"Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our
worksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and
then glanced at it cursorily.

"Anaphase," he murmured, writing it down as he spoke.

I kept my voice indifferent. "May I?"

He smirked and pushed the microscope to me.

I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it,
he was right.

"Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at him.

He handed it to me; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch my
skin again.

I took the most fleeting look I could manage.

"Interphase." I passed him the microscope before he could ask for it. He
took a swift peek, and then wrote it down. I would have written it while
he looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated me. I didn't want to
spoil the page with my clumsy scrawl.

We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his
partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their
book open under the table.

Which left me with nothing to do but try to not look at him…
unsuccessfully. I glanced up, and he was staring at me, that same
inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly I identified that
subtle difference in his face.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly.

He seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. "No."

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your
eyes."

He shrugged, and looked away.

In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered

the flat black color of his eyes the last time he'd glared at me — the
color was striking against the background of his pale skin and his auburn
hair. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher,
darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. I didn't
understand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason about
the contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the literal sense of
the word.

I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists again.

Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. He
looked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared
more intently to check the answers.

"So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the
microscope?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Bella," Edward corrected automatically. "Actually, she identified three
of the five."

打开的书（10）

    "是前期，"他同意我的判断，并在我们的活页练习题的第一个空白处工整地记下来了。他迅速将第一块玻璃片拿走，换上了第二块，然后好奇地瞅了一眼。

    "后期，"他低声说道，边说边记了下来。

    我尽力保持我的语调如常，"我可以看一下吗？"

    他得意地笑了一下，把显微镜推给了我。

    我急切地把眼睛对准了目镜，结果很失望。该死，他没弄错。

    "第三块呢？"我伸出了手，连看都没看他一眼。

    他递给了我；看上去他好像很小心，生怕再一次碰到我的皮肤。

    我以最快的速度看了一眼。

    "间期。"他还没来得及要，我就把显微镜递给了他。他快速地扫了一眼，便记下了。他看的时候我本来可以记的，但他那一手秀丽、优美的字把我吓得不敢班门弄斧了。我不想我那笨拙不堪的鬼画符把作业纸给毁了。

    在所有的小组都还没头绪的时候，我们第一个完成了实验。我看见迈克和他的搭档拿着两块玻璃片在那里比来比去，另外一组则在桌子下面翻着书。

    这让我无事可做了，惟一可做的就是努力不去看他……结果还是没忍住。我抬头瞥了一眼，而他正盯着我看，眼神还跟原来一样，充满了莫明其妙的失望之情。

    "你戴了隐形眼镜？"我想都没想就冒出这么一句话。

    他似乎让我这出乎意料的问题给问蒙了："没有。"

    "噢，"我咕哝道，"我觉得你的眼睛有什么地方不一样了。"

    他耸了耸肩，望到一边去了。

    实际上，我敢肯定有什么地方变了。我清清楚楚地记得，上次他瞪我那一眼的时候，两眼是百分之百的黑色——和他苍白的皮肤及赤褐色的头发形成了极为明显的反差。今天，他的双眼完全是不同的颜色：一种怪怪的浅橘黄色，比淡棕色要深一点，但却有着同样的金色调。我不明白这怎么可能，除非他出于某种原因，不承认自己戴了隐形眼镜。要不可能就是福克斯使得我成了真正的疯子了。

    我垂下了头。他的双手又使劲地攥成了坚硬的拳头了。

    这时，班纳先生过来了，来看我们为什么不做实验。他的目光越过我们的肩膀，瞅了一眼已经完成的试验，然后更加目不转睛地检查了我们的答案。

    "看来，爱德华，你认为伊萨贝拉不应该有机会摸一摸显微镜喽？"班纳先生问道。

    "是贝拉，"爱德华不假思索地予以了纠正，"实际上，5个当中有3个是她找出来的。"