I decided to go back to my roots and do it properly. This started out as a rewrite of my first twific ever, The Music Box, but it just became this whole other thing when I started actually writing it. I'm going to go along with it. My apologies to anyone who lives in La Push, I had to create a beach. I've had a look on Google and it looks nothing like how I'm describing it either, seeing as I've made the distance between La Push and Forks way shorter than it seems to actually be. I'm from NZ. Forgive me my trespasses.
Also, I'll be taking my time updating, so don't get upset if time rolls by before the next chapter is edited and everything.
Also also, this is an extremely long chapter.
*.*.*
I opened my eyes.
In itself, that was an unremarkable act. It was what I opened my eyes to that made me feel weird.
A low ceiling and a boxy room closed in on me, whilst blankets tangled around my legs, ensnaring me completely. I struggled for a moment before pushing them off, heavy quilts that weighed more than I did and were reluctant to relinquish their hold. And as my body cooled, I turned my head and stared out the window at the pale sky. It was too early to tell if it was going to be grey or blue. The morning painted it quicksilver bright and hopeful.
I rolled over and grabbed a pen and my notebook, scribbling down fragments of thought.
Opening my eyes again much later, the sky was a timid blue and I was heavy with rest. I had slept too long these past days, catching up on what the international timeline had deprived me of. I pulled my leaden body out of bed and staggered out into the hallway, shuffling along to the kitchen. Jacob was in there.
We had a routine, my cousin and I.
Him - Good morning.
Me - Mmm.
Him - Coffee's done.
Me - Cool. Thanks.
This was the first time I'd been up early enough that the good morning wasn't sarcastic.
I contemplated him over a mug of black, bitter coffee. His skin was a beautiful even russet, spreading to cover the muscles on his enormous frame. He was taller than Uncle Billy had ever been. Not that I'd seen that, but Dad had shown me photos of when Billy could walk. Jacob's hair was dark and shaggy. Too shaggy for conformity, but it suited him. Something about him was wild, and cropped hair would have brutally detracted from that essence. His eyes were as black as our last name, and he was looking right at me with one eyebrow raised.
I looked away, embarrassed. He probably thought I was really creepy now. Creepy girl, stalking her cousin.
"Sorry."
"I get it," he said. "You notice stuff."
I glanced back at him and saw that he did get it, understanding shading his eyes a warmer dark brown.
"Yeah," I said.
"Are you into art? Do you sketch?"
I looked at him questioningly.
"The stuff you see," he clarified. "You like detail, right?"
"Yeah," I repeated. "But I can't draw to save myself. I write."
He grunted and returned to staring at the sideboard. I didn't blame him for being spacey. It was only eight, and most people would still be asleep by now. I itched to get out and do something. Anything.
I also really missed my apple and blackcurrant tea, which had stayed in New Zealand.
It wasn't too different here. No pohutukawa or manuka, but an abundance of green life. At least I wasn't in a city.
I got up and slipped out the front door to sit on the narrow porch, one leg dangling off the ramp.
Beauty. It was everywhere, and it would be here. I just had to find it, and capture it, and make this place feel as though it was mine. Maybe I would go for a walk today, through the dark green leaves towards the beach.
The door creaked open again, and Uncle Billy wheeled himself out to park up beside me. We contrasted - I was more brown than russet, and he was more put together at this time of the morning than I would ever want to be. I looked down at my rumpled pyjamas and sighed.
"Gonna be a good one," he said after a few minutes.
He was tobacco and Old Spice, a carved face of experience that told me I would never know better than he did. A flannel shirt tucked over a slight paunch into jeans. The ankles poking out, thin slices of skin between denim and socks yet to be shod, were skinny from disuse. Billy had been in his chair for a long time.
I looked at him enquiringly, and he was gazing at the sky. I followed his look and hummed in agreement.
"Then again," he said, his voice a low rumble, "Appearances can be decieving."
"Mmm," I said again. "Hey, Uncle Billy?"
He switched those black Billy Black eyes to meet mine.
"Thanks," I mumbled. "For... for helping Dad."
"He's my brother," Billy said, not breaking the stare that was becoming a little too intense for a casual conversation. "Even if he forgot that until now."
I shrugged, looking down. "He must have a crap memory," I said. After all, why else would he keep forgetting he was my dad?
"He always was a fool," Billy told me, his unmet gaze weighing heavy on my head. "He hasn't changed since he left, and that was... well, it must have been twenty years ago now."
My coffee was suddenly too bitter. I stood with a twitch of my lips, attempting a polite smile to excuse myself. Billy turned his face to the woods. I headed indoors and dumped the rest of my coffee in the sink. Jacob was gone and I could hear the shower running. Removing the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, I began to fill it with hot water.
Jacob returned, topless with his shaggy hair subdued into a damp mass, to find me elbow-deep in suds. The majority of the dishes were already stacked nicely waiting to be dried on the other side of the sink.
"Oh, um," he said, surprised, "That's my job."
I shrugged again. "It needed doing, and you were busy."
"You shouldn't be doing anything," he said, hovering behind me, probably uncertain of whether he could move me without making it awkward. "Just go unpack or something. Chill."
My mouth curled, and I gave the last dish a final scrub before setting it down. "I'm not a delicate little flower. And anyway, I'm almost done."
