The Imprinted Chronicles: Book One

Chapter One

Finding a job hadn't worked out nearly as well as she'd hoped.

After walking all around town for two days straight, and hitchhiking to Forks this afternoon after meeting with Embry Call, the closest thing Samantha Carter had gotten to an offer was a single tentative maybe. A very tentative maybe, and Samantha wasn't exactly sure she was even legally allowed to work the hours that the all night gas station was asking for. The thought of a midnight shift off a small highway in the middle of nowhere wasn't pleasant, but hey, she'd take what she could get. She wasn't scared. A girl who'd grown up on the streets of Chicago either didn't get scared that easy or spooked at everything. It was a hell of a walk though, being on the outskirts of the reservation, and Samantha didn't have a car. Her father did but she'd be an idiot if she asked him to drive her anywhere.

Samantha didn't blame or hate the man for succumbing to a lifelong drinking habit, but that didn't mean she was going to climb in a vehicle again with him anytime soon. Once from the airport was enough to last her permanently.

It had taken her almost an hour to jog back into town from the gas station, and the sun was just starting to set when she flopped wearily on her father's front porch steps. It was in a sad state of disrepair, enough that the rotting wood banister creaked warningly when she leaned back against it. From her vantage point she could see down the street, where all the other houses stretched. It was nice, this street. Samantha's mother had rented a downtown apartment when they lived in the city, and so she'd never gotten to see things such as yards and lawnmowers and white picket fences. The houses were mostly small, modest dwellings, but grass was clipped and lawns were kept landscaped and tidy. Fresh paint adorned many of the homes, and the colors were a combination of bright and serene, letting Samantha imagine that they radiated a feeling of happiness and contentment that concrete walls just didn't have.

She thought that she could like it here.

"Hey! Sam! Get in here!"

Well…maybe she could like it here. Grudgingly Samantha rose to her feet, tired and sore from her hour long jog.

"Yeah, Dad?"

Her father was seated at the kitchen table, a beer in one hand and a bag of chips at his elbow. The only thing the man in front of her had in common with the picture her mother had kept all those years was his eyes. The picture had shown a dark, broody, and handsome man with piercing eyes. These days Joseph Carter was no longer the attractive youth her mother had once fallen in love with. His heavily muscled figure had gone to softened mass, his waist length black hair thinning, his teeth yellowed from lack of care and tobacco. Faded tattoos adorned his arms and showed beneath the open collar of his shirt. For seventeen years this man had not been a part of her life, but Samantha refused to hold him accountable for the decisions her mother had made. And just because she didn't particularly like him on a personal level, didn't mean that Joseph Carter wasn't her father.

"You know how to cook?"

He hadn't bothered to ask her last night because he hadn't bothered to come home. Samantha had scrounged around and found almost no food in the house. The bag of chips her father was finishing had been her dinner and tonight's backup.

"Kind of. I don't mind doing it, but there's nothing to cook."

His stare was flat and unfriendly, and Samantha decided that he was one of those people you had to walk around more carefully. "I could go get some groceries?" she offered softly. Meek seemed to appease him more, so he merely grunted at her and dug in his jeans. The ten dollar bill and loose change he pulled out wouldn't go far, but Samantha slipped it into her back pocket and thanked him.

"Get some more beer too," he added gruffly as she headed out of the house. Sighing, she felt her dinner grow even simpler in her belly. A six pack of the cheap stuff she knew he drank would take most of the money, assuming she could even buy it. She'd have to sweet talk the clerk, if that was possible, since she was underage. The local grocery store wasn't that far away from her father's house, just down the street and around the corner. Still her legs had been protesting before she even sat down, so it was wearily that she dragged herself into the store. This time the bell over her head jangled quietly. Much better.

"We close in five minutes." The voice sounded bored and slightly irritated, and even though Samantha couldn't see the girl's face from behind the magazine she read, the way her foot tapped impatiently against the leg of her stool told Samantha enough.

