0.2 - Matt and Elena - Tenth Date On Wickery Pond.pdf - The Vampire Diaries - swetha

From the Vampire Diaries:

An Untold Tale

On Wickery Pond

“You know what this is?” Elena had greeted Matt, for once without

the cheerleading squad of girlfriends on the second story. They were

planning to see a horror movie at Fellʼs Churchʼs one working theater and

then have dinner at a small Italian restaurant in Ridgemont.

“What?” Matt had asked, feeling stupid staring as he was at Elenaʼs

golden beauty as she came down the stairs, this time dressed in an slim

pearl-white sheath, with an oversized black velvet belt showing just how

small her waist was, and a black velvet ribbon around her slender throat.

“Uh . . .” Matt tried to remember if there was some holiday coming

up, or some dance heʼd forgotten to ask her to.

“Itʼs our anniversary, silly! Itʼs our two-month, official tenth date

anniversary.”

“ Almost two months,” Matt had said as Elena had put on an ivory

coat with faux fur—it looked real, but sheʼd confided to Matt that it

wasnʼt—at the cuffs and collar. He knew how long it had been to the day

From the Vampire Diaries:

On Wickery Pon

and minute, because he had been thinking about Elena nonstop ever

since then. He thought about her even when he was supposed to be

thinking about something else. His football coach was disgusted with him,

but all the guys on the team were green with envy. Elena and Matt were

formally together.

“Our tenth—oh, no!” Matt slapped his forehead. “I swear, Elena, I

swear, I bought this little pearl ring for you—we can go to my house and—

whoa—!”

“Shhh.” Elena silenced him most expediently—by kissing him. It

was a beautiful soft, chaste kiss, which branded Mattʼs lips like fire. Elena

was so light and delicate—almost fragile-feeling in his arms. But warm,

definitely warm. “Donʼt say a word about rings, especially where Aunt

Judith can hear you,” she whispered into Mattʼs ear, which gave rise to

such pleasant sensations that Matt could hardly follow what she was

saying. But heʼd managed to nod, and to say hello to Aunt Judith as she

came from the kitchen, and then sweep his treasure out into the cold late-

fall evening.

“And I donʼt care about rings, silly,” Elena had said when they had

driven a few blocks away from her house and sheʼd given him a dizzying

kiss or two. “I just want you to know that this is an important day.”

She said it so adorably earnestly, looking at him with those lapis

lazuli eyes under their ridiculously thick lashes, that Matt wished he could

haul her over the central console of the car and kiss her hard. But if he

had learned one thing about Elena Gilbert, it was that kisses werenʼt

things to be casually snatched up, not even if they were a couple. Elena

could turn into an Ice Princess in an instant if a kiss wasnʼt her idea. Matt

thought that she might have some cat in her heritage, somewhere way

back.

“Did you bring Uncle Joe?” Elena asked, solemnly, as she always

did when they went somewhere, even to Warm Springs with a picnic lunch.

“Of course,” Matt said, as he always did, and at a stoplight he

showed her his wallet with the precious hundred dollar bill in it, and Elena

said “Hello, Uncle Joe,” as seriously as if she saw his face instead of

Benjamin Franklinʼs there. She also opened her tiny black velvet purse

and showed him what she always carried since their first date: her auntʼs

Visa card.

This time, as on the last eight formal dates theyʼd been

on,

there was no need to resort to either extremity, but as always, Matt had

the feeling that Uncle Joe was somehow with him, sometimes criticizing,

sometimes cheering for him. Since good old Uncle Joe hadnʼt been able

to hang on to even one of his three wives, Matt had decided that this was

a bad fantasy and tried very hard not to listen to Uncle Joeʼs whiskey-and-

tobacco-hoarse voice.

The real-life horror of that date

began as Matt was driving Elena back home, hands carefully positioned

on the steering wheel at the ten oʼclock and two oʼclock positions. He

couldnʼt help but feel dizzy inside every time Elena touched his arm.

Outside, it was freezing, but the Garbage Heap was flooding them with hot

air from below, so Elenaʼs pretty toes couldnʼt be too cold.

They were chatting aimlessly. Ever since their first date Matt had

found Elena amazingly easy to talk to. They talked about things

happening in the world, in Fellʼs Church, and as they grew steadily more

fond of each other, about things closer to their hearts. Like about their

childhoods and how they had really known each other for years, although

they had never known each other. Elena admitted that she had tried

cigarettes years ago, but to Mattʼs relief added that the first one had made

her so dizzy that sheʼd fallen down and so nauseated that sheʼd almost

thrown up. And, to Mattʼs even greater relief, the rumors that were flying

all around school that Elena Gilbert had tried everything , everything legal

or illegal in this part of the world, looking for kicks, were completely

unfounded. She hated the taste of alcohol, so at social drinking affairs she

could be usually seen drinking a rum and coke—sans rum. She would

never go near drugs, she said, because of a cousin of hers that had died

when she was only fourteen.

“I cried so hard at the funeral service that they had to take me

outside the church,” she said. “Breanna had so much to live for. Why did

she even start drugs in the first place?”

“I donʼt know,” Matt said, feeling grim. “To fit in, maybe. Thereʼs a

fair number of jocks that arenʼt clean, either.” He used the derogatory

term lightly—as a jock himself. “They drink vodka from thermoses in the

locker room. Itʼs a wonder we donʼt lose half our games— hey!” He

interrupted himself. “Did you see that? Thereʼs some people out on

Wickery Pond.”

“ On it? Skating? This early?” Elena turned almost completely

around to see the pond, which might better have been named Wickery

Puddle, because it was such a small pool off Drowning Creek and froze

over so early and easily. But the water was deeper than most people

thought. Matt could remember being young and stupid and sliding and

skating on the pond, too, a month ahead of the real skating season. Matt

also remembered his motherʼs story of a girl who had died there before he

was born. The barely-there ice had cracked under her gliding skates, and

had taken three of her friends in the water, too. The rescuers had only

managed to get the three friends out. There was even a ghost story about

how the girl lived under the pond, seizing the feet of anyone who broke ice

over even the shallowest water, and pulling them down, down, down . . .

“Matt, turn the car around.” Suddenly Elena sounded neither like a

sweet Southern angel or an indifferent Ice Princess. This was the Elena

who always ended up chairing the Robert E. Lee High events committees.

It was the voice of authority, and as usua, Matt found his muscles reacting

before he had quite grasped what he was doing.

“Youʼre—youʼre not going to try to talk to them?” he asked, feeling

spaghetti turn to lead in his stomach. “Theyʼre just bratty elementary

school kids. Theyʼll laugh—”

“Not at me,” Elena said quietly. She didnʼt sound embarrassed—

and she didnʼt sound coy. She was just making a statement.

And Matt suddenly sucked in a deep breath as he realized that it

was true. Heʼd heard girls scream at Elena, with tears and mascara and

0.2 - Matt and Elena - Tenth Date On Wickery Pond.pdf

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