Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all the good parts.

Their relationship over the years was many things. It was hopeful and heartbreaking, fearless and desperate, suffocating and distant, comforting and awkward - it was all of these rolled into one.

But the one thing their relationship wasn't…

Complete.

It was always, always incomplete.

Then…

They walked along the dirt path together, Embry trailing a little ways ahead as Avery stopped to fasten the undone buckle of her shiny black school shoes. It was the first day of second grade, meaning Embry and Avery were old enough to walk to school together without the accompaniment of a parent. Sure, it was only a short walk down their street and across and up another, but it was a big step of independence for them.

Embry felt Avery's absence after a few short steps and turned to see what the hold up was. "Come on, Ave," he said. "If we're late for school, Mrs. Danes will tell our moms, and then we won't be allowed to walk by ourselves again." He spoke as if the matter was crucial—which it was, at the time.

Avery straightened up, gripped the straps of her backpack, and her little legs carried her forward to catch up with him. The apple in her lunchbox that swung by its handle at her side made an audible thudding sound as she skipped along. "Sorry," she said easily.

Here's the thing about Avery Gray: she was cute. Adorably cute. Even the sound of her running feet on the pavement was cute. She had long chocolate locks that weren't quite curly, but definitely not just wavy. Her eyes were big and brown, framed with thick lashes, and she had a tinge of natural pink blush permanently embedded into her cheeks.

But more importantly, Avery was feisty. More feisty than any six year old girl ever should be, thanks to the company she kept in her best friend, Embry. Embry and Avery had been best friends for as long as anyone could remember. But this was unbeknownst to them. Embry didn't know Avery was his best friend, nor did Avery know he was hers. They just were. They were all each other knew; all each other had ever known.

They came to the crossing before the school grounds. Embry stuck out his hand and Avery paused, looking at it. "My mom says we have to hold hands when we get to the crossing," he informed her. So she took his hand and they crossed the road to school. That was how their friendship worked. They didn't know it at the time, but they unquestionably trusted each other with their lives.

They would later learn the significance of this.

On the way back home from school, Avery and Embry walked along the same path they had earlier that day. Again, they held hands as they crossed the main road, this time needing no prompt. Avery smiled a toothy grin at the crossing lady, who gave her a wink in return as Embry tugged her along.

They traveled slower, in no rush to face a waiting teacher this time. "I heard Quil Ateara say a funny word today," Avery told Embry matter-of-factly. Quil Ateara was a boy that sat across from her in class. "He called Jacob Black a butthead."

"What's that?" Embry asked her as they continued to walk.

"I don't know," she said.

They continued to stroll quietly for a short distance, until Embry broke the silence. "Butt-head," he said, and they both keeled over laughing, still unsure if they even understood.

When they returned to their homes, they would quickly greet their moms and meet back in the street to play. They would run races, play tag, kick a ball around, anything really, even with some other local kids, so long as they were together. Embry never had to hold back or pretend to lose to Avery at these games. She was genuinely good competition for him, despite being a girl.

They sprinted down the street that day, pushing their legs to beat one another to the skid mark stains that acted as their official finish line. Avery won. "Say it," she prompted smugly, once he'd crossed the end after her. She smiled, awaiting her prize.

"You're the champion of the world," he admitted in defeat. She smiled even bigger; prouder. "Butthead," he added quietly. They doubled over once again, laughing at their new favourite word.

The next day, their walks to and from school were different. The dirt path they walked along the day before was now framed with wooden planks and filled with wet cement. "Now what?" Avery asked Embry as they looked down at the feat ahead of them. There was no way around. "Should we jump over it?"

Embry shrugged. "I don't know," he answered. "I guess." He reached out his hand to her, knowing that if they were to jump they'd obviously do it together, because that's the way they did everything. Avery's small hand slipped into his, and on the count of three they jumped.

They didn't make it. Together, they landed square in the middle of the path, their heels immediately sinking into the wet mush. "Crap!" Embry yelled, still squeezing Avery's hand, his lunch bag held in his other.