"I'll be four," Samantha said with a shrug. The magazine lowered, just enough for the pretty Quileute cashier to give Samantha a dubious once over, before raising the magazine back up and popping her gum loudly. The beer was as expensive as Samantha had guessed, so the rest only covered two boxes of generic brand macaroni and cheese. Close enough. True to her word, four minutes later Samantha set the three items up on the counter. The cashier, who was wearing an absurdly friendly smiley face nametag that said "Hi! I'm Leah!" gave her a flat look.

"You're not twenty one," Leah told her without preamble, straightening up on her stool so that she was taller sitting than Samantha was standing. "Beat it." Samantha leaned forward on the counter, not letting the other girl intimidate her, although she figured that sweet talking was out of the question.

"Yeah, I know," Samantha said in an honest tone. "Here's the deal. I was talking to a guy named Embry today and he told me all you La Push people know who's who. Which means that you probably know Joseph Carter, the drunk down the street. See, if dear old dad doesn't get this," she pointed at the beer, "then I don't get to eat this." She pointed at the boxes of macaroni and cheese. "Wanna catch me a break?"

Leah was silent for a moment, and then shrugged.

"I get it, but I can't do anything about it. Sorry."

Samantha sighed but nodded. Leah started to ring up the food, but Samantha stopped her.

"You don't want the rest?" she asked, surprised. Samantha gave her a crooked smile.

"I'm not an idiot. I know better than to go back there without his booze. A week has taught me much about the guy. Thanks anyways." As Samantha started to head out, Leah cursed under her breath.

"Okay, fine, chica. Come back." She rang up everything and gave Samantha back the little bit of change with a glare. "If anyone asks I didn't do this. And if you're pulling one over on me, I'm gonna kick your ass."

She shouldn't have laughed, but Samantha couldn't help herself. She liked the other girl's attitude. Samantha said her thanks and slipped out of the store, the brown grocery bag hiding the beer from view. She nodded at the gigantic man that held the door open for her as he was stepping inside.

"We're closed! Get your ass out of here, Sam! Come back tomorrow!"

"Come on Leah, I just need some milk--"

"Out!"

There was a crashing sound and a masculine curse making Samantha laugh again. Oh yeah, she loved the attitude.


School was school, no matter how big or small the building was.

Her Chicago school had been completely stuffed full of people, and it was strange not having to step through a metal detector before entering school grounds, but once she settled down in class there wasn't much difference. She was the new girl, which granted Samantha the courtesy of stares and whispers, but she was so stereotypically Quileute that it was nearly impossible to not blend in somewhat. There wasn't anything of interest that happened, all of her teachers were kind enough to not make her introduce herself, and she wasn't that far behind even after missing two weeks of school.

Lunch brought a pang of sorrow, realizing as she stepped through the doors that the close couple friends she'd had back home were long gone. But Samantha steeled her shoulders, not bothering to try and find a table that would let her sit with them. Instead she took her state provided sack lunch and slipped back out the doors. Some kids were eating outside despite the slight drizzle, and Samantha was content to kick one of the mesh tables with her foot to shake the water loose before hopping up on top of it. Maybe to someone else the peanut butter sandwich and chips and apple would have been unappealing, but Samantha gobbled them down happily. As she ate she noticed that more of the students were wandering outside, having finished lunch. Most of them looked like her, with only the random paler or darker skin, or blonde or red hair. Blending in wasn't bad.

A group of boys came barreling out after everyone else, remarkable to her only in the fact that they all could have been brothers to Embry Call: tall, muscled, and fit. Paths cleared for them without them trying, and Samantha wondered if they even realized that some other guys had been playing basketball on the half court near her table before they took it over. She watched them with clinical eyes, paying more attention to their skills than anything else. She hadn't made any friends yet and she was tempted to ask them if she could play too. She wasn't great at basketball, but she liked it. The guys seemed rowdy but not rude, apologizing politely whenever their game drifted too much into everyone else. She didn't think they'd be jerks if she asked, but apparently she'd considered it for too long, because the bell rang, indicating they had five minutes to get to their next classes.

Samantha realized that she had made a mistake by not taking her trash back inside yet because all the bodies were plugging up the single entrance to the building, jostling each other in their attempts to get inside first. Sighing, Samantha remained on her table, idly bouncing her wadded up paper sack back and forth as she finished her apple.

