The Experiment [RENESMEE CULLEN]

22

My beaten-up iPod shows me that it's still too early for lunch. I can barely wait for it and neither can my stomach. I've been hungrier lately. I crave not only every interaction with Jacob but as well as random foods.

Jacob has been introducing me to snacks my grandfather rarely allow. My favourite has to be the KitKat chocolate bar.

As I reach out for my iPod to check the time again (oh, how impatient I am for lunch to come!), I touch the Home button but nothing happens. My screen freezes. I hate these glitches.

Perhaps it's time to get a new one. The question is... how do I convince my parents to buy it for me?

"I mean, look at it, Ness," Jake is inspecting my iPod later in the afternoon, when we are in the bathrooms, "It's shattered! You need a new one, definitely. And I can even help you set it up, I know a couple of things," he winks and I chuckle.

Jacob's warm eyes remind me of mine - his are the same colour as the dark chocolate I've grown to hate ever since I discovered KitKats. But that does not mean I hate Jacob's eyes. On the contrary, I love them. They're different than my family's amber ones; or Glenda and Gary's. I hope Glenda's baby inherits her grey eyes - they're so unique.

Jacob's smile is friendly and inviting, as his aura is. It makes me forget about the troubles I have to endure on a daily basis.

In the evening, as I am spending time with my dad, I pop the question:

"Father, my iPod is beaten up and does not work properly anymore. Can I have a new one, please?"

My father looks at me askew, as if I have just told him I am about to pierce my nose. "What? We can just go and get it fixed."

"Oh, come on, Edward! This iPod is almost seven years old! I doubt anyone would have the parts to fix it properly," My mother comes to my rescue. Bless her! "Besides, Carlisle said she's been excelling in her studies," and she strokes my chin lovingly, probably feeling proud of me. I knew it that working hard would pay off!

My father gives up finally when I present my last argument: that the Apple Store is probably still open and my mother uses her phone to verify.

On the next day, Jacob has a look at my shiny new iPod. While I can access music libraries and books with only one touch, that doesn't mean I can use the Internet freely. But Jacob is set on fixing that for me so that we can talk even outside of the bathroom.

By the end of the day, I can download applications to read and write or to simply watch movies. But nothing can replace the good old conversations with someone, even if you have the most and the best songs or movies in the world.

I can't help but laugh a little too loudly at the nickname Jacob has chosen for himself in my new contacts list.