初中英语听力：《暮光之城》系列有声读物在线听，附听力内容：

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　　He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush.

　　"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once people

　　start throwing wet stuff, I go inside."

　　He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.

　　Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow;

　　apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth

　　shut. Sure, it was drier than rain — until it melted in your socks.

　　I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls

　　were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a

　　shield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my

　　expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.

　　Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice

　　melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly

　　about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that

　　table in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There

　　were five people at the table.

　　

　　Jessica pulled on my arm.

　　"Hello? Bella? What do you want?"

　　I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious,

　　I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

　　"What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica.

　　"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to the

　　end of the line.

　　"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked.

　　"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor.

　　I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table,

　　my eyes on my feet.

　　I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, with

　　unnecessary concern, how I was feeling.

　　I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and

　　escape to the nurse's office for the next hour.

　　Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.

　　I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If he

　　was glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was.

　　I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were

　　looking this way. I lifted my head a little.

　　They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair

　　entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away

　　as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the

　　snowy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like a scene

　　from a movie than the rest of us.

　　But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something

　　different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I

　　examined Edward the most carefully. His skin was less pale, I decided —

　　flushed from the snow fight maybe — the circles under his eyes much less

　　noticeable. But there was something more. I pondered, staring, trying to

　　isolate the change.

　　"Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my

　　stare.

　　At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine.

　　I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure,

　　though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harsh or

　　unfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious

　　again, unsatisfied in some way.

　　"Edward Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear.

　　"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help asking.

　　"No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should he be?"

　　"I don't think he likes me," I confided. I still felt queasy. I put my

　　head down on my arm.

　　"The Cullens don't like anybody… well, they don't notice anybody enough

　　to like them. But he's still staring at you."

　　"Stop looking at him," I hissed.

　　She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure

　　that she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.

　　

　　Mike interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard

　　in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed

　　enthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she

　　would be up for anything he suggested. I kept silent. I would have to

　　hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared.

　　For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own

　　table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since he

　　didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did frightened

　　little flips at the thought of sitting next to him again.

　　I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual — he seemed to

　　be a popular target for the snowball snipers — but when we went to the

　　door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all

　　traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the

　　walkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go

　　straight home after Gym.

　　Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

　　Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still

　　empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one

　　microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few

　　minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from

　　the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.

　　I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed

　　carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.

　　"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.

　　I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as far

　　away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His

　　hair was dripping wet, disheveled — even so, he looked like he'd just

　　finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was

　　friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were

　　careful.

　　"My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to

　　introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."

　　My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? He

　　was perfectly polite now. I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn't

　　think of anything conventional to say.

　　"H-how do you know my name?" I stammered.

　　He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.

　　"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for

　　you to arrive."

　　I grimaced. I knew it was something like that.

　　"No," I persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"

　　He seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?"

　　"No, I like Bella," I said. "But I think Charlie — I mean my dad — must

　　call me Isabella behind my back — that's what everyone here seems to know

　　me as," I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron.

　　"Oh." He let it drop. I looked away awkwardly.

　　Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to

　　concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides

　　in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate

　　the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they

　　represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our

　　books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it

　　right.

　　

　　"Get started," he commanded.

　　"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. I looked up to see him smiling a

　　crooked smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him like an idiot.

　　"Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviously

　　wondering if I was mentally competent.

　　"No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead."

　　I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab, and I knew

　　what I was looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first slide into

　　place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective.

　　I studied the slide briefly.

　　My assessment was confident. "Prophase."

　　"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to remove the slide. His

　　hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold,

　　like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't

　　why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my

　　hand as if an electric current had passed through us.

　　"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he

　　continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, still staggered, as

　　he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had.

　　"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."

　　Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical.

　　"Have you done this lab before?" he asked.

　　I smiled sheepishly. "Not with onion root."

　　"Whitefish blastula?"

　　"Yeah."

　　Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"

　　"Yes."

　　"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab

　　partners." He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, I

　　began doodling on my notebook again.

　　"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward asked. I had the feeling

　　that he was forcing himself to make small talk with me. Paranoia swept

　　over me again. It was like he had heard my conversation with Jessica at

　　lunch and was trying to prove me wrong.

　　"Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal

　　like everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of

　　suspicion, and I couldn't concentrate.

　　"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.

　　"Or the wet."

　　"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused.

　　"You have no idea," I muttered darkly.

　　He looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine.

　　His face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more

　　than courtesy absolutely demanded.

　　"Why did you come here, then?"

　　No one had asked me that — not straight out like he did, demanding.

　　"It's… complicated."

　　"I think I can keep up," he pressed.

　　I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting his

　　gaze. His dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.

　　"My mother got remarried," I said.

　　

　　"That doesn't sound so complex," he disagreed, but he was suddenly

　　sympathetic. "When did that happen?"

　　"Last September." My voice sounded sad, even to me.

　　"And you don't like him," Edward surmised, his tone still kind.

　　"No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough."

　　"Why didn't you stay with them?"

　　I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me with

　　penetrating eyes, as if my dull life's story was somehow vitally

　　important.

　　"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living." I half-smiled.

　　"Have I heard of him?" he asked, smiling in response.

　　"Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves

　　around a lot."

　　"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." He

　　said it as an assumption again, not a question.

　　My chin raised a fraction. "No, she did not send me here. I sent myself."