"Hey, new girl! You're gonna be late." A male voice made Samantha turn. It was one of the boys she'd seen in two of her classes so far. "It's Samantha, right? I'm Nick, and I can show you your next class." He grinned and reached for her hand confidently, presumably to take her inside, but Samantha shifted slightly out of his reach. She gave him a smile to soften the rejection, holding up her mostly eaten apple as an excuse.

"Thanks, I'll be there in a sec. I'm going to milk the whole new student thing today. I only get one day to get away with it." Samantha joked, eyes flickering around to let him know she wasn't that focused on talking to him. The boy shrugged, but smiled back as he left. Samantha took one more bite of her apple and munched slowly, savoring it while waiting until everyone had almost finished clearing out. The group of rowdy boys passed by, one of them dragging another in a choke hold. A third glanced at her curiously where she sat, and the fourth gave her a grin that reminded her again of Embry Call.

"Hey new girl, you're gonna be la---aate," the fourth one teased, mimicking the guy from earlier as he drew out the last word. The third winked at her to soften the teasing.

"Food takes precedence over education any day," Samantha quipped back, hopping off her table and wandering inside after them, finishing the fruit.

"No wonder Embry likes her," one of the first two whispered loudly, and Samantha choked on her last bite. They all four laughed, causing her to flush bright red, and the second must have felt bad because he punched the first in the back of the head.

"Stop teasing her," he commanded, and to her interest all of the other immediately quieted down, although they were still grinning at her as she parted ways with her trash.

The rest of the day passed quickly, a series of classes and note taking and lockers. Finally the last bell rang and Samantha was able to escape the scrutiny of strangers, slipping off school grounds before anyone decided to be too friendly. It wasn't that Samantha didn't want friends. She just wanted a chance to figure out these people before she became to close with any of them. She hated finding herself in the middle of a group that she couldn't stand. She'd rather hang back for a while.

Her father wasn't home when she got there, but the answering machine had a couple messages on it. One was from the a credit card collection company, one was from someone named Sue asking that her father bring her over to dinner soon, and the last was from the Forks-La Push One-Stop, telling her that if she wanted the job to be there tonight at eleven. They could give her three, maybe sometimes four, red-eye shifts a week.

Hells yeah, she wanted the job.

Samantha saved the messages for her father and flopped down on the couch, ripping through her homework quickly so she'd have a chance to sleep between the dojo and her shift. Three nights a week wasn't bad, she could always doze while she was there. Four might be pushing it but she thought she could manage for a while. Samantha had seen enough bored looking gas station attendants to know she'd have plenty of downtime while she was there, it wasn't a heavy exertion job by far. Homework was eventually done and Samantha was trotting down the street towards Embry's. She probably could have made it in time by walking but she definitely didn't want to be late.

There were already three other people in the dojo when Samantha got there. One was an older man, probably in his mid sixties, and Embry was coaching him through some reps on the home gym. A second man, this one middle aged who resembled the first, was happily pounding away at a punching bag. The third was a little girl, seated on the top of Embry's desk and happy as can be with a lollipop in her mouth. Embry looked over at the horrid bell and gave Samantha a huge smile as she kicked off her shoes.

"You came. That's cool." He sounded relieved. "How are you with kids?"

"Depends. How big is your candy hoard?" Samantha joked, already heading over to the desk. The little girl was probably the most beautiful child Samantha had ever seen, if you discounted the sticky mess all over her hands and mouth.

"Top drawer, left side. That's my emergency Claire stash. Thanks, Sam." Embry turned his full attention back to the task at hand, and Samantha sat down in the chair in front of Claire.

"Hello, Miss. Claire," Samantha said, holding out her hand. "I'm Samantha. It's very nice to meet you."

"Hewwoh," Claire said around her lollipop, grinning toothily as she took Samantha's hand in her tiny sticky one. "Qwil twaught me to shake hands. He said twwee times." She solemnly shook Samantha's hand three times. Samantha did her best not to laugh, but she caught Embry grinning out of the corner of her eye.

"Well, Qwil, whoever he is, certainly did a good job teaching. Is he your brother?" Samantha silently wondered how to get the sticky off without offending Claire.