He grabbed the tea towel before I could reach it, smiling victoriously as he began to dry the dishes. "It's okay, Mu. Seriously, you don't have to do anything."
I grabbed another tea towel from the drawer. He tensed, waiting for me to fight him, but I merely dried my hands and dropped it delicately on the bench.
"Is that okay?" I said pointedly.
He grinned. "Sure."
"So," I said, settling for wiping down the bench where the dirty dishes had sat. "What do people do around here? Is the beach any good to swim at?"
"If you don't mind freezing your butt off," he told me. "Uh, we do pretty much anything around here. There's some trails in the woods. You could go hiking, but I suggest you wait until you have someone who knows their way around before you go. We get bears and wolves out here."
My eyes widened. "God. Seriously?"
"The wolves won't hurt you," he assured me. "The bears, on the other hand... Well, just don't go into the woods alone. Try picking a hobby."
I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to tell if he was lying or not. "So, stamp collecting is my best bet?"
"Well," he said, pretending to think, "I could take you cliffdiving sometime."
"That sounds great," I said. "Except for the cliff part."
He glanced at me, amused. "Scared of heights?"
"Sane," I corrected.
"We could go on the bikes," he offered.
"Bikes?" A ludicrous picture of Jacob grappling with a slim-framed bicycle in a dorky helmet and cycling gear sprang to mind. I tried not to laugh.
"Motorbikes," he explained. "I used to go riding with a friend of mine, but then she got married and her brother-in-law gave her this sick bike that she uses now. Not that she gets out much."
"Kids?" I guessed.
"Just one," he said, his face lighting up.
"How old?"
He frowned again in concentration, his huge hands devouring the bowl he was towelling dry. "Uh... must be... ten?"
Wow. Assuming Jacob was around 26, which I'm sure he wasn't despite the fact that his size made it entirely feasible, and assuming that his friend was the same age, she would've had to have been fourteen when she had her kid. Not that I didn't know people like that back home, but...
"Teen mum?" I enquired.
"What?" He glanced at me, confused. Then his eyes widened as he caught on to what I was saying, and he grinned. "Naw, they adopted. Bella's a year or so older than me anyway."
"Oh."
"I'm 20," Jacob said. "Just in case you were wondering."
I shrugged. "I'm 16."
"Just a baby, then."
I looked over to see his eyes alight. Teasing. Familiarity already, Cousin Jacob? If you insist. "I'm a girl," I said. "Who runs the world? Girls."
"You just quoted Beyonce."
"You just admitted to knowing Beyonce lyrics."
He shrugged, unashamed. "Nessie likes her."
"Sure," I drawled. "I'm going to go take a shower."
He cocked his head for a moment, looking out the window, then turned back to me. "I'll probably be gone when you get back. Nice finally talking to you, Mu."
I grunted and wandered off down the hallway, grabbing a towel from the cupboard as I went.
*.*.*
Jacob, true to his word, was gone when I got out of the shower. I chucked my damp hair in a bun and pulled on my sweatpants. I had no one to impress here. Then I left a note and started walking along the big, empty road towards Forks. Uncle Billy had said it was about a ten minute drive, which I estimated at a half hour walk, if not more. A good way to stretch my legs after being in a jet-lagged coma for the past few days.
Big sunnies shielded me from the frail sunshine. My notebook was held in one hand, and my pen dangled from the other. I had thirty dollars in my pocket and damn it, I was going to buy myself some tea. All Billy and Jacob had was bitter coffee, which they drank black and strong. Even a decent brew would be acceptable compared to the stuff they drink.
The air around me smelled damp. Warm damp, like earth which has seen rain and is slowly steaming out on the way to become dry. I walked in the middle of the old road, bare feet following the faded white line that seemed to stretch on forever. Breathe, Mu. Everywhere has a road, everywhere has a sky, and everywhere will feel like somewhere soon enough if you just keep breathing.
By the time I got to Forks, I was tired. I don't want to turn around and walk all the way back but being the dumbass I am, I didn't bring any means to contact someone to pick me up. Besides, who would come get me? It's not like Billy can up and drive over.
I trudged into the supermarket with my notebook and started ambling up and down the aisles. I grabbed makeup wipes and lip balm. I grabbed tea. I grabbed gum. I headed to the counter and produce the rumpled twenty. Accepted the unfamiliar coins and my purchases in return. Turned and walked out with a warm feeling in my heart, knowing that I had just secured tea's place at my side for however long it took me to get through the packet.
The gas station was down the street, and I stopped to buy a chocolate bar. The boy behind the counter has blonde hair and watched me as I picked between a Hershy bar and a Kitkat. I chose the Kitkat and presented it to him, not meeting his eyes, not in the mood for small talk in this small town.
"Hey," he said as he scanned the barcode. "I'm Sid."
"Hi."
"And you are...?"
I handed over a five. "A paying customer."
He hovered, grinning. "By the name of...?"
"Mu." Can I have my chocolate bar now, over-friendly cashier?
"Moo? Like a cow?"
I sighed and grabbed the proffered change and chocolate. "Sure. Like a cow." I turned to leave.
"Wait!" he called. I looked back to see him digging for something behind the counter. "Um, I guess you're new, but I'm having..." he grabbed a sheet of paper and held it up triumphantly. "Well, my friend Mac is having a party next weekend."
