Chapter 2:
(RA)2 + ROMA + (MA)2 + (GA)2 + OO + (LA)2 = I know Chemistry too, David.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2006
Jared sat behind me for the remainder of the week. He never really said anything else to me, he was always one of that last people in the room. And on Wednesday, I wasn't in class. As the school's blossoming photog, I'd volunteered to take class and senior pictures for the year book. Lots of the candid's of the school property and functions were mine too. I was free labor; the school provided me supplies and bathroom breaks.
Dance, monkey. Dance.
When I stopped by at the end of class, my lovely little Canon EOS Rebel still suspended around my neck, I presented Mr. Forster with my pass from the Main Office. The class had begun filtering out as I explained, indicating my camera, what I'd been up to and that it was totally legit and yes, I would make sure I got the notes from someone.
Tab waved at me, knowing I'd see her in a few minutes at lunch and I didn't notice the rest of the students until I realized someone was standing just out of my periphery. I turned slightly and was forced to do a double take.
"Can I help you with something, Jared?" Mr. Forster inquired after noticing my seizing twitch of a glance. Jared was just standing behind me. Staring. Again. Maybe he had some kind of brain damage? I should've felt a little bad, then…
"No," he replied. "Sorry. I just figured it out. Thanks, though."
And with that he left the room.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2006, AFTERNOON
The only other indication that Jared made that he knew I was alive and not a piece of classroom furniture was to borrow my pencil. Everyday. I always wore my hair up and had the tendency to stick my writing implements in it. I'd been doing it for years, actually.
And everyday of that week – excepting the Wednesday when I was gone – Jared would reach forward and gently tug the pencil from my nest and whisper a 'thanks'. To which I could only nod.
And everyday of the week – excepting Wednesday when I was gone – Jared would gently replace it in the knot on my head a few moments before the bell rang. To which I could only attempt to maintain normal breathing patterns.
It was only in the afternoons, out of the haze of schoolwork, and in the comfort of editing processes, could I allow myself to think concretely and logically about Jared's new and odd behavior. He'd never paid me any mind in the past. I can't really say I was opposed to the new attention, at all, I was just seriously unused to it. That, coupled with his total shift in physical appearance this past month and a half, and it was throwing me for a loop.
So, I released the rest of my pent up Jared-related schizophrenia out on the Forks High gymnasium. Yep. I'm an athlete. Lacrosse is the only organized sport I partake in. I was groused into it by my mother years ago after I tried to dye my hair with household bleach and grape Kool-Aid. She insisted I needed to give up anarchist tendencies and get some discipline.
In the interest of full disclosure: I know nothing about politics, but I doubt I'm an anarchist.
In the end I opted for Lacrosse because it looked like I could do it. It was surprisingly a lot of fun. It was a new sport to the area and we combined forces with the Forks High women's lacrosse team and had a full roster with some spares. I played goalie - with my fast paced, spry movement, it only seems natural.
"Kim," Catie - another player from QTS - called as she jogged across the gym floor. "Are you okay? You just attacked that drill like your life depended on it..."
"Yeah," I huffed sweaty and out of breath. "No big deal."
"Except last Friday when you rolled over in the grass when Coach Carson mentioned the same drill?" she laughed. "I'm so sure."
I just grumbled and stuffed my mouth guard back in place.
Let me have my therapy, woman.
It was five thirty by the time we were bused back to QTS. It was October and still not terribly frigid outside. Normally I just made a mad dash to David's waiting car in my shorts, a sweatshirt and athletic sandals.
Today, as I hauled my butt, my bag and my gargantuan water bottle out of the school I was greeted by a wonderfully empty parking lot.
"What the..." I muttered. I checked my phone and realized that I was about five minutes late. Late enough for David to be here and still early enough for him not to have been fed up to the point where he'd leave me.
I had homework to do. More specifically, a project for my Film and Nature class that I needed to prep for if I wanted to start gathering footage tonight.
I flipped open my arcane cell phone and dialed his number. Voicemail. "Hi David, this the little sister you forgot you had? I'm waiting in the dark for you and I'm not too pleased about it. If any strangers in unmarked vans need help finding their puppy I'm going with."
I snapped my phone shut in an aggressive manner and trudged toward the street. I lived about ten minutes walking from QTS but I'll admit I was feeling a bit high maintenance and didn't want to walk home.
I'd only just hit the street when my phone buzzed with a text message.
ma's car died again. going to get her. get a ride? -D
I grumbled to myself as I responded and punched in a reply.
"i hate you, big brother of mine. fine. -K".
I could at least thank the gods that be that it wasn't raining quite yet. Nothing sucks more than walking home in the rain.
It was here that I heard a loud engine pull up beside me. It didn't keep driving past, in fact it slowed to my speed and when the window rolled down and the driver greeted me with a "Hey!" I jumped. I was sure I was going to experience some kind of karmic abduction thanks to the message I'd left David.
