I honestly have no fucking clue what I'm doing with my life anymore. I'm still writing fics for this franchise (which I don't even really like, tbh). This story came to me while I was spacing out at work and I got excited and banged out the first chapter. Idk dude. Let me know what you think, I guess and I'm going to sit and reanalyze my priorities.

Jacob

August 12, 2016

"It's not you…"

No. No. No. I chanted in my mind.

"…it's me."

Noooo.

I can't believe that this was honestly fucking happening right now. I looked at Leah, sweet Leah. With her short, silk black hair and her pretty brown eyes. The girl who gave me the best summer of my life - was breaking up with me.

One day before senior year started.

And she was using the cliché It's not you, it's me line. I honestly couldn't believe that this was happening. We were going to be the power couple. The Bey and Jay-Z of Clallam county. I was having prom king and queen dreams, for godssakes. And she ruined them. Poured gasoline on my dreams and lit the match.

It felt like she ripped out my heart with a rusty box cutter and took a goddamn bite out of it.

"I just think, since we're both going to two different schools and then with me going away for college afterwards…" She chattered, flipping her short hair back with one hand.

She's seeing Sam on the side. My mind went there. She's gotta be. Why would she break up with me so suddenly? Anger ignited in me at the thought of Sam with his moody attitude and stiff sense of humor. What's he got that I don't have?

I sighed, squashing the anger, and looked out at the water of the Pacific – the gray sand of First beach, the outcroppings of rocks that broke the surface - letting her finish her little spiel about why we wouldn't work out this upcoming school year on our favorite seat of driftwood. I let my mind wander instead – to mask the hurt and the pain in my chest where my goddamn heart used to be.

This was going to be my year. Not her year. Not Sam's year. Not Quil or Embry's year. My year.

And Edward's year.

I squinted at the thought of my lovable brother – his slightly curly red hair, his freckles, his green eyes filling my mind - and then shoved him out of my head completely. I had no time right now to feel sorry for anyone else but me. Me. Number one. The alpha.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. My year. I was going to be the top-fucking-banana. I was going to have all the fun times. Do all the shenanigans. Get in trouble, maybe? Who knows? Definitely go to parties. Big parties. Get drunk, fuck around, go to dances. I deserved it. I needed the high school experience after freshman year - which was a whole fuckin' disaster - and then sophomore and junior year, where I felt like I was just picking up the pieces of a fallout I didn't even cause.

It was perfect. I could be a normal kid, you know, since my family had some semblance of normalcy now. We ate family dinners that didn't get served on hospital trays and hung out with friends at the beach and watched movies in the movie theater instead on the family waiting room television set and slept in our beds instead of the ones at the Ronald McDonald House. Normal.

So, I deserved – I thought – a normal school year. And Leah was going to be by my side. And now she just had to go fuckin' ruin it. Ow. My heart. I sighed again. Did she even know how much girls want me? Just fuckin' look at me. I'm gorgeous. I could get any girl I want. And I chose her. She should count herself lucky.

Not completely normal. I squinted again. Maybe it was grimace. I don't know. If it was normal, we would've gone to high school on the rez, but the sewage tanks flooded over the summer, so the kids were being split between the school in Beaver and the one in Forks until they fixed their shit. Literally.

My normal school year – down the tubes with a line from a goddamn Nicholas Sparks' novel. Oh, well. Maybe I could set my reputation as a James Dean playboy and chase tail for the school year. Just get my dick wet the whole school year. No attachments. I liked that thought.

And then I could help Edward get laid. Lord knows he needs it.

"Alright," I interrupted her soliloquy of how much I meant her and all of that garbage and stood up. "Well, have fun this next school year."

"Jacob!" Leah called. She was the only one that called me that. Well, besides my mom when I would forget to take the chicken out of the freezer for dinner. Everyone else usually just called me 'Jake.'

