New Moon Chapter 5

So since the last chapter wasn’t ass-numbingly dull enough, we now join Bella at her boring, boring retail job. Yes, I do want to shoot myself.

“BELLA, WHY DON’T YOU TAKE OFF,” MIKE SUGGESTED, his eyes focused off to the side, not really looking at me. I wondered how long that had been going on without me noticing.

“Seriously, you need to get off work right now. Your face is frightening little kids. And it’s sort of freaking me out too….”

So it turns out that Bella’s boring job is even more boring than usual today, to the point where we have to hear two hikers talking.

But they’d taken a break from serious pricing to indulge in trying to one-up each other with their latest tales from the trail.

“Oh yeah? Well, I rescued a cat from a pack of ravenous wolves!”
“Oh yeah? Well, I rescued a baby from a pack of RABID WOLVERINES!”
“Oh yeah? Well, I had to saw off my own leg with a sharpened stick after I got a mosquito bite!”
“Oh yeah? Well, I put out a forest fire with my urine alone!”
“Oh yeah? Well, I made first contact with an alien species that crashed up in there in the mountains, and was gifted with psychic powers!”
“Oh yeah? I’M GOD, BITCH.”

No, actually they talk about how they saw giant grizzly bears in the woods, and by “giant” I mean freakishly huge. Wow! I wonder if they happened to see the werewolves that nobody in the area seems to have ever noticed before Bella came onto the scene! Because as we all know, wolves look just like bears and are mistaken for bears ALL the time.

Oh wait, no they don’t. They have fur and they walk on four legs, and there the resemblance ends. If that wolf were the size of a horse, you wouldn’t suddenly think, “Oh no, a bear!” You would think, “Oh no, a wolf the size of a horse!… which is both terrifying and awesome. I wonder if I can ride it.”

So Mike urges Bella to please get her navel-gazing ass out of his store, while the guys keep debating whether one of the hikers really saw Sasquatch…. uh, giant bears that happened to look like wolves.

“On all fours it was taller than you,” the bearded man insisted while I gathered my things together. “Big as a house and pitch-black. I’m going to report it to the ranger here. People ought to be warned—this wasn’t up on the mountain, mind you—this was only a few miles from the trailhead.”

  1. Again, there better be a DAMN GOOD REASON why nobody ever noticed the werewolves in the area before Bawla came onto the scene.
  2. And if there isn’t, I shall have to set fire to this book. Again.
  3. Also, I cry BULLSHIT at the idea that the werewolves are taller than a grown man WHILE ON ALL FOURS. As we soon find out, these werewolves are actually all teenage boys (and one girl who cannot measure up to Bella’s awesomeness) who conveniently developed werewolf powers at the same fucking time.
  4. So what, is Smeyer seriously suggesting that a teenage boy can what, QUADRUPLE or more in mass?! Because somehow I doubt these werewolves are featherweights.
  5. But oh, who am I kidding? Smeyer just assraped science once again. This is, after all, the woman who thinks that extra genes will give you werewolf superpowers instead of Down Syndrome.
  6. So somewhere, the Law of Conservation of Mass is crying naked in a bathtub.

Okay, in case anybody reading this does not know what that is, I shall tell you. This law basically means that matter cannot be created or destroyed, only redistributed or changed in form. In a closed system where matter can’t be added or taken away, the amount of matter will remain a constant. That is why an amount of liquid will turn into a smaller but denser amount of Jell-O. Simple, no?

This means there are three possible explanations for how a buff but normal-sized teenage boy – or even a grown man – could turn into a Clydesdale-sized werewolf.

  1. The werewolves are big but not very dense, meaning they still weigh as much as a teenage boy and you could probably punch them out with no trouble. Sort of like giant styrofoam werewolves. Not very scary, huh?
  2. They’re somehow acquiring bodily mass, meaning they would have to spontaneously absorb other matter INTO THEIR BODIES every time they changed shape. Of course, this wouldn’t explain where the boulders would go AFTER they changed back.
  3. Smeyer pulled this out of her ass because it sounded cool, science be damned.