The hem of Avery's dress was splattered with specks of grey. "My dress!" she yelled. "My mama's going to kill me!" They both stood with their feet planted, frantically looking around. "My feet are stuck!" she cried, struggling to lift her buckle shoes out of the cement. "Are your feet stuck?" she asked him hysterically.

They were stuck. "Hold this," he told her authoritatively, releasing their joined hands to pass her his lunch bag. He bent over and tried to yank at her ankles.

"Ouch!" she complained, hitting him over the head with both of their lunches. "That hurts!"

"Stand still!" he told her from his crouching position, shielding himself with his arms from her blows. "I'm trying to get you out!"

"We're going to be late, Embry!" she yelled. "They won't let us walk alone again!"

With one big tug, Avery's feet slipped out of her shoes and she was thrown onto the grass beside the path, both bags still in hand. "Ouuuuuuuuch!" she screamed. Embry stood dumbfounded, looking between a sprawled out Avery and the little buckle shoes that still sat in the cement next to him. "I'm covered in poop!" she exclaimed in horror.

Embry was still at a loss for what to do when they heard the school bell ring in the distance. "Come on!" she called back to him, already turning around to make a run for it, her little feet only sporting frilly white socks now. Embry slipped out of his shoes and leapt off the path behind her. She handed him his lunch bag, and together, they ran to school.

Mrs. Danes was not pleased. Arriving five minutes late—a big deal in elementary school context—stood two shoeless students, both covered in mud. Mud, not poop. The whole class was snickering. "Alright, you two," she said, "to the principal's office." They walked back out of the class miserably, their muddy soles leaving prints on the carpet.

"Butthead," he called her. "We shouldn't have jumped."

"You said we should!" she defended.

"No," he said. "You did!"

And with that, he pushed her.

She pushed him back. Harder.

This carried on until they reached the office building.

It turns out it didn't matter whose idea it was or wasn't, they both got in equal amounts of trouble. Surprisingly, an office lady was able to find them spare shoes to loan for the day. "Don't you kids damage these shoes," she warned. "They're not yours for the keeping."

Embry and Avery, holding hands under the table, nodded silently as the shoes were placed on the desk in front of them. "My feet are still muddy," she whispered to him once they were left alone.

"Mine are, too."

"What do we do?" she asked him.

He thought for a second as she looked down at her swinging legs.

"Flip your socks inside out," he instructed.

And they both did so.

"It still feels squishy," she told him on the walk home. "Do your socks feel squishy?"

"Yeah," he said, as they neared the path of their earlier incident. The planted shoes they left behind were gone. "What?" he yelled. "Someone stole our shoes!"

"My mama's going to kill me," she whined.

As if their day couldn't get any worse, it started to rain. Embry began to break out into a sprint while Avery slung her backpack around to the front of her body, digging inside, calling out a "Wait!" Embry slowed to a stop, turning around, squinting back at her through the rain. "I have an umbrella!"

He ran back to her, helping her fish it out of her bag. Once they found it, they opened it up and walked closely together underneath the pink cover. At that moment, Paul, notorious class clown, was running past under his own umbrella. "Nice pink umbrella!" he teased. "Do you and your girlfriend share all your pink stuff, Embry?"

Paul wasn't really a bully, just a boy who was always offering sarcastic jokes. The three of them were actually friends at school, and even played together sometimes in the street. But today was not a good day to joke with Embry. "Hold this," he said to Avery quietly, handing the umbrella to her. "Wait here, okay?" She nodded.

Embry ran the short distance to catch up with Paul, pulled him by the back of his shirt and punched him in the face. "Ow!" Paul yelled, rubbing his jaw after his butt hit the ground.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Embry screamed down at the boy, until he was suddenly being dragged away by his best friend.

"Yeah!" she added, turning back around as they fled the scene, hand in hand.

They continued on home under their pink umbrella to run into some more trouble with their mothers.