"No! Eww! Brudders have cooties."

"Quil has cooties too, Claire," Embry teased her from across the room, much to little Claire's indignation.

"Nuhuh nuhuh nuhuh! I'll tell Unca Sam and he'll tell Unca Jake on you!" In her vigorous denial, Claire managed to lose the lollipop, which Samantha fetched off the ground and tossed in the wastebasket.

"Oooh. Embry's in trouble," Samantha said, playing along with widened eyes. Claire nodded positively.

"Unca Embry's always in trouble. Aunt Emily says it's cause he tinks he's all dat." Samantha giggled despite herself when she heard Embry groan. Claire, emboldened by Samantha's attention, starting rambling as she licked at the stickiness left on her fingers.

"Do you know wat all dat means? Qwil won't tell me what dat is, he says dat Unca Embry was never all dat, but he still won't tell me. Qwil says Unca Embry tinks Sam is all dat but Unca Sam didn't understand when I asked him why Unca Embry thought he was all dat. Aunt Emily told Unca Sam that she tinks he's all dat, and then she kissed him. Ewww." Claire made a face before soldiering on. "I told Qwil and he said tinking someone's all dat means you want to kiss them, but I don't know why Unca Embry would want to kiss Unca Sam. And if Unca Embry tinks he's all dat, does dat mean he wants to kiss himself? I wish someone would tell me better."

"Candy, Sam! Candy now," Embry choked out in a strangled voice. Even with his russet skin he was bright red, and the other two men in the room were laughing. Samantha had been staring at the little girl in shock, and she jumped at Embry's voice. Feeling her own face grow hot, Samantha found another lollipop and unwrapped it quickly, handing it to Claire who was looking at her speculatively.

"Unca Embry called you Sam. Does dat mean he wants to kiss you? Eww! What if he has cooties? Oh! Are you all dat too? Tell me what dat means, pweeeeassssse!" Samantha's jaw had dropped, and she stared in horror at the huge puppy dog eyes she was faced with.

"And the girl runs screaming," she heard Embry mutter under his breath. The older man patted him on the arm sympathetically. After deciding to help cut the poor guy a break, Samantha reached for her own lollipop and unwrapped it, thinking of a distraction for the little girl.

"How about this, Claire? I'll ask you a question and then you ask me a question, and at five questions, if you ask me what all that is, I'll tell you."

"Deal!" The little girl and Samantha both put their lollipops in their mouths and thought about their questions. Finally Claire had one first.

"Oh tay. Wat kind is dat?" She pointed a sticky finger at Samantha's lollipop. Samantha pulled it out of her mouth, examined it carefully, then popped it back in again.

"Watermelon. It's very yummy, although grape is my favorite. Now it's my turn. Who's Quil?"

"My bestest fwiend ever," Claire declared proudly. "He's big and funny and carries me even when I'm not tired and only makes me take a nap when I'm gwouchy and he knows everyting! And he doesn't have cooties, Unca Embry!"

"Okay, your turn, Claire," Samantha reminded her because she was getting distracted by glaring across the room with her tongue stuck out.

"Hmmm…ice cream or bwownies?"

"What was that last one?"

"Brownies," Embry muttered helpfully, apparently paying much more attention to the conversation than his body language was telling.

"Oh. Well, I'd have to say…ice cream. My favorite's chunky monkey," Samantha made a fat monkey impression with her face that made Claire giggle. "My turn. So does Embry have cooties?"

To her credit, Claire wanted to give the best possible answer so she thought about it awhile.

"Yes. He used to not have cooties, though," she decided. "Because girls wouldn't want to kiss him if he had cooties, and I heard Unca Paul tell Unca Jared that Unca Embry used to get waid all the time and when I asked Qwil wat waid meant, he said dat it was when a boy kissed a girl a lot and den he hit Unca Paul. So if Unca Embry was getting waid, den he must not have had cooties. But I haven't seen Unca Embry kiss a girl in a long time, so dat must mean he doesn't wanna get waid any more and dat must mean he has cooties again."

"Oh my god…" Samantha's brain couldn't work fast enough to head the little girl off.

