2008م - 1444هـ
Breaking Dawn
No one is staring at you, I promised myself. No one is staring at you. No one is staring
at you.
But, because I couldn’t lie convincingly even to myself, I had to check.
As I sat waiting for one of the three traffic lights in town to turn green, I peeked to the
right—in her minivan, Mrs. Weber had turned her whole torso in my direction. Her eyes
bored into mine, and I flinched back, wondering why she didn’t drop her gaze or look
ashamed. It was still considered rude to stare at people, wasn’t it? Didn’t that apply to
me anymore?
Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no
idea if it was even me in here, let alone that I’d caught her looking. I tried to take some
comfort in the fact that she wasn’t really staring at me, just the car.
My car. Sigh.
I glanced to the left and groaned. Two pedestrians were frozen on the sidewalk, missing
their chance to cross as they stared. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was gawking through
the plate-glass window of his little souvenir shop. At least he didn’t have his nose
pressed up against the glass. Yet.
The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape, I stomped on the gas pedal without
thinking—the normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck
moving.
Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body
slammed into the black leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine.
“Arg!” I gasped as I fumbled for the brake. Keeping my head, I merely tapped the
pedal. The car lurched to an absolute standstill anyway.
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