I turned to the sound, taking a step back off the road and almost slipping in the grass into the underbrush.
Jared.
What kind of alternate dimension was I living in? I couldn't help the small laugh that hiccupped through my chest.
"What's so funny?" he asked still continuing to go my walking speed.
"Nothing," I replied. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," he began, "I was driving back from Dowling's Garage in Forks, but I think the more apt question is what are you doing?" He glanced over me once taking in my lacrosse bag, my backpack and my less than ideally clothed form. The way he lingered over my legs made my stomach roll around.
When I didn't answer, he continued. "Hop in, I'll give you a ride."
Like I couldn't hoof it home myself? As if! I wasn't no damsel in distress. I snorted once and just picked up my pace. "No thanks," I muttered. I did have a tablespoon of self-respect and restraint left.
"Oh, come on Kim? I'm not going to let you walk home alone in the dark."
At this I halted my steps - the motion accompanied by Jared's squeaking brakes - and turned towards him. "Excuse me? You're not going to let me? Is that it?"
He read my tone well, thinking some caveman was ordering me around. "I didn't mean it like that, Kim," he sighed. "I just wanted to offer you a ride..."
"But you didn't offer," I countered. "You told me to get in your truck. I'm not so easy to abduct, you know. Nor am I a dog."
A booming laugh echoed out of his chest and I stumbled back into the pebbly grass at the sound.
"Okay, well I promise not abduct you. Or ask you to fetch. Will you please let me bring you home?"
I considered for a moment - my inner Jared-obsession clawing at the bars of my self-control like a rabid hyena. He seemed genuine but I had to be surprised by this sudden turn in behavior. "What spurred this on?" I asked.
"Well, primarily you're walking home alone and in the dark." I rolled my eyes, I was on a residential road and it was still twilight. If he let me on my way, I would be home before dark. "And I got to repay you for letting me borrow that pencil of yours."
And then without warning, that smile - Jared's smile - bloomed back to life on his face. I wasn't ready for it at all and it liquidated my kneecaps.
"Fine," I groused. "But only because I lent you a pencil," and because the thought of sitting next to you in an enclosed vehicle - able to breathe in your scent and feel your warmth - for any length of time makes my heart skip in fan-girly joy.
But I kept that last bit to myself.
I tossed my lacrosse bag into the bed of his truck, noted the drive shaft back there he must've just picked up in Forks and walked around and slid in the passenger door.
I was distinctly surprised by how neat it was in here. And clean. It smelled of car and pine tree air fresheners. "What are you looking for?" he asked. It wasn't accusatory, he actually sounded curious.
"It's really tidy in here. I didn't expect it."
"Not a neat nick?" he queried as he put the truck in gear.
"Ha!" I uttered a humorless laugh. "Not at all."
"You never struck me as being the color coding type."
I struck Jared a certain way? Since when? I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I mean, I was hopelessly in love with the guy, not stupid. I knew he barely registered my existence, whether from simple coincidence or not caring or being so deprived of ADD meds he couldn't even focus on an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants - it didn't matter. Where did he get off suddenly acting like he'd been carefully observing me? I would've noticed something like that!
"And what type do I strike you as, Jared?" I asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.
He looked over at me, not neglecting my tone. "A bit of a spitfire," he smiled.
I did not appreciate that. After so many years, I would've given an internal organ to be in this spot. But now? I was just... Angry. After so many years of this unrequited love, so many years of hoping he'd finally look back at me and now he had. And... What was wrong with me? Was it possible that I'd fallen out of love with Jared and hadn't noticed? I just maintained the creeper status because it was what I was used to for six years.
I still found him extremely physically attractive. I don't think anyone could deny that. The new stature wasn't so scary anymore and when he had his Jared face (not his Attila the Hun face) on, it was almost like nothing had changed.
But something had. I'm not sure what though.
"...Creative chaos."
"Huh?" I replied intelligently, missing his previous statement thanks to my quasi-non-revelation.
"You strike me as the type to embrace creative chaos," he answered simply.
"What do you mean?" I asked him to elaborate as the rain began a steady patter against his windshield.
"You always look kind of like you just came out of a whirlwind, but you're not a mess. You know where everything is, you're coherent and well put together. So... It's just part of you. You're like a hurricane."
I really couldn't help but stare bug eyed at Jared as I gripped the door handle, willing him to accelerate faster down my road. In fact, I think he might've been dragging this out.
I decided to change the course of conversation. "So since when do the La Push boys buy from Chet Dowling. He's only a grade above highway robbery."
Jared laughed once in appreciation of my observation. "Yeah. He is. I couldn't find what I needed on the res, I only had it delivered to Dowling's. The guy that drives the parts truck is a queen and won't navigate the gravel road our garage is on."
This was actually a pretty smart idea. I know David had a hard time getting the local parts guy to come down here on the rare occasions that a junkyard raid had yielded no decent results.
"I'm surprised Dowling let's you use his address. So, who's the part for?"
