Chapter 1: Letting Go
Andrew's POV

"Look Andrew, I know this is hard for you and you're nervous but this will be a good thing, I'm sure of it."

I looked up into Sam's sincere eyes. He had become like a father to me. When my dad died in the car crash, he took it upon himself to make sure I was comfortable.

"I know." I shuddered out trying to conceal my tears. "It's just that-" He cut me off with one of his big bear hugs. Just like my father used to give. I can see why Dad decided to leave me in his custody in case anything ever happened to him. He was a gentle giant. Leave it to my over-protective father to put me in the custody of an ogre.

"Don't worry. You'll be making friends left and right." He chuckled. "You never had a problem with that." I suppose he was right. Some people even called me an over-aggressive extrovert. But still. I was moving to a new state; there waiting would be a new school full of new people.

"Ugh," I groaned out loud. Sam's phone rang. "I'm the type of girl who likes to chew my bubble gum."It sang. I laughed as he frantically hit the silence button on the side of the phone.

He chuckled under his breath. "I swear, when I get my hands on them I'm going to…." He cut that statement off and looked up at me again. I could feel the atmosphere transitioning to be more intense as his facial expression changed. "It's only as hard as you make it. You're my best friend's son. He was practically a brother to me." He paused for a moment and blinked a few times. Could he be trying to hold back tears? He made eye contact again. "As far as I'm concerned you're already a member of the family." It was silent for a few seconds as I took in what he said.

"Thanks," I squeaked, trying not to cry. The last thing this moment needed was water works. I was honored that he was willing to take me in, but I couldn't help but worry about the rest of his family. I sure hope they like me. My dad talked about Sam and his wife Emily often, but I didn't really ever hear much about anyone else in the small Indian reservation of La Push, Washington. I was silently wondering to myself what them; my new family-I guess I would have to get used to that- would all be like.

"Well," I snapped out of my daze and refocused on Sam's face again. "We better get going." He said as he started walking toward the car. I followed with my duffle bag in hand. This duffle bag was all I had to remember my past by. With this revelation, I involuntarily grasped the bag harder. I couldn't lose it. I was overwhelmed with fear and sorrow. Sam must have noticed my sudden change in demeanor because he quietly turned to me as we were walking to the car. I offered him the best smile I could muster up. He just nodded and opened the passenger door of his old truck for me. I got in, sat down, and closed the door as he silently walked around the car. It never ceased to amaze me how gracefully agile he was as he walked. On my gravel driveway most people sounded like tap-dancers. Not Sam. He had a perfectly silent, even pace. It was hard to believe that someone so big could be so composed.

My thoughts were interrupted as he started the car. I turned to my house one last time as we pulled out of the driveway. I had spent my whole life, all 17 years of it in that house. Many times in the past it had been the last place I wanted to be. But now I just wanted to run up to my room and stay there forever. I thought back to times when my dad would piss me off. I didn't give him enough credit. My mom died when I was two. I can barely remember him. All I knew was it was hard on my father. He tried to raise me the best he could, but one man can only do so much. All of our arguments seemed so petty right now in this moment. I would trade everything for just one more day with him. I had promised myself I would be ready for today. That I wasn't going to cry. But a small tear slipped from my left eye and trickled down my cheek.

Goodbye, I thought. Why do they call it "GOOD-bye"? This bye was not good. Not even in the slightest. I felt like I was leaving a piece of me behind. Sure, I could talk to my old friends on the phone but it wouldn't be the same. I couldn't shake the feeling that something big was happening…something that would change my life forever. As if my life needed any more "big things".

Again, my thoughts were rudely interrupted by Sam.

"So," he dragged out uncomfortably. Look, I know he was just trying to be supportive and all, but I needed my space right now. Especially after all this had happened. Why couldn't he just let me think in peace?

"Are you excited about your junior year?" Excited?! He wanted to know if I was excited. No! Of course I wasn't excited. If I had my way, I would lie in bed all day and cry. My world was changing so rapidly it seemed. Everyone was pushing me to move on but I couldn't. How could I make them understand that?

"Sure," I lied. "I mean I guess…" He was silent for a few seconds, obviously contemplating what to say next. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Finally he spoke.

"Well...I'm sure you'll do fine." I guess he must have noticed how uncomfortable I was, because he immediately tried to change the subject. "So, you must have to beet off the ladies with a stick." I laughed. He did too. Finally I could breathe again.

"Umm…well…yeah…I guess..." I was trying to be modest. The truth was, he was right. I had been getting a lot of attention in the girl department lately. Not that I was complaining. He laughed again, a little harder, clearly humored at the awkwardness of my response.

"Oh yeah?" He teased. "I bet you're just a 'player', aren't you?" He nudged me with his arm and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me.

"Ok, you know what?" I retorted. "You may be brown but you're not black. So cut that out before you hurt yourself." He broke into hysterical laughter.

"Besides, I'm not really strollin' the market anyway." His laughter died down and turned to genuine interest.

"Really?"

"Yeah actually. I've been going pretty steady with this one girl. We've know each other since, like, first grade-" Sam interrupted.

"Of course! You met in the snack line?!" He stammered out trying to sound serious. But his voice cracked with stifled laughter. "A true love story." He lost it. The laughter boomed, making the truck resonate. I quietly waited for him to chill.

"Are you done?" I asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Maybe..." he cooed with a small smirk on his face.

"Anyway!" I overemphasized playfully insinuating exasperation with my tone. "So yeah. We're pretty in to each other. We talk like every night." A smile spread across my face but then faded with revelation. "…or at least we used too. I haven't really talked to her much since…since well…you know…" I looked over to him hoping to see some kind of understanding in his face. He quickly glanced away from the road to make a brief moment of eye contact, telling me he did in fact understand. It's amazing how sometimes a look can speak louder than words. Especially for someone like me. I've never been the best at putting exactly how I feel into words.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam quietly asked.

"No," I responded after a few seconds. "Not yet," I added, delayed.

"I'm here for you. I just want you to know that," he said in a fatherly tone.

"I know." I sighed. I leaned my head back against the head rest. I hadn't slept well the past few nights. I had always had trouble sleeping. Ever since the crash….no I can't think about that now. I have to be strong.

My eyes were heavy with exhaustion. I slipped uneasily into a nightmare-filled sleep.