But, I just ignored her. I didn't even look back. Bye, bitch. I thought as I climbed the dune and started towards my car in the parking lot – a red 1995 Mustang Cobra that I completely paid for and rebuilt myself. My baby. I named her Leia, after Leia from Star Wars. Because the only other thing that looked as good in metal was Carrie Fisher in Return of the Jedi.

I drove home. It was sunset and Mom would be pissed if I was home late for dinner. Family dinners were her thing now, even though Dad only showed up to 3/7 of them since he worked such long hours at the fire station.

Any sense normalcy. We clung to it like life rafts, because if there was one thing about the Blacks – we were anything but normal.

I pulled into the driveway of our house – a red brick tract home that were economic and ugly all in one square little package – and killed the engine to my car. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to a text from Edward.

Can you bring in my hoodie?

I texted back bitterly – my thumbs double-tapping my phone screen. I was not in the mood today.

Come get it yourself.

I sighed, feeling bad. Dammit Edward.

I turned around and grabbed it off my backseat – a black hoodie of a band I didn't listen to – because if he was already in our room, then he would have to go through this big production of going from the concentrator to the tank all while sighing heavily and making me feel like dog shit for just not bringing it in. Boy knows how to guilt people, that's for sure.

I slammed my car door and grumbled myself into my house. I was right. I could hear the concentrator running as soon as I walked through the door. And I smelled something coming from the kitchen. Meatloaf. My favorite.

"Mom!" I called. "I'm home."

"Okay, hun. How was the beach?" She called back.

"Awful." I muttered and started down the hallway before she could grill me for details that I didn't really feel like sharing.

I could hear music playing from Edward's and I's room. Some sort of indie, electronic, hipster band. Gross. I groaned. Edward hated rap and I hated whatever garbage he decided he was into at the moment. It was a cruel cycle of us arguing and then Mom making me relent because Edward was the Cancer Kid and the Cancer Kid got what he wanted because he almost died like three times or something.

I opened the door to a familiar scene – Edward sitting on his level of our shared bunk bed, his keyboard on its stand in front of him, his cannula in his nose, and his laptop open on his bed.

Edward was my brother, even though we looked nothing alike. He was the first and only drop off in the La Push Safe Haven box at the fire station when he was only maybe a day or two old. A little, dehydrated thing screaming his head off. My father – being the chief – would say when he would retell the story, tears in his eyes. I found him and held him and he calmed right down, like he knew he was already home with me, like he knew he found his daddy.

There was a clicking and a slight whooshing noise, with a background of a motor running – Edward's concentrator that delivered oxygen to his lungs through the cannula in his nose. A blue contraption that made its home under his beside table.

His latest round of cancer gave him some party favors in the form of lung tumors. After rounds and rounds of chemo and radiation and a surgery and a near death experience, he was cancer-free but left with a pair of lungs that failed at the only job they were given, hence the supplemental oxygen. At least he was cancer-free.

"What happened?" He asked. Click, whoosh. He saw my face before I could rearrange into something more neutral. He was an excellent people reader. He was the one that alerted me that something was different with Leah and that I might want to be wary of her.

"She broke up with me." I grumbled and used his level of the bed to hoist myself into my bed above him, throwing him his hoodie in the process. Bunk beds were not conducive to someone who was breaking 6'3, but I made do. I rolled onto my back to stare at the poster of Cara Delavigne I tacked to my ceiling. Now, there's girlfriend material.

He played the first couple of notes of the funeral march on his keyboard in response. "You wanna talk about it?" He asked below me, his voice slightly hoarse from the forced air.

"No," I muttered and then shifted, rethinking that answer. If there was anyone I wanted to talk to – it was Edward. "Yes. I think she's seeing Sam."

I watched his red head pop up at that. Edward was a good-looking guy. Too bad cancer gave him the social skills of a saguaro cactus and enough medical baggage to scare away even the most understanding of girls. He was a ladykiller otherwise with his angular chin and startling green eyes and his ability to have complex conversations about music and art and other shit that girls like. "You think that's why she broke up with you?"

"She said it was because we were going to go to two different schools and she didn't think it would work because we were both going to be so busy."