Based on prior experience, I’m going to bet #3 is the right one.

And even though she’s totally uninterested in the conversation, Bella somehow notices the whole damn thing as she oozes out the door. And if you were hoping that her being SEMI-normal in this scene meant she had decided to act like the mature adult she claims she is, you will be horribly, horribly disappointed.

No, instead she whines about how she doesn’t wanna go home because she had a bad dream and was in SUUUUUUUCCCCHHHH PAAAAAAIIINNNNN.

I always had nightmares now, every night.

But she doesn’t need psychiatric help, and HOW DARE you suggest she does, you prick!

You’d think I’d get bored after so many months, grow immune to it.

Oh, I dunno. I’ve been reading this pretentious emo crap for months, and you’d think I would get immune to THAT.

But the dream never failed to horrify me, and only ended when I woke myself with screaming. Charlie didn’t come in to see what was wrong anymore, to make sure there was no intruder strangling me or something like that—he was used to it now.

And for some reason, he says that “I still live in hope.”

Yes, these are the actions of a loving parent: just ignore the hysterical screams. Sounds like Charlie is just over Bella’s pretentious emo ass.

So what is this nightmare that causes her to wake up shrieking EVERY SINGLE NIGHT? Why, it’s a nightmare about wandering aimlessly in the woods, and then forgetting what she was looking for, and then she realizes that she’s not looking for anything. As recurring dreams go, this is pretty lame.

I wasn’t paying attention to where I was driving—just wandering through empty, wet side roads as I avoided the ways that would take me home—because I didn’t have anywhere to go.

I ran over several dogs, two old ladies and various children because I was too miserable to notice them. Their screaming agony couldn’t match mine!

Bella sits in there whining about how she wants to be numb, and she has bad dreams, and she’s in such pain, and those starving orphans with AIDS in third-world countries have no idea what suffering is, for none in this world have suffered as Bella Swan has!

Even as I shuddered away from the images, I felt my eyes fill with tears and the aching begin around the edges of the hole in my chest. I took one hand from the steering wheel and wrapped it around my torso to hold it in one piece.

HOLY SHIT, is she hallucinating?! There is no hole in your fucking chest, idiot. And insisting that there IS and you actually have to hold your torso together means that you are OFF YOUR FUCKING ROCKER and need psychiatric help. Oh, but nothing is as insulting as being told that you’re acting like a crazy person!

So then Bella starts hearing self-destructive suicidal crazywords go through her head, which gives us more pointless emo-ness. Honestly, this chapter is BORING. Can we please go back to the two hunters and Mike?

It will be as if I’d never existed.

As if I’d never been written into a horribly-written vampire story by a sexually-frustrated Mormon housewife.

I curled over, pressing my face against the steering wheel and trying to breathe without lungs.

I also tried to walk without feet and whine without a mouth.

Maybe someday, years from now—if the pain would just decrease to the point where I could bear it—I would be able to look back on those few short months that would always be the best of my life.

“Of course, that wouldn’t be hard, since if I spent years and years like this, Charlie would probably have me committed and I’d spend the rest of my lonely, miserable, pointless existence in a straitjacket on large amounts of drugs.”

But what if this hole never got any better? If the raw edges never healed? If the damage was permanent and irreversible?

Then hopefully Bella would put a bullet through her own head and spare the rest of us her whining.

As if he’d never existed, I thought in despair. What a stupid and impossible promise to make!

Doesn’t he know that Stus are unforgettable?!

I was changed, my insides altered almost past the point of recognition.

I now had six kidneys, two spleens, no small intestine and a pair of eyestalks in each lung.

Even my outsides looked different—my face sallow, white except for the purple circles the nightmares had left under my eyes. 

sal·low 1 (sl)
adj. sal·low·er, sal·low·est
Of a sickly yellowish hue or complexion.

