in the wealth of the upper class. Estaban is a person who craves for power, and because of his attitude and the state of the gov ernment at that period of time, he became one of the richest person in the region. He treated the peasants and the lower class people with disrespect without understanding that these mistakes will affect his family too.I am beginning to suspect that nothing that happens is fortuitous, that it all corresponds to a faith laid down before my birth7, realization dawns on Alba that she is not going through all of this because of her fault, in fact she is suffering this pain because of the sins and misdeeds committed by people in her previous generations, especially by her grandfather.Because my revenge would be another part of the same inexorable rite8, Alba decides not to seek for revenge because, the sins committed by her in avenging herself will affect not only her, but also the future generations. She also realizes that this is a chain of events and if it does not stop, will continue forever. Estaban Trueba raped Pancha. And now the same sin is being committed by Estaban Garcia to th e granddaughter of the rapist. Alba has a burning desire to stop this circle of sinful incidents that will cause the future generations to suffer. Due to the suffering she had undergone in the hands of Estaban Garcia, Alba andher grandfather to write their familt story in order to , reclaim the past and overcome the terrors of my own9. By writing this story, both Estaban Trueba and Alba are able to let go of their anger and their yearning to take revenge. In both these books, it is seen that the course of the lives of the characters is determined through the sins committed by their forefathers. In Sophocles Antigone, it is brought out through Antigone. In The House of the Spirits, it is brought out through the youngest living character, Alba. In both these books, these characters realize that their life is shadowed by the sins that their ancestors committed in a very painful way. Antigone is tortured to death while Alba is physically and mentally tortured by Estaban Garcia. In Antigone, it was believed that Antigone suffered because the gods bring ruin to the family that has committed sins whereas in The House of the Spirits, Estaban Garcias desire for avenge became the consequence for the sins committed by the Estaban Trueba.In The House of the Spirits, we also see that the government and the political situation also plays an extremely important role in Albas life. It is because of her grandfathers power than gave rise to so many riv als and it was because of the political situation that Alba was tortured. We see that unlike Antigone, Alba realised that the mistakes she does today will affect her upcoming generations. This is what changes her life forever. Antigone dies whereas Alba lives. Though both these books have different places of origin and different timelines, they depict the same theme through these books. Mans life is truly determined by the sins committed by their ancestors in their previous generations.

Pride and Dignity in No One Writes to the Colonel, by Gabriel Garcia Ma

In a state of martial law one individual does not have much to say. This statement holds true in the novel, No One Writes to the Colonel, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The author discusses the political climate of one man, the Colonel, who after fighting to create the government in power is being controlled by the bureaucracy. A corrupt government can ruin a man, sap his will, and drive him mindless with hunger; although times are hard the Colonel keeps his dignity and pride.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   The government, through the use of martial law, controls the people quite readily. The government maintains itself through "Big-Brother" tactics that include the use of censors, secret police, and ordinances like "TALKING POLITICS FORBIDDEN." The sweeping control that is present under this martial law is evident in the every day life of the Colonel and the people of his town. The first example of the nature of their lives is shown through the funeral. A poor musician has died of natural causes; the first in a long period of time. The government in attempt to avoid a demonstration and possibly a riot, reroutes his funeral procession to avoid the police barracks. Since the musician is a first to have died of natural causes, we can assume that martial law has resulted in the untimely death of many people. Another example is the death of the Colonel's son, Agustin, Whom after his death has become the embodiment of the underground. It is rightly so, being that he was the writer of the "clandestine" papers.   Ã‚  Ã‚   "'Agustin wrote.'   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   The Colonel observed the deserted street.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   'What does he say?'   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   'The same as always.'   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   They gave him the clandestine sheet of paper" (p.32)    Martial law has restricted the free flow of id... ...is moment the Colonel feels "pure, explicit, invincible" (p.64) in replying "shit." (p.64)      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   This novel takes place somewhere in South America and it is evident that because of the type of government, conditions are difficult during this period for the group of people fighting tyranny. The Colonel has little material wealth after a life of work and service to his country. These monetary circumstances dictate how he and his wife must live day by day; and this hardship is in addition to the medical problems they both endure requiring the service of a doctor.   And yet through it all, the Colonel with steadfast resolve awaits his letter from Congress regarding his pension. This corrupt and unjust government has ruined this man, but has not broken him. His pride enables him to retain his dignity through it all.