Edward scowled. Click, whoosh. "That's not an excuse."

"I feel used man." I pulled a pillow out from under me and placed it on my face. "I can't even tell if that's what really happened because she's going to Beaver."

Edward clapped my shoulder and then disappeared back down to his level. "Well, you'll have more time to explore the fifty-one flavors of Forks girls. At least until La Push figures their sewage problem."

I leaned over, feeling the bed creak under me so I could pop my head down. "What about you, Edboy?"

He blushed, his eyes darting to Lenny, his affectionately named cart that he had to pull his tank of oxygen in if he wanted to leave the house. He made it a point to cover the thing in Zumiez and band and Supreme stickers to make it look less old-man-who-smoked-for-fifty-years and more seventeen-year-old-kid. But, it was definitely a rolling form of birth control to anyone whose only exposure to cancer was Grey's Anatomy. "I think I'm subjugated to wingman this year."

"Don't say that." I said. "It's senior year. You gotta find the Sandy to your Danny."

Click, whoosh. "You say that but I'm quite convinced that that actually only happens in movies."

He started a beat on his laptop and played along on his keyboard. I went back to laying on my back and listened to him play. He sounded like he was trying to figure out the next part of his song – playing the first part and then delving into different scales and melodies.

I cursed the ground Leah walked on, while strategizing how I was going to get Edward laid. He's the only senior that was still a virgin, I was pretty sure.

"Boys!" My mother called. "Dinner!"

I hopped out of bed at the same time Edward stood up. He undid his cannula around his nose to switch to the concentrator in the living room, his mouth opening automatically to get more air. He moved slowly without oxygen, his fingers on the wall of the hallway for support. By the time he got to the dining room table, where our mom set the table with his cannula next to his cutlery, his breaths were wheezy and harsh.

I slid into my chair and Edward took the seat across from me. Our table was made for six. But, Rachel and Rebecca, our sisters, hadn't been home in awhile. Rachel was working at some oil field in Alaska as an engineer and Rebecca was married to a Navy colonel in Hawaii. Both were ten years older than Edward and I and I really only saw them nowadays if shit was hitting the fan with Edward's health. And dad was working tonight at the station.

"So," Mom started as soon as she sat down at the head, flipping her long black braid over her shoulder. "Who's ready for the first day of school?"

"I was," I muttered and stabbed at my meatloaf. Damn Leah. Ruined my favorite dinner. Ruined my day. Ruined my life. I hate girls.

My mother's dark brown, almost black eyes snapped to me. "What happened?"

"Leah and Jake broke up." Edward volunteered as he took a bite of food.

I looked at him across the table, frustration twisting inside me. "Bro." I groaned. I did not want to get into this over dinner. Actually, I wanted to keep my mother as far away from my love life as physically possible. And Edward opened his fat mouth and a gigantic can of worms.

"What? I didn't know it was a secret."

I watched my mother inhale a deep breath. "What happen?"

I motioned to Mom and turned back to Edward. "This is why you keep stuff to yourself."

"Jacob," My mother reproached. "I'm allowed to ask about my children's relationships."

"Child's relationships." Edward corrected his arm coming up on the table so he could lean his face on his fist in self-pity.

I watched my mom's eyes widen at Edward. She didn't really care about elbows on the table, so I was momentarily confused as to why she looked so shocked until her mouth opened. "Is that a bruise?" Her hand snatched over to Edward's arm.

I sighed and went back to eating. I basically disappeared when cancer came into the conversation. Which usually bugged the shit out of me, but I was pretty thankful for cancer rearing its assface this time around.

He twisted his arm around to examine the mark, which looked like state of Delaware and then shrugged. "I bumped into Jake's car the other day." He assured.

"Are you sure?" Mom said, looking like she was about to lose it.

"Mom," He groaned. He was so excited to be starting senior year at a regular school after spending his high school experience learning from a curriculum on a laptop while being pumped with chemicals. The boy could be hemorrhaging from his butt and that wouldn't stop him from going to school tomorrow. "I'm fine. Jake just parks too close to Dad's truck and I was trying to maneuver Lenny and ended up hitting my on truck's rearview mirror."