Avery Gray did not get in trouble for being late to school. Avery Gray got in trouble for getting cement specks and mud on her dress. "Avery!" her mama yelled, tugging at the material. "What have you done?" Avery looked down, knowing there was no use arguing back. "I'm never going to be able to wash this out!"

Avery didn't care about dresses. She didn't care about keeping herself pretty and clean. She didn't care about her appearance. She was six years old and hung out with Embry, after all. He didn't care how she looked either. Unfortunately, her mother did. A lot. While Avery was quite a spitfire, she knew not to answer back to her mama. Her mama laid down the law in their house.

"I like it," her father said, glancing over his newspaper from where he sat. "It looks like you just came back from a battle." He winked at her as she giggled. Her dad was a good man. He was happy, so long as his daughter was happy. He often tried to ease the tension and soften the blows when she got in trouble like this.

"And whose shoes are these?" Her mama asked in surprise, down on her knees before her daughter. Avery shrugged. Before she was able to let fly again, Mr. Gray interrupted his wife.

"Well, that's good. Free shoes."

Mrs. Gray was not impressed, but gave up on trying to teach Avery a lesson. She and Embry were always getting into all sorts of trouble like this. Her scoldings always seemed to fall on deaf ears. You'd think she would try to keep Avery away from such a bad influence, but not only was she aware that Avery was likely the one influencing Embry, she also always liked the boy who lived down the street and made her daughter happier than anyone else ever could. "Go get changed," she told her, shaking her head. She did as she was told.

Later that night, tired as she was, Avery was having trouble falling asleep. This was a regular occurrence for her. The sound of her mama yelling at her papa was often all she could hear through the walls in the middle of the night. Their fighting scared her. It happened almost every night, and even on the nights it didn't happen, Avery would have nightmares about it. She would dream of her mama packing up and leaving. Or worse, her papa.

The thing is, when you're a kid, your parents are the ones who are supposed to hold it together; to be the strong fort built up around you to keep the scary and unknown out. But when Avery would hear her mama crying and yelling at night, she realized her parents weren't as strong as she had always thought. If they couldn't hold it together for her; to always make sure everything would be all right, then who would?

Unbeknownst to both of their parents, Embry would often slip out of his bedroom window at night, run through the street to Avery's house and tap three times on her window until she let him in. This began the month the nightmares did. He would sit with her in her bed and talk with her, trying to distract her from her parents arguing, until she fell asleep. This usually took about an hour each time. And then he would run back home and go back to sleep in his own bed.

On this particular night, Avery and Embry stayed up longer. He climbed into her bed and they sat next to one another, slumped across the mattress horizontally, their backs against her wall. "Stop stealing my blanket," she whispered to him, pulling on her side to cover her legs.

"You have more than half!" he whispered back, tugging forcefully on his side.

"Do not!"

Like his visits, this argument was also quite frequent.

They stopped when a door slammed in the next room. Avery tried blocking her ears, but gave up, knowing it was useless. Even if she couldn't hear it, she still knew what was going on. Embry and Avery's petty bickering was drowned out by her parents' blaring argument. Embry hesitated before speaking.

"Do you think we'll be like that?" he asked quietly in the darkness.

"Like what?"

He left a silent moment before continuing, allowing the screaming in the room next door to fill the air. "Like that," he said. "Will we always yell when we get married?"

Avery took a moment to contemplate before answering. "Are we going to get married?" she asked, confused.

"I don't know," he answered. "Who else am I going to marry?"

Avery wondered the same thing about herself, and it soon became obvious there was really no other option. Embry was her best friend, and he was a boy. Of course it made sense for her to marry him one day. She didn't really know any other boys that well.

"Oh," she said. "I don't think so." They both quietly imagined this newly formed picture of their grown-up future. "I don't think we'll be like that." Another door slammed, and the sound of Avery's mama crying was all that followed. "I hope not," she said quietly, more to herself before slipping off into a slumber.

Embry surrendered his side of the blanket to her completely, just in case.