"I'll find out!" Claire declared helpfully, ignoring Embry's pained whimper. "Unca Embry? Do you still wanna get waid?"

"Claire! That is a…ahhh… personal question. You shouldn't ask adult men personal questions in front of others, okay?" Samantha tried. "Ahh, next question. What do you want to know?"

"But I wanna know--"

"Listen to Sam, Claire," Embry growled, shooting the little girl a look. "Or I'll tell your Mom to skip ice cream tonight."

"Yes, Unca Embry." Claire looked devastated at the idea. "Sorwy, Sam."

"It's okay, Claire." She brightened noticeably and was giving Samantha another speculative look.

"Unca Sam is Sam. I don't wanna get confused anymore. Can I call you someting else?"

"Is that your question?"

' "Is dat yours?" Claire replied cleverly, making Samantha laugh and impulsively hug her.

"Sure, two questions down. And yes, you can call me Samantha if you'd like."

"Nope," Claire shook her head. "Dares dis girl at preschool named Samantha and she was mean to me. Samantha. Sammy. Sam. Sim. Sim Sam Sum. Sims Sams Sums." Claire began giggling, and Samantha rolled her eyes teasingly.

"I'm drawing the line at Sums, sweetie," Samantha told her. "I'm not sure I want to be a known by math terminology."

"Oh tay! I wanna call you Sims. Can I? Pwease? Pweeeeeeease?"

"Fine," Samantha caved at the resurfacing puppy dog eyes. "Three down each. Time for your fourth question."

"Hmmmm. Do you tink Unca Embry's all dat?" Apparently Embry couldn't win for losing today, and his groan was audible. Still it was cute to see him squirm. Samantha had gotten a flirtatious vibe from him yesterday but since little Claire had outed him, it made her a little bolder.

"I barely know him, Claire." Samantha gave Embry a cheeky grin as she did a little spin in the desk chair, sucking on her lollipop. "But I would say the potential could be there. He is awfully pretty."

"Ewww. Boys aren't supposed to be pretty, they're handsome. Qwil's handsome, Mommy says. Daddy says dat gen…gen…gen-et-ics suck."

This time Samantha burst out laughing. "Yeah, they can be a little rough. Genetics gave me weird toes. Good thing you're all pretty, Claire." Claire nodded solemnly, like she agreed wholeheartedly that it was a good thing.

"My fourth question. Is your Uncle Embry as nice as he seems?"

"Oh, yes. He is very nice. He always buys me ice cream and takes me swimming when he's watching me. He said he'll teach me kar-kar-karate? Karate. He said he'll teach me now dat I'm five and a half." Apparently the half was very important. "Last question! What's all dat? Member you promised." Claire gave her a stern look that said Samantha better not back out on the agreement.

Samantha leaned in, motioning Claire to do the same. And then she whispered in her ear. "All that is when someone is so amazing that you can't look away. That just being in the same room with them makes everything that much better. That's what all that is."

Claire processed that, and then she crowed in glee. "Ha, Unca Embry! You're not all dat! Qwil is! Nannah nannah!" She stuck her tongue out at Embry, who had just finished up with the older gentleman and was making his way to the desk. When she stuck her tongue out, he made a grab for her and ended up chasing the squealing little girl around the dojo until she collapsed on the mats. In retribution Embry tickled her mercilessly as she shrieked "unca". Claire's mother came in while Embry was giving the little girl a zerber on her tummy, and Claire fled laughing and screaming into her mother's arms.

"Thanks, Embry. I hope she wasn't too much trouble."

"Nothing too bad, just a little emasculation, that's all." Embry ruffled Claire's hair and dropped a kiss on her head. The pair left, with Claire yelling "Bye, Sims!" as she did. Embry gave Samantha a sheepish look, and he took refuge in speaking with the two men. Samantha stuffed her lollipop in her cheek and poked around in the bathroom, hoping and finding cleaning supplies. The mirrors on the long wall were clean, but without much else to do, Samantha went about making them glisten. Afterwards she moved to the bathroom and gave that a good scrub. She was fiddling with the blinds on the front windows, trying to get them to draw up when the two men left, leaving her and Embry alone.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Embry moved to help her, having to brace the base of the blinds well above her head and tugging harder to get the string to catch. When that was done he rubbed his hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable.