No thank you, cashier. I plucked the sheet from his hand and offered him a polite smile, figuring he'll let it go if he thinks I'm coming.
He doesn't.
"So, Moo," he said. "Can I get your number?"
I shook my head. "I don't have a cellphone."
"Home number?"
Shrug. "I don't know it. Sorry."
The smile was wilting as he realised that I was brushing him off, although everything I said was absolutely true.
"Oh," he said. "Well, I'll see you at the party then."
"Mm," I said, offering another half-smile before I walked out.
By the time I was back to the outskirts of the reservation, the sun was just past high and the road was too hot for me to walk on. I resorted to the scrubby sides, praying that I didn't step on prickles. Birds and cicadas made the woods seem so innocently alive out here in the sunshine, but I could see the gloom lingering behind the first few rows of pines. No sir-ee, Cousin Jacob, I will not be going into the woods alone.
I flipped open my notebook and jotted a few lines down absently as I walked at a snail's crawl. Beauty. I had to find the beauty.
Breathe, Mu.
*.*.*
The next day dawned pale cerulean again.
"Uncle Billy," I said.
He looked up at me with those black Black eyes. Jacob's eyes. Dad's eyes. Not mine. "Huh?"
I took a sip of my carefully honey-sweetened tea. "When do I go to school?"
"School?" he scratched his head, thinking. "Well, there's the issue of where you're going to go. Your dad made me promise that you could choose between here and Forks High."
"What's here?"
"Two classrooms and a field."
"Really? For a highschool?"
He shrugged. "Folks 'round here don't place a value on that kind of education."
My lips tilted up. "Forks it is then."
He didn't look bothered by my choice, just nodded and sighed. "The pale face school."
"I'm only half Quileute."
Billy grunted. "The good half."
I smiled a little more. "I'm all good, Uncle Billy."
"We'll see," he said. Jacob came in with twigs in his hair and grass stains all over him. I raised my eyebrows. Billy seemed, as always , unperturbed.
"Morning," Jacob mumbled. He looked tired.
"Rough night?" I said dryly. Cousin Jacob, off for a romp in the woods? Well, I never.
He glanced down at himself, then sighed. "It's not what you think."
"I didn't say anything," I pointed out, rising from my chair and draining the last of my drink. I rinsed the cup and shifted the dirty dishes that had been waiting for Jacob out of the sink so I could fill it with hot water.
"Mu..." Jacob sighed, moving towards the sink. "That's my chore."
I shrugged and leaned against the counter as I waited for it to fill.
"Just leave it," he told me. "I'll do it."
I snorted.
"Mu."
"Jacob."
We looked at each other, and then he shook his head bemusedly.
"Whatever," he said. "If you want the dishes, you can have them."
"No," Billy said. "That's your job, Jacob."
Oh, Lord. "I don't mind."
"It's Jacob's job," Billy repeated, fixing me with his stare again. "He's living here rent free. The least he can do is the dishes."
"I'm living here rent free."
"Your dad pays me a hundred bucks expsenses every few weeks."
I pursed my lips. "I can do it. It doesn't matter."
"Just leave it," Jacob mumbled, looking pleadingly at me. I looked from him to Billy's stony glare and held my hands up in surrender, turning the tap off and walking away.
Jacob poked his head into my room about half an hour later. "Can I come in?"
I sat up from where I was lying on my bed, drawing my knees up, and looked at him. He took that as a yes and edged his large frame into the room, sitting on the opposite end of the bed.
"Don't try and do my chores again," he said quietly. "Dad doesn't like it."
I frowned. "Why? It's just the dishes."
Jacob shrugged uselessly. "I... hang out with some people he doesn't approve of. I guess this is his way of saying he hasn't forgiven me."
Despite myself, my lips twitched upwards. "Pale-faces?"
He returned my smile. "Really pale."
"Why doesn't he approve?"
The smile fell into a frown. "It's an old prejudice thing. I never used to like them either."
"What happened?"
"Bella married one of them."
Ah. That explains things then. "I see," I said. "Hey, Jacob?"
"Yeah?"
"You should stand up to Billy."
He shrugged again. "It's his house."
Correct. "Well, it's your friend."
Jacob yawned. "Well, I doubt he'd see her as my friend since she married into their lot."
"Are they dangerous?"
He smiled sleepily as he pushed himself up to go. "You have no idea. Hey, stick around today, I'll take you out to meet some locals later."
I spent the rest of the day listening to my newly-acquired ipod and re-sorting my drawers until Jacob woke up and told me it was time to go. His dark eyes were bright again, and he was in a good mood.
"You'll like them," he promised. "Well. Maybe not Leah, she's kind of a bitch to most people. But most of them are cool."
Cool.
We took Jacob's ancient truck to the beach and started walking from there.
"Where are we going?"
"Around the rocks."
"Why?"
"That's where we hang out." He moved with a spring in his step, much happier than the boy who'd slumped into the kitchen this morning. But he was far too big to be a boy - Jacob was a man, even though it was kind of weird to think of him as a grown up.
Waves crashed over the rocks as we picked our way over. I looked at the water longingly. Jacob said it would be freezing. I believed him, and I really, really disliked the fact that I was missing out on summer entirely by moving here.