I sucked in a deep breath as there was a momentary silence that was only filled with sounds of Edward's mechanical breathing. I watched my mother's eyes dart from the bruise to Edward's face. I started counting down in my head. 3…2…1…

"Any nosebleeds?"

"No."

"You have been feeling bad?"

"No."

"You haven't been feeling tired?"

"I'm pretty tired of this conversation." Edward snapped back, his eyes rolling so far up he probably could see his own brain.

"Edward Anthony Black." My mother's eyes bugged at him and her copper-colored skin flushed red. "This is important."

"I don't need a third degree every time I bump into something, Mom." He retorted. "Not everything is cancer!"

She and Edward glared at each other for a second. I finished my meatloaf and licked my fork. We are arguing over Edward's health. Must be a typical Sunday evening in the Black household. I thought to myself sardonically. At least they're not asking about Leah anymore.

"He hasn't been having night sweats either." I volunteered, trying to diffuse the whole situation before it turned into a shouting match. "I would know if he was."

My mother inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it. She did that a couple of times while she ran her fingers down her braid and collected herself. "Fine. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions." She pressed her fingers to her temples and picked up her fork. "It's been crazy at work with everyone trying to get their benefits in order before the school year started. I'm a little stressed. Sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Edward mumbled.

"Where were we?" She looked at her plate like it was a problem to solve. "Jacob," Her eyes darted to me.

Oh shit. I thought.

"I almost forgot. Charlie Swan is going to come by later to pick up the Chevy. Can you show him how the clutch sticks?"

"Yeah, sure." I sighed a breath of relief.

"You're getting rid of the Chevy?" Edward asked, his face twisting with disappointment. The elderly truck was supposed to be his car when he got his license. Too bad he was only a month into his learners' permit.

"We sold it to Charlie."

I barked a laugh. "For what? The lint in his pocket?" That old rusty pile wasn't worth the rubber it sat on.

"None of your business, young man." My mother said to me and then turned to Edward. "Charlie needed a car for his daughter and he offered us a fair price. Your father and I thought about it and we think that you could work on your own car like Jake did with Leia."

Edward scowled. "When have I ever shown an interest in cars? I don't even know how to change an oil filter."

"Edward's riding the bus to school." I laughed.

He glared at me from across the table.

"Save your money and buy one, baby. You have your birthday money from Nana. And you can pick shifts up at Applegate's, like Jacob did to buy his car. Tutor? The sky's the limit."

He made a huffy noise and put his face on his fist again. I ran my finger through the red sauce on my plate, watching this exchange like it was the most entertaining thing on the planet. I guess being the Cancer Kid didn't work this time around.

"Baby," My mother started. "We thought we could take the money and go on a family vacation during fall break? Maybe to Los Angeles? See the Hollywood sign? That would be fun, right?"

That shut Edward up, his face flushing red for a second and his mouth mashing into a thin line. "Yeah," He said lowly. Click, whoosh. "Fun."

My mother smile and stood up, kissing me on the temple and then Edward on the top of his head. "You guys got dishes." She said as she started for the living room.

Both Edward and I groaned at the same time.

August 12, 2016

My garage – my dad liked to kid himself and say it was his garage, but it was my garage – was my safe haven. I swear I spent more time out here during sophomore year than I did in my own house.

I looked around at my small collections of different car parts I had sorted, my bench of tools, my pile of tires. I inhaled the light smell of oil and gasoline. It was my space of organized chaos. And I loved it.

I pulled the elderly truck out of its space and moved it to the driveway where my car usually sat.

I'm going to have so much more room now once this hunk of junk was out of here. My mind jumped to a new project to fill it up – maybe a Volkswagon bug? My mom loved those. I could restore one, make it shiny and baby blue with chrome hubcaps and bumpers. A new engine. I made a mental note to pick up a newspaper and check Craigslist for frames.