"Yeah, about Claire…"

"She sure outed you, huh?"

Embry looked at Samantha, surprised at her blunt statement, and she chuckled. "My favorite part was her talking about how much you got waid."

"I'm sure that Quil didn't punch Paul nearly hard enough to compensate for that conversation," Embry groaned, flopping down on the couch, his long limbs hanging over the sides. "I'm not nearly as bad as it sounded." There was a touch of a plaintive tone to his voice, and Samantha bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"If it helps, I don't think you have cooties."

"It's a start," he grinned as he watched her work. "You're a cool chick. Scrubbing for free and not running screaming out of here from a Claire overdose."

"Don't think I won't hit you up for one hell of a letter of recommendation later, Mr. Call."

"Embry."

"Sir."

"Embry. I'm nineteen, that doesn't count as deserving of a sir from someone almost my own age."

Samantha looked at him in shock. He looked at least five or six years older than that. Embry went on to explain. "I had a tough time in school. Missed a lot of days, had a hard time making it up. Some of my friends are in the same boat. Quil and Jake are my age, and Quil was the only one that was going to actually graduate anywhere close to on time. I punked out and got my GED and the rez helped set me up with a loan for this place when I turned eighteen. Jake's completely screwed because his dad wants him to get a real diploma, but he's gone scouting so much…Anyway, I'm not that old."

"You look older," Samantha murmured, and he winked at her.

"Gen-et-ics," he drawled.

"Hmmm…"

Samantha worked for a while in quietness, but eventually she needed the lump of man on the couch to move so she could reach the windows behind him. When she said so, he simply grinned and stayed put, and it was obvious that he was silently daring her. Samantha had just met this guy, but she never could resist a challenge. She kicked off her socks and stepped up on the couch arm, balancing her feet on either side of Embry's left leg. As she moved down the couch, she made sure to step on him several times.

Samantha wasn't tiny, she had too much lean muscle mass packed on her five-foot-four frame, but her weight didn't seem to bother him at all. So she made sure to bounce up and down a couple times on the balls of her feet when they were planted on his abdomen. He seemed to perk up when she reached his chest and head, but Samantha had no intention of giving him a look up her shirt and she firmly placed the toes of one foot over his eyes before kicking him none too gently in the shoulder. Embry chuckled and obediently rolled over on his stomach.

"You don't have weird toes," he told her, sounding sleepy. The patter of the rain outside was soothing, so Samantha couldn't blame him. She smiled at his comment but said nothing as she used his shoulders as a stool to get the highest points. When she was finally done she hopped off the couch and regained her socks, checking her watch. Embry rolled back over but stayed in relaxed mode.

"Yay, I didn't get fired on my first day," Samantha said happily. "Thanks again for letting me do this. I'll log the hours if you can just sign off on them each week. I gotta go, I landed a night shift job and need to catch a cat nap beforehand."

"Yeah? Okay. The two hours flew by, what with you using me as a mattress and all," Embry joked, then he thought about what he said and he blushed. "Erm. Yeah. Today's not my day, apparently."

"You're a good mattress, Embry," Samantha told him with a smirk, putting on her shoes. Despite the slight awkwardness caused by Claire's innocent comments, Samantha was reluctant to leave. She liked talking with him. She didn't have that many people to talk to anymore and it was nice.

"Hey, I don't know how busy you are but you're welcome here whenever. You're working for free, so if you want to come work out, go for it. Anytime."

"Thanks," she smiled. "Maybe I'll take you up on that. See you later, Embry." She left him on the couch, sprawled out like a dog taking a nap.

For some reason the analogy just seemed to fit.


It was a long walk to her job and the road was an empty dark stretch of highway. And while she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her the entire time, Samantha ended up safely at her destination. The One-Stop was about what she had expected. A bored sounding manager droned on for about three hours, in which time Samantha learned that she could have done this job without bothering to crack the manual he stuffed in her hands before leaving. Feeling obligated to be a good employee, she tried to read it when he left, but frankly, when after her whole shift only five people had come in, she decided that if there was a gas or register problem then the five people would have to deal.

