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Chapter Two: A Day in the Life of...: Edward Anthony Masen Cullen

"STOP CALLING US!!!" I slammed the phone down into the cradle. Dammit! What part of "Bella does not love you and she never will for as long as the universe exists" did Mike Newton not understand?! "Stay away from my wife," I thought as I glared at the phone in frustration. Even when Bella told him herself, face-to-face, he didn't get it. He never did. And when I was looking directly at him having to listen to his damn thoughts, the urge to rip his head off didn't exactly go away. As the last few notes to the song Renesmee was playing on the piano faded away, her thoughts drifted into the room, the way a leaf drifts on the breeze. "Maybe I could do that for the talent show at school that's coming up...Yeah...That'd be cool. Play 'I'm not That Girl' on the piano...or maybe I could sing it...Sing and play it? Or sing another song, maybe? It'd be kinda cool if I sang 'No Good Deed.' Huh. I'll have to decide soon..."

To be honest, I really don't know whose *insert sarcastic tone* genius *end sarcasim* idea it was to invent sun-screen. And why SPF 50? I mean, it's not like there's a formula that's more powerful than the one for SPF 30. At least, not yet, anyway. But still. What monkey-headed bafoon thought of the stuff, anyway? It was one of those rare, sunny days in Forks, so Seth and Leah had gone to First Beach to make the most of the sun while it lasted. Of course, they didn't want to get sun-burned, so they took a bottle of sun-screen. It didn't work. Not for Seth. Poor kid had turned bright red and pink on every single exposed surface of his body. He couldn't even sit down to watch T.V or to play a video game with Emmett and Jasper. Couldn't do anything, pretty much. Too painful. And seeing the memories of how he slowly went from tan skin to giant cherry in Leah's head wasn't very much fun. That's the thing about being able to read the minds of those around you. Sometimes you heard things you regret hearing. Saw things they imagined that you wished you hadn't seen. Watched them re-play memories over and over again in their heads. Memories that--the majority of the time--seem so...personal and...personal that you feel like you were there when those personal moments happened, or you were eavesdropping on their personal conversations when they were having the conversations. And then you felt like...you had to apologize for intruding in on their personal life. Sure, it comes in handy when someone is lying, and it's fun to listen to Mike Newton's secrets and then tell him, "Hey, Mike, I know your dirty little secret and I'm gonna tell everyone if you don't leave Bella alone," just to look at his face and hear is internal reaction, but, most of the rest of the time...it sucked, if you'll excuse the poor choice of words.

Description
Chapter Two: A Day in the Life of...: Edward Anthony Masen Cullen

"STOP CALLING US!!!" I slammed the phone down into the cradle. Dammit! What part of "Bella does not love you and she never will for as long as the universe exists" did Mike Newton not understand?! "Stay away from my wife," I thought as I glared at the phone in frustration. Even when Bella told him herself, face-to-face, he didn't get it. He never did. And when I was looking directly at him having to listen to his damn thoughts, the urge to rip his head off didn't exactly go away. As the last few notes to the song Renesmee was playing on the piano faded away, her thoughts drifted into the room, the way a leaf drifts on the breeze. "Maybe I could do that for the talent show at school that's coming up...Yeah...That'd be cool. Play 'I'm not That Girl' on the piano...or maybe I could sing it...Sing and play it? Or sing another song, maybe? It'd be kinda cool if I sang 'No Good Deed.' Huh. I'll have to decide soon..."

To be honest, I really don't know whose *insert sarcastic tone* genius *end sarcasim* idea it was to invent sun-screen. And why SPF 50? I mean, it's not like there's a formula that's more powerful than the one for SPF 30. At least, not yet, anyway. But still. What monkey-headed bafoon thought of the stuff, anyway? It was one of those rare, sunny days in Forks, so Seth and Leah had gone to First Beach to make the most of the sun while it lasted. Of course, they didn't want to get sun-burned, so they took a bottle of sun-screen. It didn't work. Not for Seth. Poor kid had turned bright red and pink on every single exposed surface of his body. He couldn't even sit down to watch T.V or to play a video game with Emmett and Jasper. Couldn't do anything, pretty much. Too painful. And seeing the memories of how he slowly went from tan skin to giant cherry in Leah's head wasn't very much fun. That's the thing about being able to read the minds of those around you. Sometimes you heard things you regret hearing. Saw things they imagined that you wished you hadn't seen. Watched them re-play memories over and over again in their heads. Memories that--the majority of the time--seem so...personal and...personal that you feel like you were there when those personal moments happened, or you were eavesdropping on their personal conversations when they were having the conversations. And then you felt like...you had to apologize for intruding in on their personal life. Sure, it comes in handy when someone is lying, and it's fun to listen to Mike Newton's secrets and then tell him, "Hey, Mike, I know your dirty little secret and I'm gonna tell everyone if you don't leave Bella alone," just to look at his face and hear is internal reaction, but, most of the rest of the time...it sucked, if you'll excuse the poor choice of words.