把书放到桌上然后就座的时候，我没有抬眼，但我眼角的余光还是看到了他姿势的变化。他倾向远离我的那一侧，坐到了椅子的最边缘，脸也扭到了另一边。好像闻到了什么难闻的气味。我偷偷地闻了闻自己的头发。我的头发散发着草莓般的味道，是我最喜欢的香波的气味。完全不像是什么难闻的味道呀。我让头发自右肩垂下，在我俩之间形成了一挂黑色的帘子，然后试图注意听老师讲课。 

 

Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

 

不幸的是，课讲的是细胞解剖，我已经学过的东西。不管怎样，我还是认真地做了笔记，始终低着头。

 

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly brother.

 

我忍不住偶尔透过那层我用头发做的帘子，偷看我旁边那个奇怪的男孩子一眼。那堂课自始至终，他那僵硬的姿势一刻都没有松弛下来过，坐在椅子边上，能离我多远就坐多远。我可以看到他左腿上的那只手紧紧地攥成了拳头，他的肌腱绷在苍白的皮肤下清晰可见，他一直保持着肌肉紧绷的状态，从未放松下来。他把白衬衫长长的袖子卷到了胳膊肘，他手臂的皮肤光洁细腻，肌肉却惊人的结实强健。他远非坐在他高大结实的哥哥旁边时看上去那样的瘦弱。

 

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.

 

这节课好像比别的课拖的时间都长。是因为这一天终于快熬出头了的缘故呢，还是因为我在等他那紧攥的拳头放松下来的缘故呢?他的拳头始终没放松下来;他依旧静静地坐着，静得好像他根本没有呼吸似的。他是不是有什么地方不对劲啦?他平时都是这样吗?我对自己今天吃午饭时杰西卡的那番刻薄话的判断产生了怀疑。说不定她不像我想象的那样喜欢怨恨别人。

 

It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.

 

这和我不可能有任何关系呀。之前他根本就不认识我。

 

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phraseif looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

 

我又抬头偷看了他一眼，马上就后悔了。没想到他又在瞪着我，两只黑色的眼睛里都充满了厌恶。我迅速把目光从他身上移开，吓得我胆怯地靠在椅背上。这时，我脑子里突然掠过了要是目光能杀人这句话。

 

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than I'd thought — his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

 

正在这时，铃声大作，把我吓得跳了起来，爱德华·卡伦已经离开了椅子。他优美自然地站了起来——个头比我想象的要高很多——背对着我，别人都还没离座，他已经走出了门。

 

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes wouldtear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.

 

我僵坐在自己的座位上，茫然地目送着他的背影。他这个人也太讨厌了。这不公平。我开始慢慢地收拾自己的东西，竭力抑制着满腔的怒火，怕自己的眼睛泛起泪花。不知什么原因，我的情绪跟泪腺之间有固定的电子线路连接。我生气时通常都会哭，这是一个很丢人的秉性。