Sallow does not = WHITE.

My eyes were dark enough against my pallid skin that—if I were beautiful, and seen from a distance—I might even pass for a vampire now. But I was not beautiful, and I probably looked closer to a zombie.

So since I’m erratic, bitchy, whiny and look like a zombie, I decided to switch stories to My Immortal.

So Bella sits in the car HITTING HER HEAD and thinking about how she wants to kill herself.

Where was the logic in sticking to an agreement that had already been violated by the other party?

There isn’t. Now run your pickup off a cliff like a good little Sue.

Who cared if I was reckless and stupid? There was no reason to avoid recklessness, no reason why I shouldn’t get to be stupid.

Uh, suicidal and self-destructive behavior is not always “reckless.” A person can be perfectly cool and calm and rational about shooting themselves in the head.

But how silly I am! This is Twilight, where all women are flaky irrational hysterical creatures who must be kept from self-harm by the big-strong smart MEN.

I laughed humorlessly to myself, still gasping for air. Reckless in Forks—now there was a hopeless proposition.

… huh? What, you can only be reckless in large cities? I don’t get it.

So Bella sits there for awhile, trying to figure out the best ways to be “reckless” in a small town.

But I wished I could find some way… I might feel better if I weren’t holding fast, all alone, to a broken pact. If I were an oath-breaker, too.

“I would feel SO much better if I was randomly hurting myself just to say “fuck you” to my ex!”

Also, she claims Edward broke his promise by not somehow WIPING OUT HER MEMORIES. What, would he have only kept his promise if he bashed her on the head with a pipe to give her amnesia?

But how could I cheat on my side of the deal, here in this harmless little town?

One word, chickie boo: meth. Since a woman’s natural place is in the kitchen cooking for the menfolk, Charlie will never notice the lab you set up on the kitchen table.

Of course, Forks hadn’t always been so harmless, but now it was exactly what it had always appeared to be. It was dull, it was safe.

At least until Pennywise the Clown rises again and devours the town’s children!

Since Bella’s emo-ness cannot be fully expressed by sitting in a car, she gets out of the truck and wanders around in the rain, and of course, Smeyer talks about how the rain trickled across my cheeks like freshwater tears. Wooowwww… that’s, like, SO deep. Because she like, has RAIN on her face, and it’s like TEARS because they’re both water, and that is SO original because, like, NOBODY has ever written something like that before!

It was wrong to wander the way I had, distracted and impaired, a menace on the roads of Forks.

…. wait, what is this? Is that a… selfless moment? A moment where Bella puts the well-being of others above her enormously bloated egotistical self?! CAN IT BE?

Besides, someone would notice me soon enough, and report me to Charlie.

Never mind. Back to your regularly-scheduled douchebaggery.

And now, after hours of emo whining, FINALLY something happens, which Smeyer presents in THE SINGLE MOST MELODRAMATIC way possible.

a sign in the Markses’ yard caught my eye—it was just a big piece of cardboard leaning against their mailbox post, with black letters scrawled in caps across it.

It said, “Cheap meth inside, will trade for sex.” Somehow I knew this sign was meant for me alone!

Sometimes, kismet happens.

…. okay, uh, that’s not how the saying goes. I know you’re Mormon and everything, but that is NOT the phrase.

Coincidence? Or was it meant to be? I didn’t know, but it seemed kind of silly to think that it was somehow fated, that the dilapidated motorcycles rusting in the Markses’ front yard beside the hand-printed FOR SALE, AS IS sign were serving some higher purpose by existing there, right where I needed them to be.

REALLY? You’re telling me that it’s SILLY to imagine that the universe is rearranging itself so Bella Swan can become a cutter because her boyfriend of six months dumped her ass? That it’s SILLY that capitalized Fate/Destiny are setting out to give a bratty emo teen everything she wants for her orgy of self-destructive behavior? That Bella is somehow… SPECIAL and deserves to have the stars realign themselves so that she will be given what she wants?


