I do not own Twilight or it's characters. I am not Stephanie Meyer. For further evidence, look at the fact that I wrote this fic and am thus unequivocally NOT MORMON.
Claire loves Quill, she does, he's the father/brother/cousin/best-friend she can't imagine (or remember) life without. But when, at age eleven, she gets her first crush on a member of the pack, it's Leah's smooth caramel skin she dreams about (the old sorrow in her darkly shining eyes, her strong, capable hands, her long legs melding into the swell of her hips, the narrow span of her waist, her shoulder blades knifing through the smooth expanse of her back...). Claire wants to be Leah and she wants to be Leah's and it makes her family's frequent visits to the Rez really awkward for an entire summer until the infatuation gradually fades and, during the second week of seventh grade, she notices the quiet, redheaded girl sitting two seats to the left and three in front of her in Language Arts.
Claire's first kiss doesn't come until six days before her seventeenth birthday. Amanda is out and proud, with all sorts of rainbow buttons pinned to her backpack. Claire still hasn't said the word lesbian to anyone outside her own mind, not even Quill (who, ever since her breasts really started to grow last year, has been looking at her differently somehow. It's beginning to creep her out).
Mom and Dad suggest that she invite her new friend along on their next trip to visit cousin Emily, and Claire does, even though it feels a little weird inviting a white girl to La Push, which has always seemed so magical and just... Native... to her. Even though it's both awkward and exciting to think about maybe being alone with Amanda, with this heavy, charged stillness that's been growing between them for weeks, with the way she's been stealing glances at Amanda's lips and the curve of her hips and the weight of her breasts. With the way she's pretty sure Amanda's noticed her looking. With the way she's pretty sure Amanda's looking back.
She shows Amanda the beach, and all the interesting things to do around town, and tries to explain how the glooming line of dripping trees has always felt to her as though it's full of promise. Amanda totally gets it. She doesn't think La Push is small or dinky or an example of the depressed economic reality of Indian Reservations. Claire thinks she just might be falling in love.
Back at Emily's they are stuffed with baked goods and lemonade. After the rain lets up the adults all go outside to watch Jenny (Sam and Emily's middle daughter) perform the new routine she learned in gymnastics on the sodden grass, and Amanda and Claire are left in the kitchen alone. Several silent moments pass before Amanda tilts her head back and Claire leans down and suddenly they are kissing.
There's an eternity in the minute and a half before the door squeaks open and Quill's standing there with this horrible expression on his face, sorrow and rage and Claire doesn't know what else. An instant later, before Amanda can even turn around to see who's there, he's gone. Claire doesn't get why he looked so upset. She always thought Quill was open minded, assumed that whenever she decided to come out he would support her in it just like he always had with everything else.
After the interruption it feels awkward to keep kissing so they go out to catch the last of Jenny's performance. Claire guesses Quill didn't stop to tell anybody what he saw; none of her relatives are looking at her differently or trying to start a conversation about how they love and accept her no matter what. Still, the horror on Quill's face, and the sharp pain of him looking at her that way, casts a dark cloud over the rest of the visit.
It's pretty late when they finally pull up at Amanda's house. Claire gets out of the car too, to hug her goodbye. They're hidden from Claire's parents' view by the darkness and the bulk of the car, so Amanda brushes a kiss across Claire's lips and squeezes her hand and tells her she'll call her in the morning. Driving away, the fierce, sharp joy that rushes through Claire eclipses everything.
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