Executive Summary Expedia vs Priceline Essay

Expedia and Priceline are the leading competitors of the online travel service. With travel being one of the Internets hottest commodities, these two companies have been in competition for the top spot. Both businesses offer great deals on hotels, car rentals, and most importantly travel accommodations. The financial post online interviewed Expedia’s managing director Sean Shannon about how he keeps the online travel superstore unique. He noted that they â€Å"invest a lot in technology and software writers and coders, who work to make the shopping experience better and figure out ways to stay ahead of the curve (Ovsey, 2001).† With both companies reaching new heights of Internet success, the need to be informed of each other’s business policies and ideas is very important. Many customers of both Expedia and Priceline already had a combined travel agency that would normally have taken care of their travel plans. When the Internet boom exploded, companies such as Microsoft jumped on the idea of having a travel agency online. The Wall Street Journal Online Edition confirms this need for technology by reporting on the company’s participation in J.P. Morgan’s annual telecom conference. The Wall Street Journal agrees, â€Å"Expedia, Inc. is the largest online travel company in the world, with an extensive brand portfolio that includes some of the world’s leading online travel brands (â€Å"Expedia, inc. to,† 2013).† This would enable a new customer base that would promote Internet sales, and an easier way of life for frequent travelers. Selling points for both of these companies is extremely important, as the transition from a brick and mortar company to a web based company was a hard shift. These companies have not only been in competition for over 10 years, but they have boosted profits every year. The Atlantic Online posted an opinion about Priceline in 2010 regarding the success of the online travel company compared to that of Expedia. They stated, â€Å"Priceline’s stock price is up almost 90 percent, while its competitors have flat lined (Expedia) (Madrigal, 2010).† This shows the customer, that even though these companies are in competition, they have done well enough to withstand many economic ups and downs over the years. The importance of stability and growth over the years is very important to a consumer who deserves quality in purchasing potentially high dollar items. The following report specifics the financial reports from the last three years for both companies. This provides established proof that both companies are thriving in what they do.