So maybe it wasn’t kismet. Maybe there were just all kinds of ways to be reckless, and I only now had my eyes open to them.

I was shopping at Staples for some Scotch tape and a ruler when I saw the sign, taped over a large cardboard box, printed in Times New Roman, Font Size 24. Was it fate? Was it mean to be? Had the world rearranged itself for humble ugly yet super-brainy and mature little me? It seemed silly to think that those long, smooth, gleaming scissors were fated to be mine, exactly where and when I needed them for my new cutting habit!

We’re also told that Charlie hates motorcycles, because apparently there are a lot of them in that area. I have no idea if it’s true or if Smeyer is talking out of her ass, especially since you can tell just by looking at her that if you showed her a motorcycle, she would giggle and flutter.

He’d made me promise before I was ten that I would never accept a ride on a motorcycle. Even at that age, I didn’t have to think twice before promising. Who would want to ride a motorcycle here? It would be like taking a sixty-mile-per-hour bath.

  1. Plus, then you’d be like, DOING something and GOING places, which means you couldn’t just lie there and whine about how much Forks sucks!
  2. Everybody KNOWS that people on motorcycles aren’t smart and mature, like Bella!
  3. So, when she was living in Arizona, she promised she wouldn’t accept a motorcycle ride…. because it wouldn’t be fun in a town she visits occasionally?!
  4. Yeah, among the many charming messages that Smeyer smushed into this series, one of the minor ones is “All motorcycles are evil death machines that only self-destructive mentally-ill emo people would ever ride. If you ride a motorcycle, you’ll crash and die.”
  5. It’s like the vehicular version of “If you have sex, you’ll get pregnant. And die.”
  6. I guess buying a razor and cutting herself wasn’t flashy enough for Bella.

It clicked together for me then. I wanted to be stupid and reckless, and I wanted to break promises. Why stop at one?

  1. You’re already stupid.
  2. And you’re already reckless, since you leap crotch-first at strange abusive boys who fantasize about killing you.
  3. So yeah, already there.
  4. A minute ago her justification was that she didn’t have to keep her promise because Edward INADVERTANTLY didn’t keep his by… I dunno, not bashing her on the head to give her amnesia. So how does she justify breaking a promise to her dad?
  5. Answer: because she wants to, that’s why!

So Bella goes up to the door and Minor Character #573 answers it.  Bella assures us that she doesn’t remember his name, since he isn’t hot or rich… but don’t worry, she DOES remember Edward’s nickname for his sparkling penis (it’s the “Thrusting Marble Pillar”). So they dicker for a few minutes about the bikes, which are basically scrap metal, but Bawla wants them anyway.

So blah blah blah, Bella is snotty and annoyed at the kid for daring to point out stuff she magically knows already, like “they don’t work” and “there’s a family of squirrels living under them.” The kid helps her load the motorcycles onto the truck, and tells her not to take it to the local mechanic, who we will never hear about ever again.

“What are you going to do with them, anyway?” he asked. “They haven’t worked in years.”

“We’re perfectly matched! I haven’t done anything in years either, and I make a horrible grating whine when I’m turned on.”
“… oh, okay. Um, TMI.”

So however can Bawla get her Death Machines Of Death into working order? Why, she’ll take them to Jacob Buttmonkey, I mean Black.

Inspiration hit like a bolt of lightning—not unreasonable, considering the storm.

It was DRIZZLING. There isn’t a lot of lightning during drizzles, dumbass.

“Oh. That’s good.” He smiled in relief.
He waved as I pulled away, still smiling. Friendly kid.

Yes, he’s a nice kid, that teenage peer of mine whose name I didn’t even bother to remember because he’s not a rich sparkly vampire.

So Bella goes home, calls her dad’s office, and Charlie immediately assumes that there’s a massive crisis like, oh, I dunno, Bella stubbed her toe and it hurts, or she’s having an angstgasm and wandered off a cliff.