I voiced this to Jacob.
"That sucks," he said sympathetically. "It's pretty much about to get freezing here."
"I know," I said glumly. "Does it snow here?"
"If it gets cold enough, yeah."
I smiled. "Well, that's a positive then. I've never seen snow."
"Kid."
"Loser."
Playful banter. It was new. It was nice.
Around the rocks ended up being another little beach, pebbled and half the length of the one we just left behind. I would never have thought it was here. Driftwood was stacked high above the tideline in an oddly tidy pile.
There was a crowd of around ten people here, dressed in ratty jeans and hoodies. I felt too new - new jeans, new hoodie, new girl - when the eyes of a few curious bystanders rested on me. Jacob wrapped his arm around my shoulders, an oddly protective gesture, and led me forward.
"Nervous?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Loser."
He laughed. "You used that one already."
"It still applies."
And then we were there.
"Jake," a lean, feral-looking girl greeted him.
He nodded at her. "Leah."
"Cousin?"
"Yep."
She glanced at me and dismissed me in the same three seconds, twisting her would-be-pretty mouth into a scowl as she looked at Jacob. "You and my brother need to talk later. He screwed up again."
Jacob sighed and gave me an apologetic look, lifting his arm from my shoulders. I took it for what it was and drifted away so he could talk to Leah.
Everyone else seemed to be sitting or standing around with either beer or what appeared to be lemonade in their hands. There was an overwhelming lack of oestrogen here. Leah and one other equally wild-looking girl were the only others. I stood awkwardly, hands itching for a cellphone or something that I could pretend to be absorbed in.
"Hey." A hand grazed my arm, a clammy bottle was pushed into my hand, and I turned to see a tall boy behind me. He was skinnier than Jacob, but I was pretty sure anyone would look skinny next to Jacob.
He could have been poetry. Dark lashes, dark eyes, a hint of darkness in his easy smile. But then the smile was gone, and his eyes widened behind those long, black lashes. His irises weren't black like Jacob's - they were the colour of rum, a warm, rich, dark brown.
"Hey," he repeated, his smile returning.
I looked down at what he'd given me. Beer. "Um. Do you have anything other than beer? I don't really like it."
"Sure." He pulled the bottle out of my hands and was pressing a lemonade can to me before I could so much as look around. "I'm Seth, by the way."
You're art, that's what you are. I smiled at Seth. "Mu."
His grin faltered. "What?"
Oh, now he thought I was joking. I sighed. "My name's Mu."
"Mu," he repeated, as though it were exotic. I suppose it would be to people in Washington. "What does it mean?"
"My eyes are green," I said. "So my nickname's Mu. Like pounamu."
"Pounamu?"
"Greenstone." I twisted the tab and took a sip. "It's kind of dumb because no one knows what it means over here."
"I do, now," he pointed out.
Smartass. I took another moment to study his face. Beautiful cheekbones, a scar on one, faded almost to oblivion. And his eyes, the white around the rum, were bloodshot.
"Are you high?" I asked, figuring that if he was, he wouldn't get offended.
His eyes widened again and he shook his head. "Not at the moment."
"But you're a stoner?" I pressed, fairly certain I was right.
He opened his mouth, then shut it again, looking troubled. The beer bottle was shaking in his grip. "I've smoked weed before, yes."
A heavy arm draped around my shoulders again. Jacob.
"Seth," he greeted. "Put the alcohol down."
Seth's eyes flashed angrily. "It's one beer, Jake, I'm allowed one goddamn beer."
"Put it down," Jacob said, his voice oddly inflicted.
Seth looked even angrier, but he threw the bottle down. The sharp crash of glass on pebbles lulled the conversation of the small gathering momentarily.
"Breaking your stupid vow again?" he hissed at my cousin.
"I think you should leave," Jacob said quietly. "Before you do something stupid in front of Mu."
"Too late," I mumbled to myself.
Seth's head turned like he'd heard me, and he looked anguished for a moment. Then he looked beseechingly at Jacob. "Please, man, I'll behave."
Jacob's tight grip on me loosened a little, and he tilted his head to survey Seth. Then he shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. Mu shouldn't have to deal with your shit on her first night out of the house."
Seth's rum-coloured eyes darkened, his mouth mashing into a flat line of ire. He locked eyes with Jacob for a long moment.
Jacob's chest rumbled in what could have been a growl. "Five minutes," he warned. "That's all." And then, with one final long look at Seth, he turned and left. I watched him go.
"Mu," Seth said. He may have looked like poetry, but I sounded like poetry on his tongue.
I met his eyes again. "Um."
A smile tugged at his mouth again. "Hi."
"Hi." I eyed him suspiciously. "So, you're really not high right now?"
He shook his head. "I was earlier today, but... I haven't done anything since then."
"Right." I took a sip of my drink in place of conversation. He seemed quite content to stand there, drinking me in. "So," I said. "Do you... collect stamps?"
"Do you?"
"No."
"Good," he said. "I was thinking I'd have to start collecting stamps so we had something in common."
"We're people," I reminded him. "We have the world in common."
"Not the same world, though." He produced another bottle of beer bottle from somewhere and proceeded to twist the top off and chug half.
"Never the same," I agreed. "Do you have a pen, by chance?"
