As predicted, Isabella turned up in a Biology classroom in Washington.
I’d thought it was Jasper at first, when I saw the classroom massacre that day in January. Twenty students slaughtered, blood spattering the walls like some kind of bad contemporary painting.
But Jasper was in my section of U.S. History , and I could see he wasn’t going anywhere.
Edward held it in check, and the vision disappeared.
I cornered him in the hallway after class.
“Go talk to Carlisle,” I urged him. “Now.”
Edward is a runner. By which I mean not that he enjoys running, although he does. But I mean he runs when things don’t go right.
But he’s also stubborn, and so he waited until after school.