“Can’t I call you at work without there being an emergency?”
He was quiet for a minute. “You never have before. Is there an emergency?”

Our heroine! Emotionally neglecting and lying to the people she allegedly loves!

She asks for directions to the Blacks’ house, which makes Charlie very happy. Yeah, he is obviously hoping she’ll hook up with Jacob now that her asshole ex-boyfriend is gone, not that Bella is using Jacob because she’s a cheap bitch and wants free auto maintenance. I wonder if she does her Jessica Rabbit impression again.

I hoped I could get Jacob alone. Billy would probably tell on me if he knew what I was up to.

Because a teenager with a motorcycle could ONLY be self-destructive. There’s no other reason!

While I drove, I worried a little bit about Billy’s reaction to seeing me. He would be too pleased. In Billy’s mind, no doubt, this had all worked out better than he had dared to hope. His pleasure and relief would only remind me of the one I couldn’t bear to be reminded of.

  1. … or maybe he won’t act like Bella, and will keep his emotions to himself.
  2. Or maybe he WILL act pleased, since she’s been an emo blob of self-indulgent wangst for MONTHS and he knows it, and this is the first time she’s bothered to do anything else.
  3. And why would he be pleased to see her? How is seeing her meaning things are “working out” as far as he’s concerned?
  4. It sounds like she’s convinced that Billy desperately wants her to date his son.
  5. Yo, Bella: he probably wants the exact opposite. Why would he care about YOU or want anything to do with you? You’re whiny, selfish, obsessed with your ex and don’t care about anyone else. Exactly why would he want his son to date THAT?

So when Bella gets there, Jacob comes running out to meet her. He’s excited, because he still doesn’t know her very well and hasn’t figured out that she’s a snotty bitch.

His excited grin stretched wide across his face, the bright teeth standing in vivid contrast to the deep russet color of his skin.

Wow, going for the politically-correct approach, are you, Smeyer?

I have yet to see anyone with that color skin, unless they had been STRANGLED TO DEATH.

I’d never seen his hair out of its usual ponytail before. It fell like black satin curtains on either side of his broad face.

… if he’s wearing skin-tight thigh-high boots, I will run screaming into the woods.

So Bella ogles Jacob and thinks how he doesn’t look like a kid anymore, but like a hot teenager who Smeyer obviously wants to bang like a door. And since Edward’s Thrusting Marble Pillar is thousands of miles from her, Bella’s skank senses tingle at the presence of a supernatural teenager who can dive in to save her whenever contrived peril comes her way.

I felt an unfamiliar surge of enthusiasm at his smile. I realized that I was pleased to see him. This knowledge surprised me.

I was so used to hating everyone and everything that this was a HUGE shock.

I smiled back, and something clicked silently into place, like two corresponding puzzle pieces. I’d forgotten how much I really liked Jacob Black.

Yes, she liked him so much that she hasn’t spoken to him in over half a year, manipulated him for information, FORGOT she liked him, and only goes to see him because she can get free auto work out of him. Yeah, she likes him a LOT, Bawla Wan style!

“You grew again!” I accused in amazement.

ac·cuse (-kyz)
v. ac·cused, ac·cus·ing, ac·cus·es To charge with a shortcoming or error.
2. To charge formally with a wrongdoing.
v.intr.To make a charge of wrongdoing against another.

“Six five,” he announced with self-satisfaction. His voice was deeper, but it had the husky tone I remembered.
“Is it ever going to stop?” I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re huge.”

“According to Laurell K. Hamilton, you’re too tall for us to have missionary sex!”
“… uh, where did that come from?”
“Oh nowhere. Just thinking.”

So Jacob takes her inside to meet Billy, who is perfectly polite and normal, and not gloatingly overjoyed as Bella assumed he’d be. Yeah, Smeyer demonized an anti-Cullen character – a non-white one, note – for no good reason. I’m sure that Bella, who excuses MURDER if a super-white person does it, will never assume the worst about a non-white person again.

