Chapter 11: Wherein Bella Must Make Her Own Drama to Get Any
“And then, as the room went black, I was suddenly hyperaware that Edward was sitting less than an inch from me.” Like, Oh me yarm! I guess this is good in that teenage girls really do get awkward when their crushes are sitting really close to them, but since her devotion to Edward borders on the slavish, this seems sort of creepy.
“A crazy impulse to reach over and touch him, to stroke his perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed me.” Why is it crazy? He said about two hours ago that you two are dating. Are you afraid that he’ll eat your hand? If so, here’s Meta-Bella being her sensible self again.
“I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, my hands balling into fists.” If I didn’t do this, I would have both hands and possibly my textbook in my panties.
“I was losing my mind.” … Too easy.
“The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount.” A token amount? I guess it’s sort of correct, since it can mean small, but this just sounds so incredibly awkward in the context of room lighting. You pay a token amount, you don’t light it. By the way, I’ve just quoted over a whole sequential paragraph of bad lines.
“He grinned back, his eyes somehow managing to smolder, even in the dark.” The sexy grinning smolder? Who is this kid, Fabio?
“I looked away before I could start hyperventilating.” … and here, yet again, she perfectly describes mental illness. The last time a man made me hyperventilate, it was because he had previously threatened me with grievous bodily harm, and I was alone in the same room with him. Which is Bella’s situation too, when you think about it, but instead of making her frightened, it’s making her horny. Fun challenge for those of you playing the home game: Diagnose Bella!
“It was absolutely ridiculous that I should feel dizzy.” So, what mental illness attracts one strongly to danger, causes obsession that actually crosses the line into physical illness, and yet leaves the subject rational enough to realize that all is not right in the state of Denmark? Appearance of Meta-Bella… again, for those playing the home game, around now is when you should take a shot.
“The overpowering craving to touch him also refused to fade, and I crushed my fists safely against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.” He’s already said he’s your boyfriend. Why are you so afraid to touch him? Beyond that you have suddenly grown a brain and realized that you are a hors d'oeuvre to him.
“Edward chuckled beside me.” It’s funny when you hurt yourself! Seriously, we do not have one instance of his laugh where he is not laughing at someone. Great sense of humor, my friend Catherine’s fluffy white butt.
“His voice was dark and his eyes were cautious.” He’s just so gol darn mysterious, ain’t he?
“I stood with care, worried my balance might have been affected by the strange new intensity between us.” Any new diagnoses?
“His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch him flared as strong as before.” If I leave you alone for thirty seconds, you will surely be decapitated by a piece of loose leaf. I hate not carrying you around on my back like a baby.
“I drifted to the locker room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were other people surrounding me.” And Edward has roofies in his fingertips. Of course.
“Mercifully, some vestiges of Mike's chivalry still survived; he came to stand beside me.” Um, why wouldn’t they survive? He’s been shown as nothing but a really nice guy, who may be interested romantically, but is willing to be a friend. THE HORROR!
“Sometimes it was so easy to like Mike.” And the rest of the time he was a hateful little worm, because he’s only human-attractive.
“"You and Cullen, huh?" he asked, his tone rebellious.” Rebellious? Princess Speshul Snowflake Alert! First Lauren was insolent and now Mike is rebellious? Also, this makes no sense in it’s abruptness. Here we are, having a good time and now ‘OH YOU WHORISH WHORE!’. Quoi?
“"I don't like it," he muttered anyway.
"You don't have to," I snapped.
"He looks at you like… like you're something to eat," he continued, ignoring me.”
Oh GAWD. Here’s this stupid mundane trying to tell me my new squishybuns doesn’t seem right. Obviously, it’s jealousy. This would be funnier if every person I know who had gotten involved with an abuser hadn’t have done exactly the same thing. We weren’t concerned because there was something wrong with their partner, we were jealous!
“I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of my stomach, my argument with Mike already a distant memory. I was wondering if Edward would be waiting, or if I should meet him at his car.” Hum-de-dum, my friend just told me my new cuddly-poo was shooting me raep faces and he was worried for me. I wonder whether I should wear panties on our next date, or if I should go ahead and take some date rape drugs first.
“Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?” Que?
