My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered theroads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a path ofdestruction through Main Street. 　　When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so littletrouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of thetruck — carefully holding the side for support — to examine my tires. 　　There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. 　　Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. 　　My throat suddenly felt tight. I wasn't used to being taken care of, andCharlie's unspoken concern caught me by surprise. 　　I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight backthe sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heardan odd sound. 　　It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. Ilooked up, startled. 　　I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion,the way it does in the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed tomake my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detailseveral things at once. 　　Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me inhorror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the samemask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue vanthat was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes,spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hitthe back corner of my truck, and I was standing between them. I didn'teven have time to close my eyes. 　　Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around thetruck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I wasexpecting. My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt somethingsolid and cold pinning me to the ground. I was lying on the pavementbehind the tan car I'd parked next to. But I didn't have a chance tonotice anything else, because the van was still coming. It had curledgratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding,was about to collide with me again. 　　A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice wasimpossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out protectivelyin front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, thelarge hands fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of thevan's body. 　　Then his hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly grippingunder the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging mylegs around like a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. Agroaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping,onto the asphalt — exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been.