He felt in the pockets of his jeans and dug out a very much bent pen, shrugging over its sorry state. "Didn't even know I had it."
"Thanks." I scribbled something down on the inside of my arm, frowning at the fading daylight as it hindered me.
"What are you writing?" He leaned closer and angled his head to read my scrawl.
I yanked my sleeve back up and handed him his pen with a smile. "I would tell you, but... I don't really tell anyone."
"So you just let them sit there and wonder what you're doing?"
"Pretty much."
He snorted. "That's pretty fucking selfish."
I frowned. "My words, my arm, my decision. Don't swear."
He watched me for a moment. "You don't like me, do you?"
It was getting harder to see the oddly clear brown of his eyes in the fading light. I shrugged. "I don't know you."
"Would you like to?" He drifted closer again. Flirting. Being stupid.
"No."
He stepped back immediately, seeming nonplussed. "Good choice."
I raised an eyebrow. "What, are you the big bad wolf?"
His smile turned somewhat mocking. "No. But we run in the same pack."
I glanced away and saw that someone had started a fire with the driftwood. I watched the flames climb over the salty pile, oddly tinged and mesmerizing. Seth's hand was on the small of my back, pushing me towards the warmth. He withdrew his touch as soon as I started moving on my own. I glanced at him curiously.
"Not the big bad wolf, remember?" he told me, tossing his now-empty bottle over the fire into the bushes and staring at the flames. "Jacob's coming this way as soon as Leah's done bitching about me, so I probably won't see you around for a while."
"Okay," I said. The fire crackled and spat a chunk onto the pebbles. It glowed and died, a miniature star in fast forward.
"Okay," he repeated quietly, bitterly, then cleared his throat and continued. "It's been nice while it lasted."
I snorted. "Breaking up with me already, Seth?"
His head snapped around to stare at me, eyes incredibly intent on my own. "Never."
I opened and shut my mouth a few times before settling for looking at the fire.
True to Seth's word, Jacob was there within a minute. He came and stood beside me. Seth tensed, then turned abruptly and walked off.
"Bye," I muttered at his retreating back.
"Now comes the fun part," Jacob told me. "We're going to get you drunk."
I snorted. "Why would I agree to that?"
He put an arm around me again and turned me around, walking towards a strangely flat-topped rock with bottles set up on it. "You don't have to. You're on our turf now. This is your initiation."
"I don't drink well," I hedged.
Jacob squeezed my shoulders tighter briefly. "Then you'll love this."
And in the dark of the night, we stole back into the little house that Billy built, me giggling and trying to clutch Jacob in an attempt to stay upright. My head was pleasantly blurred, and I could no longer feel any of the cold that had stolen in with the sunset. Jacob laughed at my gibberish and took off my shoes for me, tucking me into bed fully clothed.
"Goodnight Mu," he said.
"Goodnight Jacob!" I whispered loudly. "Love you!"
He just laughed again, and then it was dark and I was confused as to what had happened for a while before I realised he had turned off the light.
Well.
I snuggled down in my covers, sleep claiming me as I shut my eyes.
*.*.*
Boring.
I surveyed the buildings in front of me, labelled Fork's High by a large and peeling sign. Jacob's car smelled like leather and oil, and some sort of musk. He waited patiently as I took it in.
"Not too late to change your mind," he said. "Ditch the pale faces."
"I could say the same to you," I sniped.
He smiled mysteriously. "To be honest, it was too late for me a long time ago. You, on the other hand, still have a chance."
"Then I'll give them my chance." I opened the door which, a credit to Jacob's meticulous care, did not creak despite the ancient mechanism. "Thanks for the ride."
"No problem." He reached over the back and picked up my bag, holding it out to me. "Have fun with the kids."
"I'll try," I promised, offering him a wry smile before turning my back on him and ambling towards the main office. He tooted the horn at me, and I waved in reply before he drove off.
The interior of the building boasted a receptionist with a bad perm and a sickly smile.
Her: Hello, dear.
Me: Um. Hi.
Her: Can I help you?
Me: Um. Yeah. I'm starting school here.
Her: Did your parents call ahead?
Me: Um. My uncle. Billy Black.
Her: Oh! You're the girl from the reservation. Well.
Me: Yeah. Um. Do I just go ahead and start, or...?
Her: I'll just print out your schedule, and then you can make your way to your first class.
Me: Um. Thanks.
And so, armed with my fragile and fluttering scrap of a schedule, I tried to find my English class. I was almost there when a bell rang and students swarmed from various classrooms, shouting and laughing. I blinked at them, then checked first my shedule, then my watch. English hadn't even started yet. That must have been homeroom or something.
"Moo!"
I looked up and saw cashier boy standing before me, grinning.
"Um. Hi?" I said uncertainly. I hadn't the foggiest what his name was, but he was better looking without a uniform.
"I served you, that time?" He was still smiling, sure I would remember. "Sid?"
"Oh! Hi, Sid." I looked at my schedule, then thrust it towards him. "Can you... I have no idea where my English class is."
He glanced at the paper. "Oh, you have Mr Reames. He's in E2."
I looked at him blankly. "Where's E2?"
"Uh..." he looked around. The students had definitely thinned to the last stragglers. "Here, I'll show you. Come on." He turned and started walking. I hastened to follow.
"Thanks," I said sheepishly.