“His eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "Newton's getting on my nerves."” It’s not that I don’t trust you, baby, but I just don’t want anything else with testicles ever looking at you.
“"You weren't listening again?" I was horror-struck. All traces of my sudden good humor vanished.
"How's your head?" he asked innocently.
"You're unbelievable!" I turned, stomping away in the general direction of the parking lot, though I hadn't ruled out walking at this point.
"You were the one who mentioned how I'd never seen you in Gym — it made me
curious." He didn't sound repentant, so I ignored him.” Go, Meta-Bella! And kick him in the sparkly nuts for good measure!
“"Maybe… if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," I insisted.
His eyes were suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it, and I agree to let you drive Saturday?" he countered my conditions.” I can’t promise not to spy on you every second of your life, but you can drive once in awhile. At least if I say so.
“I considered, and decided it was probably the best offer I would get. "Deal," I agreed.” And Meta-Bella disappears under a mountain of hormonal stupidity. The best offer you should get is exactly what you asked – your privacy is not something to be bargained with. This is like ‘Well, I won’t promise I won’t hit you again, but I’ll give you a big cookie this time!’
“"Then I'm very sorry I upset you."” Oh, thank you soooo much. He’s not at all sorry that he’s completely invading her privacy, he’s just toying with her because she’s so darn cute when she’s upset.
“His smile was condescending now.” Is it ever not?
“It was easier to ride with him if I only looked when it was over.” He just loves me so much that he doesn’t mind that I almost have a heart attack every time he drives me somewhere.
“"Did I frighten you?" Yes, there was definitely humor there.” Scaring the shit out of the human I claim to love makes me larf. Har har sparkle.
“It wasn't until my head started to swim that I realized I wasn't breathing.” SOOPER HYPNOTISM!!!!
“I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my head.” Wait, what month is it again? It was warm enough a week or so ago (maybe two weeks?) to go to the beach and fall asleep in the backyard, but now it’s freezing cold again, because SMeyer’s time sense sucks.
“I smiled as I walked to the house. It was clear he was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else.” He just told you a minute ago that nothing in the world would be easier than eating you, then stopped your breath with his eyes. And now you’re going all gooey because he’s going to see you tomorrow? Someone please apply a clue-by-four to this girl’s thick head.
“It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often.” Oh boy, a description of Bella’s wet dreams.
“I pulled on my brown turtleneck and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of spaghetti straps and shorts.” Oh boo hoo hoo. Buy some khakis, you big baby.
“"That was the plan." I grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought it up so I wouldn't have to compose careful half-truths.” At this rate, he won’t have to organize a statewide hunt for my remains! How dare he?
“"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I glared.
"Didn't anyone ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing on rinsing the plate.” Good God, why does this ungrateful little bitch treat her father so badly? He’s worried about her fitting in, and he’s upset to think she’s not going to the dance because no one asked. All he’s ever shown doing is being thoughtful of her and she acts like he beats her with a rawhide whip.
“I sympathized with him.” No, you didn’t, because after this “so mature” little insight, you go back to treating him like garbage.
“When I heard the cruiser pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Charlie's spot on the driveway.” You know, a lie by omission is still a lie, and this book is promoting dangerous behavior as being “romantic”. Guess what, girls? If a guy had said with all sincerity that he would like to eat your sweet, sweet flesh and drink your blood, then tells you you’re going out on Saturday for a “date” and don’t tell your parents, it’s a bad idea to do as he says.
“I never wanted it to end.” Too bad in the real world, it would end with you dead in a ditch.
“"How are you today?" His eyes roamed over my face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.” As if he didn’t know, considering that he spent last night camping out in her bedroom, and the whole morning listening to her father’s thoughts.
“"Neither could I," he teased as he started the engine.” Wait a minute – his “deal” for her forgiving his unforgivable breaches of her privacy was that she could drive. Will that ever be mentioned again?
“I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me, whenever I got to drive it again.” Because women are frail, helpless little things… and when is she going to drive again?
“"So what did you do last night?" I asked.
He chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."” See, without prior knowledge, we could assume that this is one instance of Edward not laughing at her. Since we already know he spent last night rifling through her possessions, he’s definitely laughing at her again.