Twilight 7. NIGHTMARE

7. NIGHTMARE I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn't want anything to eat. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course I had no idea what was special about it, so he wasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone. Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for my tastes. I popped it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a pillow over the top half of my face. I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I'd listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I really did like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise. I'd have to thank Phil again. And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think – which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CD again and again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep. I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of my consciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest. â€Å"Jacob? What's wrong?† I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark. â€Å"Run, Bella, you have to run!† he whispered, terrified. â€Å"This way, Bella!† I recognized Mike's voice calling out of the gloomy heart of the trees, but I couldn't see him. â€Å"Why?† I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to find the sun. But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror. â€Å"Jacob!† I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his exposed fangs. â€Å"Bella, run!† Mike cried out again from behind me. But I didn't turn. I was watching a light coming toward me from the beach. And then Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes black and dangerous. He held up one hand and beckoned me to come to him. The wolf growled at my feet. I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed. â€Å"Trust me,† he purred. I took another step. The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs aiming for the jugular. â€Å"No!† I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed. My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor. My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with my shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning. I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the rubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with my fingers. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes. It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the images I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to face them now. I sat up, and my head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward. First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as possible. I grabbed my bathroom bag. The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again. I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed – something I never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer. I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited. I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise. With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word. Vampire. It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through – everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies. Then I found a promising site – Vampires A-Z. I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally the screen was finished – simple white background with black text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page: Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both. – Rev. Montague Summers If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires? – Rousseau The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood. I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood. Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici. About this last there was only one brief sentence. Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires. It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires. Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or my own observations. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor. And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number of scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading – vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night. Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly. Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks – and the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter. I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door. It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays. There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days. There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green parasites. I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree – I knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss – rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against the living tree. This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, but where else was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind. Now that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see me. Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurdities that embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom. I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer, but I did so unwillingly. First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true. Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this moment. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more – small things that registered slowly – how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way be sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip till he heard where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking†¦ except me. He had told me he was the villain, dangerous†¦ Could the Cullens be vampires? Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether it be Jacob's cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was not†¦ human. He was something more. So then – maybe. That would have to be my answer for now. And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it was true? If Edward was a vampire – I could hardly make myself think the words – then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed. Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to ignoring him as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to leave me alone – and mean it this time. I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I considered that alternative. My mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next option. I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something†¦ sinister, he'd done nothing to hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Tyler's fender if he hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could he be? I retorted. My head spun around in answerless circles. There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The dark Edward in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the word Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when I'd screamed out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for the wolf that brought the cry of â€Å"no† to my lips. It was fear that he would be harmed – even as he called to me with sharp-edged fangs, I feared for him. And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew – if I knew – I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now. Even if†¦ but I couldn't think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered and rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain. But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks. It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than I'd felt since†¦ well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest. That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through – usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives. This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy. And so the day was quiet, productive – I finished my paper before eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I'd felt before I'd taken my walk with Jacob Black. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid – I knew I should be, but I couldn't feel the right kind of fear. I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window – surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years – and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins. Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately. â€Å"Nice day out,† he commented. â€Å"Yes,† I agreed with a grin. He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair – the same color, if not the same texture, as mine – had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Ren? ¦e when she was just two years older than I was now. I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months. By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done – the product of a slow social life – but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser. â€Å"Bella!† I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike. I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving. â€Å"Hey, Mike,† I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning like this. He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn't help but feel gratified. â€Å"I never noticed before – your hair has red in it,† he commented, catching between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze. â€Å"Only in the sun.† I became just a little uncomfortable as he tucked the lock behind my ear. â€Å"Great day, isn't it?† â€Å"My kind of day,† I agreed. â€Å"What did you do yesterday?† His tone was just a bit too proprietary. â€Å"I mostly worked on my essay.† I didn't add that I was finished with it – no need to sound smug. He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. â€Å"Oh yeah – that's due Thursday, right?† â€Å"Um, Wednesday, I think.† â€Å"Wednesday?† He frowned. â€Å"That's not good†¦ What are you writing yours on?† â€Å"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic.† He stared at me like I'd just spoken in pig Latin. â€Å"I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight,† he said, deflated. â€Å"I was going to ask if you wanted to go out.† â€Å"Oh.† I was taken off guard. Why couldn't I ever have a pleasant conversation with Mike anymore without it getting awkward? â€Å"Well, we could go to dinner or something†¦ and I could work on it later.† He smiled at me hopefully. â€Å"Mike†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I hated being put on the spot. â€Å"I don't think that would be the best idea.† His face fell. â€Å"Why?† he asked, his eyes guarded. My thoughts flickered to Edward, wondering if that's where his thoughts were as well. â€Å"I think†¦ and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now I will cheerfully beat you to death,† I threatened, â€Å"but I think that would hurt Jessica's feelings.† He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. â€Å"Jessica?† â€Å"Really, Mike, are you blind?† â€Å"Oh,† he exhaled – clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to make my escape. â€Å"It's time for class, and I can't be late again.† I gathered my books up and stuffed them in my bag. We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction. When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what I could be doing tonight†¦ But that was definitely the wrong path to let my mind wander down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even close. So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first. She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens – to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me – would Edward be waiting to sit with me again? As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled – Spanish had made us late – but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength. I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore. We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response. Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract myself. I realized I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw his empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment. The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class. I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner – I really was relieved that he finally seemed to be catching on – but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night. Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting snippier as they progressed to the present. I sighed and typed a quick response. Mom, Sorry. I've been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper. My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that. It's sunny outside today – I know, I'm shocked, too – so I'm going to go outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. I love you, Bella. I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down. Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. My favorites were Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. I'd read the first most recently, so I started into Sense and Sensibility, only to remember after I began three that the hero of the story happened to be named Edward. Angrily, I turned to Mansfield Park, but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that was just too close. Weren't there any other names available in the late eighteenth century? I snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed my eyes. I would think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt†¦ The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone. â€Å"Charlie?† I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house. I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in. â€Å"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet – I fell asleep outside.† I stifled a yawn. â€Å"Don't worry about it,† he said. â€Å"I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway.† I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy. â€Å"Dad,† I said during a commercial, â€Å"Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose†¦ do you mind if I go with them?† â€Å"Jessica Stanley?† he asked. â€Å"And Angela Weber.† I sighed as I gave him the details. He was confused. â€Å"But you're not going to the dance, right?† â€Å"No, Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses – you know, giving them constructive criticism.† I wouldn't have to explain this to a woman. â€Å"Well, okay.† He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff. â€Å"It's a school night, though.† â€Å"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?† â€Å"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here,† he reminded me. â€Å"I don't know how you survived,† I muttered, then added more clearly, â€Å"I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top.† It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse – something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix. I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell. It was the same as yesterday – I just couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table. The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin Angela's or Jessica's enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I could do a little clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't cancel without at least telling me. After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet from my school bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.