"It's okay," he said cheerfully. "So, is your nickname really Moo?"
"M-U," I spelled. "As in pounamu. Greenstone."
"Greenstone?"
"Um..." I tried to think what else it was called. "Jade?"
"Oh!" He flashed another smile at me. "Sorry for calling you a cow."
I shrugged. "You didn't know. It's a Maori word."
"Maori?"
Wow. I glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. "What do they teach you guys here?"
Sid laughed. "Was that a really dumb question?"
"To me, yes. To the average American, probably not."
"Are you calling the average American really dumb?"
I shook my head. "Just a little ignorant. Do you even know where New Zealand is?"
He blinked at me. "Isn't it that little one off the coast of Australia?"
Not knowing quite how to react, I settled for sidelong glance. "Look at a map. I'm from there."
"To be honest, I thought you were British."
Oh, dear Lord. I didn't know whether to laugh or be annoyed, so I laughed, which made Sid look annoyed.
"I didn't know," he muttered. "Here, your class is in this building. Just look for the number on the door."
"Thanks, Sid," I said, offering him a smile. He gave a reluctant one to me in return.
"No problem," he replied. "I'll see you later."
"See you," I promised, hastening up the steps. I realised that Sid was probably going to be late to his own class now because of me, which made me feel a little guilty, but at least I didn't make a dick of myself on the first day by peeking into the wrong classroom.
Through the window, I could see that class had already begun. I knocked tentatively on the door, interrupting whatever the teacher had been saying. He crossed to the door and opened it, standing before me in his full intellectual glory. Seth was poetry, but this guy looked like he inhaled and consumed words to live. He was good looking in a way that suggested he would have been a heartthrob when he was younger, but now his looks sat well with his age. He had a volumous mass of well-groomed grey hair atop a face dominated by strong features which caught the dim light within the room in a manner which would have made a photographer overjoyed. Flinty grey eyes were framed by stylish glasses. He himself was framed by a black suit and crisp white shirt, but no tie. This man knew he was good looking, knew how to take care of himself, and did so with pride.
"Hello," he said, raising silvery eyebrows in inquiry.
"I'm Eleanor Black," I said. "Are you Mr Reames?"
"I am." He stood aside and allowed me in. "I assume you are joining this class? Pick a seat, I won't assign you one unless you obstruct the lesson."
"Um. Thanks." I felt the eyes of curious class-dwellers on me, so I kept my eyes down until I reached a seat. It was right up the front. I didn't particularly care. I had no one to whisper with in the back seats, anyway.
"Now, I'm sure you're all dying to welcome the new girl," Reames said from the front of the room, claiming attention again. "But not in my class, understood? Socialise in your own time. Now, where was I..."
It took until almost the end of the lesson, after Reames had handed out some sort of quiz for us, for someone to lean close and whisper hello. I lifted my eyes momentarily and mouthed a quick greeting back, then returned to my paper.
"I'm Larielle," she murmured. "Call me Larry. You?"
Reames appeared, standing over us and glaring at Larry pointedly.
"Socialise in your own time," he reminded us, eyes resting on me for a moment before he walked away to heckle someone else. The message was clear - don't make life difficult for him, and he won't make it difficult for me.
"Mu," I breathed, pretending to study a question particularly hard, my pen poised above the paper.
We didn't speak for the rest of the lesson, but when I stood to go to my next class, Larry grabbed my schedule and scanned it.
"We have Gym," she announced. And just like that, we were talking on our way to Gym. Larry hated Gym, hated all forms of exercise - "Except ballet," she informed me. "That's a real sport, not just running around in an ugly uniform." My new friend was a ballerina, had been for most of her life. She was also very pretty. Creamy skin, with a full, soft mouth that put Angelina Jolie to shame, and a curly mane of dark red hair that made her features seem all the more delicate. She could have been a porcelain doll.
And me? Oh, well, you know, just the new kid.
Just the new kid?
Yes. From New Zealand. No hobbies or passions to speak of.
Larry smiled at me, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I'm sure there's more to you than that."
Oh, just a dead mother, a depressed father, a cryptic uncle, a protective cousin, and a pretty-eyed boy made of poetry.
I shook my head, smiling back. "I'm pretty average. Just foreign."
"'Just foreign' will get you on the map around here," she told me. "You're a landmark for the next week or so whether you like it or not."
"I figured as much," I said wryly. "So, what do you guys do in Gym?"
She rolled her eyes, back to being disgusted. "Freaking volleyball."
I liked volleyball. I was good at it. I decided not to tell Larry, humming in a neutral way instead before shifting the topic back to her.
Larry lived her life for dance. "I practise every day for two hours after school, and on weekends I go to Seattle for tuition." She was meant to go to a ballet school in New York when she finished Junior High, but her grandmother died and she missed the audition because everyone who woud have flown with her was attending the funeral and there was no way her mother would allow her to navigate New York alone. So instead, she was training for the audition at the end of this year. It was, she informed me, the most important thing she would ever do in her teenage life.
By the time we reached lunch that day, I was feeling as though I had made my first friend. Deep breath. Don't hold it, just exhale and act normal. She likes you so far, Mu.
"Did you bring lunch?" Larry asked.
I nodded. Didn't everyone?
Apparently not.