“He snorted, dropping his serious expression. "Brown?" he asked skeptically.” Gawd, here I thought you would say ‘Edward’ is your favorite color. Jesus Christ with a great axe, is this guy ever not a total douche?
“"Sure. Brown is warm. I miss brown. Everything that's supposed to be brown — tree trunks, rocks, dirt — is all covered up with squashy green stuff here," I complained.
He seemed fascinated by my little rant.” I would be too, because it’s clearly the ramblings of a diseased mind.
“"Debussy to this?" He raised an eyebrow.
It was the same CD.” What CD? She mentions the CD and then we don’t find out what it is. I’m going to pretend that it’s Type O Negative’s Bloody Kisses. Why? Because we already know Bella is a pretentious twat, and having her getting pretentious over goth rock amuses me. Also, now I have to wonder if Edward stole that from her, or just bought exact copies of everything she owns.
“While he walked me to English, when he met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my existence.” That’s not romance. That’s sick. No one even reasonably sane would want to know everything about their squishy-buns.
“Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and books — endlessly books.” But she’ll never tell us what books. That’s the thing… we’re told Bella is a huge reader, but we’ve seen her reading twice, and once she was reading geocities sites on vampires. She never references books, ever. I do not know a single reader who only references books they’ve read by their titles.
“He'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that comes to mind.” And where were you on the night of January the 12th? Were you in anyway involved with the murder of the English language? You can continue to deny it, but we have ways of making you talk. Seriously, guys, interrogations =/= sexy.
“"Tell me," he finally commanded after persuasion failed” And when commanding and persuading fail, what then? Hitting?
“I worried it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I was.” So… she’s already scared of his rages.
“I sighed in relief, and continued with the psychoanalysis.” Psychoanalysis? He’d be psychoanalyzing if he was going in depth with anything, but instead, this seems to be a collection of random neural firings. There is nothing “deep” or “mysterious”, or any real knowledge to be gained by knowing all of her likes and dislikes, unless he thinks that by knowing that she prefers lilies to carnations, she’s more devoted to her virginity and not maternal. I have no idea if she does, and that’s one of those deceptive surface readings that a manipulator like Edward could easily make.
“I didn't look at him, afraid that if he was looking at me, it would only make self-control that much harder.” Oh, I see, the darkness makes you think of fucking him!
“Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, I felt bad about that. But I couldn't concentrate on him.” After all, he’s just a mundane and I can’t spare feelings for him acting the gentleman in comparison to my panty-melting sociopath.
“The pressure made me more clumsy than usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the same release when I saw him standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face.” One raise of those eyebrows, and I experience spontaneous orgasm.
This next section could have added some weight to her future sacrifice. She loves the sun, and to be with Edward, she would have to give it up. Except by that point, he’s got such a stranglehold over her that she doesn’t care.
“"Charlie!" I suddenly recalled his existence, and sighed.” Damn my stupid father for being alive!
“"It’s twilight," Edward murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds.” *eye-roll*
“"So is it my turn tomorrow, then?"
"Certainly not!" His face was teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"” So… he’s just being controlling again. He calls all the shots, and she obeys. Also, we were just told they had this epic conversation, but we saw no interaction at all. He just grilled her about likes and dislikes, and only interjected to ask another question or tell her to keep going. I think the thing that strikes me the most about Edward and Bella is how unaccountably boring they both are. They don’t care about or like anything, really.
“He glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," he said glumly.
He flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me.” Um… what?
“"Charlie's around the corner," he warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle.” You know, I think this is more their desperate desire for disapproval, so they can feel like they’re doing something illicit. Charlie praised the Cullens in the highest terms possible, and sneered at anyone who wouldn’t think they were just the salt of the earth as jealous and close-minded. So… wouldn’t he be thrilled that his daughter is getting close to this young man he thinks so highly of?
“His expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.” … Oh, my aching adjectives!
“And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in.” I’ll bet a single tear also courses down from those eyes when he sees pollution.
“Could he really believe the impossible legends his son had scoffed at?
The answer was clear in Billy's eyes. Yes. Yes, he could.” Geez, now someone is going to tell me I shouldn’t date an undead sucker of human blood. MY LIFE IS SO HARD!!!!