They sit there and talk about nothing at all, with Bella trying to squirm out of staying for dinner.

I laughed to hide my discomfort. “It’s not like you’ll never see me again. I promise I’ll be back again soon—so much you’ll get sick of me.”

I got sick of her on the first page. It shouldn’t take the Quileutes long.

After all, if Jacob could fix the bike, someone had to teach me how to ride it.

Yes, because if you know how to fix a car, you MUST know how to ride a motorcycle!

I was strangely comfortable here. It was familiar, but only distantly. There were no painful reminders of the recent past.

“… mainly because I never came here, because I was too busy dry-humping and sharing makeup tips with my sparkly boyfriend.”

And since the universe is rearranging itself to give Bawla exactly what she wants FOR FREE, Jacob was planning to go do auto repair right before she turned up. So Bawla trails after him and they have a boring conversation about cars, which she is obviously totally uninterested in.

Billy wanted me to stay a safe distance from the most important person in my life.

That super-important person who regularly mocked me, bossed me around, threatened me and treated me like dog shit! How I miss him!

I was all too safe now.
But I was going to see what I could do to change that.

Remember, girls! If a boy dumps you, you should immediately put yourself in danger to express your wangst and misery. That is the normal response!

So since the stars are aligning to allow personal self-destruction, it turns out that Jacob knows a little about motorcycles due to a friend of his having a dirt bike. I guess said friend let him take it apart or something, because having a friend with a machine doesn’t give you knowledge of it. And he’s more than happy to get them in working order, but doesn’t want Bawla to pay him. How delightfully predictable – our Sue can’t possibly spend any of her money on BUYING a motorcycle or having an old one restored. No, she gets the motorcycles FOR FREE and has a convenient buttmonkey to provide labor and parts FOR FREE. Are angels going to turn up with solid gold motorcycle parts too?

“The thing is,” I explained, “Charlie doesn’t approve of motorcycles. Honestly, he’d probably bust a vein in his forehead if he knew about this. So you can’t tell Billy.”

“Plus, I totally plan to run off cliffs and go way too fast on this thing…”
“Uh, that doesn’t seem like a good idea.”
“… because I’m so angsty and unhappy that I want to endanger myself.”
“Um, on second thought…”
“I TOTALLY would start cutting myself and taking drugs, but that’s so ORDINARY and not something I could be rescued from by a hot supernatural boy.”

“I’ll pay you,” I continued.
This offended him. “No. I want to help. You can’t pay me.”

How wonderfully convenient. Not only is he happy to take time out of his LIFE (he has one, unlike Bella) to give her a working motorcycle, but he isn’t even going to charge her even though they probably need a bunch of new parts and lots of TLC (like sanding off the rust). No, he’s perfectly happy to flush money down the toilet, because heaven forbid Bella Swan not get a working motorcycle FOR FUCKING FREE.

“Well… how about a trade, then?” I was making this up as I went, but it seemed reasonable enough. “I only need one bike—and I’ll need lessons, too. So how about this? I’ll give you the other bike, and then you can teach me.”

“I mean, it’s not like poor people have anything better to do than serve a middle-class white girl. So in exchange for this rusty non-working bike that someone left in the trash heap, you’ll spend a bunch of money getting the other one functional AND spend hours teaching me how to ride it even though you’ve never ridden one before. For free. Isn’t that generous of me?”

No, of course Jacob is more than happy to squander money and time for Bella’s sake. He also offers to have “Bella’s Buttmonkey” tattooed on his face, but that doesn’t interest her.

“Wait a sec—are you legal yet? When’s your birthday?”

… yeah, this is taking us into uncomfortable Anita Blake territory.

And since the age of consent in Washington is 16, that’s the age that Jacob is now. Ew. Remember, a thirtysomething woman wrote this! Bella didn’t notice, mainly because she was too busy kissing Cullen ass and/or moping about the lack of sparkly penis.

“What are you, forty?”
I sniffed. “Close.”