"I'll buy you something," she promised. "Go grab a table for us, okay?"
You don't have to buy me anything, Larry. I like you already. But she insisted, and I went to a still-empty table to unpack my lunch. I was starving and dying to eat my leftover meat sandwich and my carefully wrapped biscuits.
Sid sat next to me, hip to hip. "Hey, Mu."
"Um. Hi," I replied, staying perfectly still, my hand freezing momentarily in the unwrapping of my sandwich.
"How's your day been so far?"
I watched my rye bread as if it were about to run away. "Not bad. A little weird."
"How so?"
I glanced up to find him gazing at me politely. "Um. It's just different from what I'm used to, I suppose. Like... having a locker. It's weird."
"Why's that weird?"
"I've never had one before," I replied with a shrug. "I'm used to carrying all my books around in my bag."
He had nice hazel eyes. Not green, like mine, or amber, like Seth's, but a nice mixture that reminded me of forests and earth and kauri gum with pretty green things preserved inside. His hair was shaggy and blonde, much shorter than Jacob's yet just as unruly. He looked like he would tan if he was given half the chance, but seeing as this country was headed for winter, I doubted he'd see much sun until spring.
He was also looking at me expectantly, which made me realise I'd been staring.
I returned my gaze to my sandwich, studying it intently. "Beg pardon?"
"I said, wasn't that annoying?" Sid sounded amused, though mercifully he chose not to comment on my perusal.
I shrugged again. "You get used to it."
Larry sat down with a tray on the opposite side of the table. "Sid, I think Llana was saving a seat for you."
"I don't want to sit with Llana," he informed her. "I want to sit with Mu."
She looked uneasy, but she let it slide. She pushed a plate with a slice of what appeared to be apple pie on it towards me. "Here, Mu."
Dessert? Larry was beginning to be more and more appealling as a friend.
"Are you going to Mac's?" Sid asked Larry, who nodded.
"Definitely," she said enthusiastically. "Thank God it's Saturday night, or I'd have to give it a miss." She had ballet on Saturdays. "As it is, I'll probably have to be sober."
"Sucks for you," he said cheerfully. "Hey, you should take Mu with you."
I blinked. What?
He continued. "Since you're already going, I mean."
Larry put down the fork she had been using to pick the onions out of her salad and met his gaze. "Sid, why do I get the feeling you want to take Mu with you?"
What?
I choked a little on my apple pie.
Sid flashed me a grin. "I'd take her if I thought she'd say yes."
Obviously, my flushed and choking face was more attractive than I'd previously thought. I swallowed with difficulty and kept my eyes trained on my food. "Um. No."
"See?" In the corner of my vision, Sid leaned forward conspirationally. "That's why you should take her. Someone's got to show her some fun."
Do I get a say in this?
But Larry was nodding slowly. She turned to me. "My house, six o'clock, Saturday. Bring all your party crap, I hate lending people my clothes."
"I-" I began, but Sid nudged me and cut me off.
"Let it go," he told me. "You'll have fun, don't worry."Someone called his name from across the room, and he waved his hand dismissively at them before turning back to me. "So. You in?"
I looked from him to Larry and back again. "Do I get a choice?"
"Nope!" He stood, another grin fleetingly gracing his mouth. "See you around, Mu."
"And Larry," Larry said pointedly.
"And Larry," he added over his shoulder as he strolled away.
Larry whistled quietly. I glanced at her to see her shaking her head at me.
"First day here," she said, "And you've already attracted the notice of Forks' one and only Sid Crosby. How'd you manage that."
I swallowed my mouthful of sandwich before answering. "He. Um. Served me once. At the gas station. I bought a Kitkat."
"I see." Larry delicately ate a forkful of salad, watching me the entire time.
"What?"
"Well," she began, "The thing is, Llana Stanley is plotting your gruesome murder as we speak. She has dibs on Sid."
I snorted. "Dibs?"
"Sid's not up for grabs." Larry ate another dainty mouthful. Good table manners. I liked that, and I liked her.
"But I don't want to grab him," I said.
She pointed her fork at me. So much for manners. "But he wants to grab you, which is why you need to watch your back."
I quietly ate my sandwich, thinking.
Larry kept talking, sensing that I wouldn't interrupt. "We lowly sophomores are meant to bow down to Her Majesty because she's a Senior and everyone's pretty much shit-scared of her. Which, by the way, so is Sid, so he's kind of stepping down to be nice to you. No offence. But it's true. There's a hierachy. I don't know if anyone's told you, since you're, like, foreign or whatever. You've skipped Freshman year, so that's a bonus, but you've arrived just in time for Sophomore. After that it's Junior, which is old enough to have superiority over the underclassmen but not quite old enough to match the Seniors. The Seniors are the business."
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," I quipped. "I'm sure I'll care more when I'm a Senior looking at annoying Freshmen, but for now..." I shrugged and spread my hands.
"I knew you'd be a rebel," she said, grinning. "Just remember what I said about Queen Bitchy."
"Which one is she?"
Larry glanced around discretely. "Okay, we're going to get up and walk over to some people so I can introduce you. I'll point her out on the way past, but don't make it obvious that you're looking."
I frowned. "She's not the mafia, Larry, I think she can handle a glance in her direction without going insane."