She learned that night that she could balance a Bic pen on her upper lip for thirteen minutes straight.

The predawn walk home was a little brighter, but not by much until she had almost reached her father's home. The feeling of being watched stayed, all the way until she got into town. Once safely inside the house she found that Joe was passed out on the couch, the room indicating that he hadn't even made it to the kitchen to read her note about where she was.

Well, that didn't exactly make her feel loved.

Yawning, Samantha scrounged for breakfast. As she was doing so, the phone rang. Samantha hurried to get it, wondering who in the world would actually think that Joe would be conscious at this hour.

"Hell-lo," Samantha drawled around her mouthful of cold macaroni and cheese.

"Miss. Carter?"

Samantha blinked, surprised.

"Yes? Who's speaking?"

"This is Carol from the Chicago CPS. I was just wondering how you've settled in so far."

Samantha bit back a groan. Child Protective Services. Of course they would be checking in on her, she was just lucky they hadn't sent a La Push representative out here. She didn't think the drunk dad on the couch would look too great.

"Umm, fine. It's good," Samantha hedged, trying to think of what the woman would want to hear without completely lying. "It's nice getting to know Dad finally." That might have been stretching the truth a little too far so she stuck with more typically teenage things. "School's boring, but school's always boring. My room's bigger here, although I haven't done anything with it yet. I miss Mom… I'm not sure what to say, ma'am."

"Oh, don't worry about it, dear, that's fine," Carol sounded happy, "We just wanted to check on you, that's all. I have a few numbers for you in case you need us for any reason."

"Hold on just one second…" Samantha rummaged around the drawers and found a chewed on pen and some scrap paper. Carol gave her own number and also that of a Forks CPS agent.

"La Push is so small that they usually use the local police force to investigate any problems," Carol told her. "However I spoke to one of the reservation council members and she said that if you need anything or have any concerns for you to call Sue Clearwater or Sam Uley. Here's their numbers. Also I might call once or twice just to make sure you're fine."

Samantha wrote those numbers down and checked her watch, realizing that she was going to be late to school if this went on any longer. She still needed to shower and change.

"Cool. Thanks, Carol, I really appreciate it. Hey, just to let you I'm volunteering a lot at a local fitness center so if you can't get a hold of me immediately, don't panic. I promise I'll call you back asap." That would hopefully cover being gone for work and Joe's absences.

"That's wonderful, dear. We'll talk to you soon. Bye!"

Carol hung up and Samantha breathed a sigh of relief. That could've gone badly. She had absolutely no intentions of getting thrown into foster care, not when she'd worked this hard to meet her scholarship requirements. She needed stability, and as unimpressive as her father was, at least she knew what to expect from him. She'd known she'd be here eventually, and Samantha was certain that she could handle Joe Carter just fine. It was the rest of the world that she was uncertain about, and she wasn't taking any chances.

Still, Samantha couldn't help herself as she passed by the couch to her room, tossing the phone at his unconscious form. "The man called, they suspect that you're a douche bag, dad."

Joe said nothing. Samantha hadn't really expected that he would.


The last student had left, and Samantha had finished cleaning up after the class while Embry worked on some paperwork in the corner. Samantha cast around for something else to do to help, but there really wasn't anything left. Her hours were done and she didn't have to work tonight, and since Embry looked like he wasn't going to be done anytime soon, Samantha decided to take the opportunity he had offered to her.

For some reason Embry kept it absolutely freezing in here, so she stripped off both her sweatshirt and the tee shirt she customarily wore underneath it. She shivered slightly as the cold air hit the bare skin of her back and her abdomen beneath her sports bra, and she bounced a little on the balls of her feet before pulling off her socks and tossing them with the rest of her clothes. The loose sweats she wore weren't as good as a karate gi, but they would be fine for what she had planned tonight.

There was an i-pod player in the corner of the room, but since Samantha had sold her own i-pod for cash weeks ago, she settled for just the heaviest playlist she could find. She smirked when it was mostly rap, having pictured Embry as more of the hard rock type. She turned it up as far as she felt wouldn't disturb him and began stretching. It had been awhile since she had had a good workout. Her runs in and out of town to the gas station the last couple of days had kept her in shape, but her muscles were tight from lack of proper exercise. It took her longer than normal to limber up, but by the time she was done she rolled her shoulders, feeling them crack satisfyingly. Another crack of her neck and of each ankle signified she was ready.