"What makes you think it's not mine?" I don't know why he challenged me. It's not like I'd made a polarizing statement. Just idly wondering. Small talk.
I turned around in my seat and looked back at the drive shaft in the bed of his truck. I turned back before speaking. "If it is, you seriously got conned. That drive shaft is for something a hell of a lot different than this beast you're driving. That's for a front-wheel drive," I jerked my thumb back.
"And since almost every car in the modern age is front-engine rear wheel drive, I'm assuming you're helping someone with their pre 1990 Ford Taurus or VW."
He looked at me, his stunned expression turning to one of appreciation. So I had been right: it was for someone else. I rolled my eyes. "Henry Ford would roll in his grave if he knew they started manufacturing front-wheel drive F-150s," I patted the dash of his truck. "You know," I said leaning against the door, "I do have a brother. I'm a girl, not stupid."
"You are a woman of many surprises, Kim Connweller." He wouldn't stop smiling after that. Was he proud that I knew my automotive parts? I didn't know a lot, but enough that I was able to make sure I knew what went where and when it wasn't the right part.
He finally pulled to a stop and I sprung from the car into the muddy driveway with a splat. "Thanks for the ride," I told him as I slammed the door – all too ready to be had of this ride home. The rain splattered up my calves and against my thighs as I leaned over the back quarter panel to grab my lacrosse bag.
I sloshed through the muck, up my stairs and into the house. Jared didn't leave until a few moments after I closed the door. I know, I watched.
"Kim, what the hell happened to you?" David was less than pleased by appearance when I entered the house. I glanced down at myself and can't say that I blamed him. I had mud all over my sandals and up to my knees, my sweatshirt and shaggy ponytail was soaked through and thanks to my semi-retarded sprint through the yard, I was breathing heavy.
Beam me up to The Betty Ford Clinic.
"Nothing," I replied. "Totally fine."
"Who'd you get a ride with?" he nodded towards the kitchen window with his chin. The window through which one had a crystal clear view of my driveway. And my aforementioned semi-retarded sprinting.
"Oh," my mouth fell open as I busied my hands with wrangling my hair. "Jared."
"Jared?" David sounded doubtful. He didn't know of my infatuation with the boy, but he did know our social spheres never came in contact. "What possessed him to do that? No offense."
"Yes, Jared," I mocked. "I lent him a pencil in class. He saw me walking home. Thought it was a good exchange. No offense taken. It was weird."
"Weird?" David leaned against the counter giving me the big brother stare. "Do I need to talk to this boy?" he asked like Jared wasn't a year younger than him and three inches taller. But, then again, I wasn't the only one who had noticed the changing behavior of some of our Quileute boys… The 'gang' as it was being called – Jared was one of them. No one on the res was quite sure what to make of it yet, but it probably wasn't something good.
"Nooo," I dragged out the syllable. "That's uncalled for. It was just... Unexpected."
I trudged down the hall to my room at the end and had - more or less - the same conversation with my mother. However, she didn't implicitly threaten to beat Jared up. Because she's classy like that.
I continued talking to her from my room. "Mum?" I said as I dumped my lacrosse equipment on the floor. "I'm gonna take a shower and do my homework. I've got a Film and Nature assignment, so I'm going to spend the night outside."
I didn't think she'd be necessarily opposed to it, but I didn't want to frame it as a question either.
"No way! Kim," she began her retort from the other room. I felt my shoulders slump and my eyes roll impulsively back in my head. Great, I thought, I am going to have to argue this with her. "Haven't you heard about all the missing hikers? Something's out there and I'd prefer you not go traipsing into the woods at night after it. Can't you do your project in the day time?"
"Mom..." I whined. "I want to do it at night. Everyone is doing a lame PBS-special daytime look at grasshoppers and local flora. I want to do night noises and environments. It so much cooler!"
"Yeah, those night noises and environments could get you killed. Chief Swan from Forks has been back and forth here all week. There's a contingent of men with hunting rifles in the forest, Kim! They're after bears!"
"Not at night there isn't!" I didn't know this but seriously doubted the area's only real cop was doing 24-hour shifts. "And I'm not going into the woods, Ma. I'm just going to set up my camera and sleep in a tent in the yard to make sure it doesn't get damaged. Okay? Can we compromise on that? Our woods in the backyard are as feral as a petting zoo."
There was a silence, in which I'm sure my mother was pondering my offer. I paused over my open dresser drawer, chomped down on my lower lip, hoping she'd give it the okay. I hoped she would; I didn't want to have to sneak out of the house.
"Fine," she acceded. "So long as you stay in the backyard."
"Yay!" I jumped up and skipped to the bathroom.
"Do you hear me, Kimberly Elizabeth? So help me God, you take one step out of that tent and towards those woods, I will have your head!"
"Yes mom," I replied before I slammed the door. I wouldn't put it past my mother to set up surveillance cameras on me. I kind of hoped she figured I had enough self-preservation not to go into the woods when something dangerous was out there.