"That's what you think," Larry said ominously. "Now, I'll stand up first, and then you follow me and catch up. She's the one who sits right in the middle of the table next to the window."
We stood. We walked. I looked.
Llana Stanley was bottle blonde with cleavage that only plastic surgery or a serious push up bra could produce. She was fair and unfreckled, and she would have been prettier if she'd worn less makeup. As it was, she looked like a glossed-over Barbie.
Then she turned her head and met my eyes. The look she gave me was one of contempt. She whispered to the girl sitting next to her. I looked away, trying not to blush at having been caught out.
Larry's people were a group of five. Two boys with dark shaggy shoulder length hair and dark eyes, one with glasses, one with a Mountain Dew can in front of him. Wide smiles, mouths almost two wide for their faces, but they could pull it off while they were still boyish. A girl who had a mane of blonde and a curvy yet confident vibe wearing tight skinny jeans and a soft yellow long sleeved v-neck. A girl who was stick-thin and flat. And the fifth member was another boy, floppy mouse-coloured hair and faded late-summer blue eyes.
"Hi," curvy greeted me, smiling. She looked like she's out of a magazine, the all-American sweetheart. I envied her already, because she looked perfectly comfortable in her own skin and I hadn't quite got the hang of being comfortable in mine.
"Um. Hi," I said, sitting awkwardly beside Larry. Larry, Larry - you are already my comfort blanket.
"I'm Breanna," she said, holding out a hand for me to shake.
"That's a Fleetwood Mac song," I noted as I accepted the greeting and shook her hand. Warm. Dry. Confident.
"You know Fleetwood Mac?" asked stick-thin incredulously. "No one knows them!"
"They were pretty famous," I said doubtfully. "Still are."
She leaned forward. "What do you think of the Vampire Weekend cover of Everywhere?"
I shrugged. "Good. Nothing's ever going to have the same impact as the original, but they didn't try to make it their own too much, which worked."
"Mumford and Sons cover of Cousins?"
"Again, the original is always going to be best. Cousins wasn't my favourite Vampire Weekend song anyway."
"What is?"
"Oxford Comma." I took a bite of my pie, which had been neglected since I'd arrived.
"Sally," Larry said, "This is Mu. Mu, this is Sally."
Sally sat back. "Make a reference to a Mustang, and I may have to kill you."
I smiled. "What about Sally's Song?"
"The Nightmare Before Christmas?" Sally raised her eyebrows, impressed. "You get around."
I couldn't resist. "I'm not the one who's been riding all over town."
She looked reluctantly amused, pressing her lips together so that she wouldn't laugh.
"I'll give you that one," she said.
Larry nudged me. "That's Nate..." - glasses - "...Tom..." - Mountain Dew - "...and that's Chris." Chris was late summer sky.
"Guess which one of us is the academic one," Nate challenged. Obviously I'd been correct in my assumptions and they were in fact twins.
I pointed to Tom.
"Excellent choice," he said, then turned to Nate. "You owe me five bucks."
Chris smiled shyly at me in greeting, but his attention was on Sally, who was raving to no one in particular about how Katy Perry's version of Electric Feel was better than the original because it made the song sound more meaningful and thought out.
I made a mental note to look up the cover.
Larry leaned over to Breanna. "Hey, did you see that Sid came and sat with us?"
Breanna nodded, eyes lighting up with curiosity. "What did he want?"
"He wanted Mu."
Breanna glanced at me. "Oh, you poor thing. Llana's going to eat you alive."
"That's what I said!" Larry exclaimed. "She didn't believe me."
I am right here, I thought peevishly.
On cue, Breanna's head swivelled back to me. "Do you like Sid?"
"Um. No."
"You do!" Larry accused gleefully.
"No," I repeated firmly.
"The course of true love never did run smooth," she quipped. "So, when we go to Mac's, are you going to make a move?"
"No," Breanna said sharply, "She's not."
My hero.
She continued. "Because if Sid wants her, he'll make the move."
Scratch that. I eyed Breanna resentfully. "Um. I don't want anyone making moves."
Breanna and Larry exchanged another meaningful look.
I sighed and glanced around the table, looking for a saviour.
Nate grinned at me. "I don't think you get a choice."
"I don't think I do," I agreed glumly. "I don't even know if I can go."
"Strict parents?"
I shook my head. "I live with my uncle. My dad's still in New Zealand."
Nate offered me the packet of chips he was holding. "Dorito?"
I accepted, munching on dehydrated cheese and nacho.
"Do you think your uncle won't like you going out?"
I shrugged. "Um. I've only been here for, like, three weeks."
"To be honest," he said, "It'd probably be easier for you if you didn't go. Then Llana wouldn't have an excuse to get her claws out."
My gaze flickered to Llana's table again before returning to Nate. "Um. Why is everyone scared of her?"
"Because," Tom cut in, apparently having eavesdropped. "She's a bitch. She spread a rumour about Breanna being a lesbian."
"With me," Sally said, wrinkling her nose. "Some people have no imagination. Sure, let's make the weird muso chick a lesbian, that's so original."
I shrugged again. "I'm not trying to impress anyone. The people who matter know who I am, and everyone else can get stuffed." Llana Stanley included.
Nate clapped.
"You're badass," Tom told me, grinning.
"Bad-ass," Nate agreed.
I kind of felt normal.