"That's terrible on your joints, you know."

Samantha had realized the cracks were loud enough for him to hear them over the music, but she just smirked over her shoulder. "Yeah, but it just feels so good."

"Tell me that in thirty years," he chuckled, scribbling with a pencil as he worked. He didn't seem like he was paying much attention to her though, so she didn't feel uncomfortable as she pulled one of the jump ropes out of the play bin and used it to warm up. Actually Samantha couldn't stand jumping rope, it made her feel like she was a child again, but it was one of the absolute best ways to get her heart rate up. By the time she had counted to a thousand and back, the chill of the room didn't bother her anymore. It actually felt good, cooling her as sweat gathered between her shoulder blades and ran down her spine. She rolled her shoulders one more time, just for the fun of hearing the pop, and abandoned the rope for the hanging punching bag.

She hadn't thought to wrap her hands and she wasn't about to break her wrists by practicing punches. Therefore she decided on a series of kicks, alternating low and high to work all of her muscles. She was already feeling the burn from jumping rope, which was a bad sign, but she pushed past it and was able to settle into a steady rhythm. Low side kick, middle side kick, high sidekick kick. Repeat other side, repeat with roundhouse kicks, repeat with reverse roundhouse kicks. Start over again.

It had been awhile since she had tried to do any of the more advanced kicks, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins tempted her too much. Samantha took a few steps back to gather momentum, before executing her first flying sidekick in nearly two months. It wasn't very high, but it went well. The flying roundhouse…not so much.

Samantha wasn't sure exactly what she did wrong, but she knew as her foot slipped a glancing blow off the bag that she was going to land badly. Her foot was up too high and her body was angled wrong. She tried to twist in midair to regain rebalance, bracing herself for the painful face plant. She wasn't particularly surprised at the arm that hooked beneath her abdomen, knowing that Embry was probably watching more than he'd seemed, but she was thankful that he didn't try to catch her completely. Her momentum was such that stopping her cold in midair might have hurt, but Embry just used his arm to slow her down, allowing her to face plant with much less force if not dignity. It still didn't feel good.

"Ouch," Samantha murmured into the mat. She rolled over and looked up at the man squatting over her. Embry was giving her a look, one that echoed his words.

"That was dumb."

Feeling obliged to defend herself, and knowing that wouldn't be convincing from her back, Samantha accepted the hand he offered and climbed back to her feet.

"I can do those," she started, then flushed slightly at the continuance of his look. "At least I could a while ago."

"You're out of shape," Embry told her, although not unkindly.

"Really?" Samantha looked down at her toned body in mock dismay and smirked back up at him when she caught him reddening slightly. He must have inadvertently followed her eyes as she'd looked. Embry cleared his throat, recovering quickly and going into sensei mode.

"Really. If you want to do those kinds of moves here, then you need to be conditioning more than running up and down the highway, Sims."

"You're not actually going to use Claire's nickname are you?" It came out more petulantly than she'd planned. Embry just grinned, his teeth flashing white and straight, knowing that she'd be unable to refuse after caving to the little girl. "Wait, how did you know about my runs?"

"I told you already, this is La Push. It's our business to know everything…Sims."

Samantha humphed. "It's a stupid nickname, Embry."

"Ahh, but it's yours now. You should probably learn to love it."

Samantha growled a little at him, something that he seemed to find immensely funny. He tapped her nose with one large finger in admonishment, making her blink and go cross-eyed for a moment. Then his back was to her as he walked across the room to his desk.

"Twenty roundhouse kicks, perfect ones, each side," Embry ordered as he settled back down in his chair. "Your form's loose, that's why you couldn't hold it with the flying kick. And Sims?"

The slight tone to his voice made her straighten even as she moved back to steady the bag on its chain. "Yeah?"

"Break your neck in my dojo and I'm gonna be pissed."

Despite the small smile tugging his lips, she believed him completely.