“Even though I act like a stereotypical teenager all the time, I take pride in being fusty, bitter and prematurely middle-aged. It means I’m MATURE. Mature people act like old ladies.”

Bella aspires to be seen as one of these.

Then Bella is stupid enough to say the word “date” to a guy she flirted with and who obviously has the hots for her. Oopsie, Bawla forgot for half a second that she’s totally irresistible.

I needed to reign in the enthusiasm before I gave him the wrong idea—it was just that it had been a long time since I’d felt so light and buoyant. The rarity of the feeling made it more difficult to manage.

“Jacob, I don’t want you to get the idea that I actually LIKE you, because my heart will always belong to the sparkly asshole who dumped me without any warning and left me alone in the woods. Plus, you’re poor and an Indian, so you’re TOTALLY not right for me. But since you’re hot, I’ll mess around with you until my boyfriend inevitably comes back. Zat okay?”

Oh, and total fail on the super-smart Smeyer’s part – it’s “rein” in, not “reign.” Also, fail on her editor’s part.

So Jacob drags the bikes into the SHRUBBERY, making sure they’ll be wetter and rustier than they already were, unless Smeyer’s forgotten what the weather is again.

“These aren’t half bad,” Jacob appraised as we pushed them through the cover of the trees. “This one here will actually be worth something when I’m done—it’s an old Harley Sprint.”
“That one’s yours, then.”
“Are you sure?”

“I mean, it’s not like I actually give a crap about the motorcycles. Like, I’m too smart and bookish for THAT. I just want something that will go really fast and then fatally flatten me against a tree trunk.”

However, the bikes need some money poured into them, and since Bella can’t possibly wait for her suicidal stunts, she offers to pay for them.

“I don’t know…” he muttered.

“I was really looking forward to wasting my money and time for a girl I barely know. This is really a bummer.”

So what is Bella using to finance this? Why, her college fund! Apparently her goal is to hang around Forks for the rest of her life, doing a part-time minimum-wage job and doing housewifely shit for her dad. Why? Because she once dated a boy here and then he moved away! She should spend her whole life living in a backwards town she hates, surrounded by people she despises, never doing anything or making anything of her life… BECAUSE A BOY DUMPED HER AND HER LIFE IS OVER.

It amazes me that Smeyer doesn’t get why feminists hate her work. Yeah, according to her, college is not a woman should do for self-enrichment, for learning, or so she can have a successful career, or even the possibility of a LIFE independent of a man. It’s just what girls who don’t have a MAN go to because they have nothing better to do! And if your boyfriend dumps you, you have no future anyway.

And don’t forget, girls! If a guy dumps you, then don’t bother having a LIFE or a CAREER or a FUTURE, or even OTHER RELATIONSHIPS. You should just hang around the town he used to live in, and mope for the rest of your life about how much you love him and what pain you’re in.

Jacob just nodded. This all made perfect sense to him.

… WHY? Why would it make perfect sense to him that she’s dropped the idea of college and is spending the money on a motorcycle?! It’s not like she plans to become a professional biker! What sense does that make?!

Oh wait, he likes to tinker with cars and could easily turn it into a job, since he’s a POOR PERSON. Obviously he would TOTALLY understand eschewing college for a motorcycle! DUH!

I contemplated my luck. Only a teenage boy would agree to this: deceiving both our parents while repairing dangerous vehicles using money meant for my college education. He didn’t see anything wrong with that picture. Jacob was a gift from the gods.

Only a teenage boy would be stupid, gullible and horny enough to go along with a teenage girl’s idiot plans for self-mutilation and/or death. What luck!

In addition to the IDIOCY of this chapter, it has a very classist message. Bella is all “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy!” when she’s around the rich, snotty Cullens, but she just ASSUMES that a poor kid knows how to fix her motorcycles, and they’re all too happy to do her bidding. And there’s even some implicit racism too, since she looks up to the super-white Cullens and DOWN on the Indians!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s