Me and my gang
Chapter 1
I twirled my long, brown hair between my fingers and looked up at the clock that hung on the green wall, over the television. My stomach growled for the umpteenth time that hour, and my gaze flickered back over to where my mum was cooking dinner. I could never figure how she could spend so much time making and preparing food, and then hardly touch a morsel. I took after my father in more than one way, but the most prominent was the ability to eat as much as possible, and never have it show. Mum turned and caught me staring at the heavenly food with a ravenous look. I diverted my gaze as fast as I could, but I didn't miss the small smirk and the amusement that was clear as crystal in her brown eyes.
Grouching slightly, I heaved my body into the sofa next to my dad. He grunted in response, his eyes glued to the television watching the news. We sat in silence for a while until both our stomachs started to growl like crazy, almost as if they were part of a symphony. My dad and I had no cooking skills what so ever, but unlike me, he could put a pizza in the oven and not burn it to charcoal. I winced at the memory, and at the loss of such a wonderful pizza. My stomach growled even louder. I jumped out of the sofa and nearly threw myself at the yellow bowl of fruit. In a desperate attempt to please my annoying tummy I ate half a banana in one go. I almost gagged, but my hunger helped me keep it down. Mum gave me such a reproachful look I nearly fell of the chair, but she chose not to comment. Maybe that was because I was always grumpy when starved, and she had deliberately spent as much time as possible making dinner. I munched down the rest of the banana with a gleeful smile.
The following morning was Sunday which meant I had to get up way early to do my chores, and maybe some gardening. I hated that stuff but it came with a nice bonus on top of my monthly allowance, and for that I wasn't complaining. After all, a seventeen year girl like me can only go for so long without money for shopping and fun. Stretching my arms over my head I slid out of the soft bed, slouching over to my makeshift vanity. I pulled my messy, brown hair into a high ponytail; smiled at myself in the mirror, -I loved my brown eyes. My mother's eyes people told me- and put on a set of comfortable clothes before taking two steps at a time with a clear breakfast mission in mind. I sat down at the table in the kitchen area, grabbing four blueberry pancakes from the countertop on the way. My mum's blueberry pancakes were pure, fantastic awesomeness, and everybody in La Push new it. She sometimes made them at birthday parties for the younger kids on the rez, who gobbled them up willingly and greedily.
I ate as fast as I could, and chased the pancakes down with a decent glass of cold milk. In other words: a perfect breakfast. I heard my father emit a squeaky chuckle from behind the papers. ''What is so hilarious this time dad?'' I tried to make my voice stern, like my mum's, but failed miserably. This made dad choke on his morning coffee, spitting out some on the table. It was a tragic sight. I made a disgusted sound, and pushed my chair backwards. ''Ok, that was gross! I am so out of here.'' Before I got as far as the backdoor, a hand tugged my arm. ''Phoebe May Connor! Not so far missy, you have chores to do hun.'' As if I could forget. I had been without money the last five weeks, because I had broken the remote controller. I still thought it unfair. How could I know it was under the comfiest pillow in the house? I needed to make some serious cash fast. I smiled my so called ''angel smile'' trying to get across the message that, yes, I knew what I had to do, and you don't have to nag my ears off. However, my loveable father with coffee stains down his shirt continued. ''And I've called over Sam Uley, because we need to do some wood chopping before winter. He'll be here any minute.'' At that I snorted in the most unladylike fashion known to mankind. We were in the middle of April, and my father was already ranting on about firewood. At least I had finally figured out where I got my weirdo genes from. I wasn't looking forward to wielding an axe, because knowing me as I do, I would probably be the one getting hacked, and not the tree. Bad luck seems to run on my dad's side of the family. The only cool thing was seeing Sam. He and his fiancée, Emily, were both extremely nice, though Sam's build didn't look it. He was seriously big and tall. When I was younger I had loved climbing on him. I turned away from my dad who was blinking stupidly at me from behind his glasses, and put on my black converse that were one thread away from falling apart. The only thing holding them together was the twenty or so safety pins in them. They looked ridiculous, but I loved them all the same. Shrugging on my favourite purple jacket, I strode outside to wait for the helping hand to show up.
It was cold outside even for April. I closed my jacket, and swayed a little trying to stay warm. I still had enough time to run inside and put on a pair of gloves, but I tried instead to ignore the biting chill. I walked over to the ancient swing that creaked like crazy, and swung back and forth a few times until I saw Sam walk down the small slope to the house, followed by someone I didn't recognize. My dad came out of the house, shook hands, and exchanged small pleasantries. Even though they were several feet away from me, I could sense his discomfort from being around Sam. For some weird reason my father didn't like people being taller than him. It made him feel uncomfortable he'd told me. It did make sense though, because my father wasn't short unlike me, who had inherited my grandmother's rather petite stature. Sam looked around and caught my eye. A small smile became visible on his usually serious yet mysteriously calm face. I walked over as fast as I could without stumbling or slipping, and was swept up into a gigantic hug that forced the air out of my lungs. When he put me down I had trouble breathing. He rested his hand on my shoulder, which in Sam language meant he was sorry. "This is Jared. He's been working with me for the last couple of months. If you promise not to bite, I might let you say hello." He chuckled, and pointed to the tall man behind me, who answered by grinning full force. I hissed and snapped my teeth, noting how much he looked like Sam. I could have easily mistaken him for his brother if I hadn't known better. Both were scary tall, big and buff, with russet coloured skin and short, ink-black hair. Sam looked at me when he spoke next, but it was meant for my father. "We had one more pair of hands, but he called in sick. When do we start?" He sounded almost a bit apologetic. I couldn't see why though, because it looked like he and Jared could easily hack down the entire forest in a minute or so. Dad nodded politely, still a bit touchy the poor thing, and motioned towards the deadly weapons of mass destruction.
The axe felt heavy in my hand. From my right I could feel Sam stare disapprovingly first at me, and then even more so at my father. He obviously shared my sceptical point of view, or maybe I'd just inherited his from the years I'd spent known him. Dad and Jared however, were busy going at it. Jared wasn't even breaking a sweat, but dad's breath was coming in short bursts. He seriously needed to use the upstairs gym more. I closed my eyes, breathing in and out a few times. I gave myself a good 10 seconds until I opened them again, staring down my opponent. It wasn't that the tree looked menacing or anything, –not yet at least- it was just the fact that I wasn't too comfortable around axes. With an audible gulp I swung feebly. The axe grazed the tree ever so slightly. Feeling braver, I swung the axe a bit harder. This time it embedded itself a good 2cm. It made me happy in a twisted way. I pulled it out, and made to swing it forward, but the stupid handle was wet with melted frost so it slipped out of my frozen hands. There came a sick noise, like something squelching and snapping at the same time. I didn't notice the pain until both Sam and Jared yelled out. Dad's head snapped up, and his facial expression turned from peeved into terrified in a split second, his colour changing from red to chalk white. However I couldn't care less what he was thinking, because all I could think about was the excruciating pain that flamed up my leg. It seared, throbbed and God knows what else it did. I doubled over grimacing, tears streaking down my face like two, small waterfalls. The pain was unbearable! I had never wanted to pass out cold, but now I was almost begging. I was going to kill whoever said that third time is a charm.