It wasn't like this truck was bad. It was old - no power steering, no positraction, no fuel injection. It ran okay otherwise. Not my first choice for cars though.

"Jacob!" I heard my mom call from inside the house. "They're here!"

I watched a Forks Police cruiser pull up to the front. Charlie Swan, the chief of the police and my dad's best friend for forever got out of the driver's side. He was a stocky guy with brown eyes and brown hair. "Hi, Jake." He greeted with a wave.

But, then my eyes moved to the passenger seat and I watched a girl my age step out.

They both walked up the driveway. I took the moment check the girl out. She was wearing jeans and a loose t-shirt and had her long dark hair loose around her face. I was eagerly and surprisingly impressed. She got hot.

"How's it going, Charlie?" I asked and shook his hand.

"Good, good." He nodded and then pointed to the girl. "I'm not sure if you remember Bella."

"Hey," She greeted with a small wave, her cheeks lighting with embarrassment as she had to look up at me. She was pale, really pale. It made her gigantic brown eyes stand out on her face.

"No, I don't." I answered honestly and gripped her small hand in a handshake. "But, it's nice to meet you again."

"Yeah, likewise." She smiled. "I'm pretty sure we were in diapers the last time we hung out."

"How's Edward?" Charlie asked.

I sucked in a short breath. "Fine." I nodded. I couldn't tell if everyone asked about Edward out of pity or curiosity. Like did they feel bad or were they just snooping. Both. I resigned.

"I'm going to see how Sarah's doing." Charlie said to Bella. "If you want to check out the truck?

"Yeah, can we?" Her wide brown eyes turned to me.

"You are excited about this truck?" I asked in surprise.

A smile split across her face. "Yes. Char, um, I mean Dad surprised me with it." She started towards the driver's side. "It's probably the best gift ever."

"Well, I don't know about that." I moved around the back towards the passenger's side. I pulled my phone out of my shorts and texted Edward before I hopped in.

Dude, Bella Swan got cute.

He texted back a moment later.

Have fun.

I groaned. He was still salty over the truck. He didn't even want to come out and say hi to Charlie and he liked Charlie. Instead he changed into pajamas and hooked his lungs up to his concentrator in the bedroom and everything else up to Call of Duty on our XBOX – his way of passive-aggressively letting the house know he was in for the night.

Whatever, bro. I thought. I gave you your chance.

I hopped into the truck bed and handed Bella the keys. "When you go into reverse, you gotta make sure the stick is all the way over to the right." I pointed over the barren cab. "The clutch is a little sticky and the engine can rattle when it gets cold. Oh, and there's a Nirvana tape stuck in the tape player."

"Nirvana? Nice." She made a sarcastic fist pump.

"Only the best for you." I flirted, letting my smile – my best feature – light up my face.

"What's the gas mileage like?" She asked and pushed her hair off her shoulders. She smelled like strawberries. Mmm.

"Bad," I chuckled, putting my arm on the back of the bench. "And I wouldn't push it over fifty-five miles-per-hour, unless you want to hear it complain."

She gripped the steering wheel. "This is the coolest thing ever."

I held up my hands. "If you say so."

"It is." She insisted. "It's got history; you know?" She twisted in her seat to face me. "Like, listening to grizzled old men tell war stories with a beer in their hand."

"It is kind of a like a grumpy old dude." I agreed. "You gotta treat it right. Doesn't like change. Complains about everything."

"My grumpy old guy of a truck." She rubbed the steering wheel.

An idea occurred to me. "In the Black family, we tend to name anything that's even remotely sentimental. You should name it."

Her eyes widened at me. "I should, shouldn't I?" She went back to the steering wheel and then played with the gear shift with her pale hand. "What's a good old-man name?"

"Um," I stroked my chin, feeling the stubble that was starting to grow in. "Earnest?"

"Frank?"

"Earl?"

She nodded. "Earl. I think I like that."

I banged on the dashboard and then stroked it like a family pet. "Be good to Bella, Earl." I said to it and let Bella's giggles fill up the cab.