Yay! Chapter two. Now, I know what you're thinking...no Paul. Don't worry! There will be so much Paul in the next chapter you'll get sick of him, I promise. I just had to flesh out this chapter. Everyone wants a good first day at school, right? It's merely filler, but the next chapter will get better. Promise!

Love,

Angie Anonymous

TWO.

"Nayeli! Open the door! Come on, it's time to get up!"

Sam's booming voice entered the room from the other side of the thin, wooden door that I'd obviously forgotten to unlock. He took me by surprise, and I jumped out of bed, tripping over my own feet. I caught the door handle for balance and flicked the lock back, wrenching the door open.

My brother stood, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of camo shorts. He had beaten white tennis shoes on his feet, and was jingling a pair of car keys in my face. "Come on," Sam urged, pushing me back into my room, "get dressed. Emily's got breakfast on the table. We leave in a half hour." With that, he turned quickly on his heel, and thumped down the stairs.

I glared after him for a moment, before glancing at the digital clock on my bedside table. Seven thirty. I groaned, rubbing my hand over my eyes in hopes to wake myself up more.

I stumbled toward my drawers, pulling out a pair of light colored jeans. As I buttoned and zipped them, I realized that they were ripped in both knees and in various other places. Too tired to care, I glanced out the window next to my bed.

Raining. Again. Perfect.

I cranked it open, and icy air swept angrily in my face. I gasped and shoved the window closed again. Thermal today, I guess.

I meandered to the closet, applying mascara as I did so. I pulled out a plain red thermal, slipping it over my head. I then managed to slip on all six of my silver rings, and my leather bracelet, before threading a plain black studded belt through the loops on my pants. Shoving my feet into my shoes, I grabbed my bag and my hoodie, pushing my arms through it as I thundered down the stairs.

The whole affair had taken me around ten minutes. I was the master of getting ready quickly, but if I tried, I could take the longest time.

Sam was seated at the table, a monstrous plate of pancakes nearly hiding his face from me. He was chowing down ruthlessly, shoveling as much food into his mouth as he could. Emily greeted me with a quick kiss on the forehead. "How did you sleep?" she asked conversationally, placing a cracked white plate in front of me and ladling two fluffy waffles on it. I picked up a fork and began to eat. They were delicious.

"I slept okay, but then again, I rival the dead," I sighed, taking another bite. I could see why Sam was stuffing his face. Emily was an excellent cook.

Sam smiled at me from across the table, before he downed a whole glass of orange juice in one gulp. "We'd better get going, you don't want to be late," he said, seeming as excited as a five year old on Christmas. He obviously took after mom. I stood, touching both of my pockets, as I did every morning. Ipod in place, no cell phone to be found. "Oh!" I gasped, whirling around and leaping up the stairs. I gently pulled the white phone from the charger, making sure the ring was on vibrate, before shoving it into my empty hoodie pocket. Then I darted to the bathroom, and brushed my teeth quickly. I'd have to get up a bit earlier to put an end to all this rushing nonsense.

I vaulted -actually leaped, my feet not touching the wood- down the stairs, tucking my hair into the back of my hoodie and pulling my hood over the rest of it. "Okay, now I'm ready."

Emily's expression was amused as she pressed another kiss to my forehead. "Have fun at school," she said, before sweeping back to the stove to make more food. I hitched my bag up onto my shoulder, following Sam out the door.

Sam was already in the enormous Jeep Wrangler when I finally arrived at the passenger side door. The step to help midgets like me into the monstrosity came to my waist. I judged the distance from the ground to the seat, bending my knees resolutely. Taking a deep breath, I propelled myself from the ground to the beat up leather. My body landed long ways, my head facing Sam, and my legs dangling out the door. I quickly righted myself, tugging my bag against my side and placing my feet down on the floor. Flustered, I fixed my hair and then looked at Sam expectantly. "Let's get this show on the road."

He laughed once -a loud, barking sound- and inserted the keys into the ignition. The Jeep came to life with a roar to rival a tiger's angry squall, and Sam sped out of the slew of trees in a matter of seconds.

"Claire'll be waiting to show you around," Sam said, in an obvious attempt at idle chatter. I toyed with the strap of my bag. "How fun," I murmured sarcastically. I could feel Sam glance at me.

"Is there a reason for the 'tude?"

I turned my gaze to my older brother's entertained expression. "Well," I began, then dropped the sentence. Was there really a reason for it now? Mom was gone, and Sam hadn't done anything to provoke me, really. "I don't think there is, actually," I clarified slowly, toying with a tear in my hoodie sleeve, "sorry, Sam." His laughter filled the Jeep as he pulled into the school's parking lot, pressing his foot to the brakes. "It's okay. Here comes Claire. Have a good day at school, Nayeli, I'll be here afterward to pick you up." Sam wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him in an awkward 'brother/sister' moment hug, before I managed to open the door and slide out into the freezing morning.

A dark skinned girl nearly slammed into me full force. She had slightly darker skin than me, almost the same russet color as Sam's. She waved at him through the window, before he pealed away again, and disappeared onto the street.

"You must be Nayeli," she said fondly, offering me her hand. I looked up at her face for a moment -yes, up, because she was at least five-six to my five-two- and then gave her a reciprocating smile. I took her hand and shook it gently. "Yeah, you must be Claire?" It came out as more of a question, and Claire gave an answering nod.

Her bangs were cut clear across just below her eyebrows, the rest of her long, black hair pulled back by a plain, white headband. She had on a long sleeved white shirt, and a pair of black skinny jeans. White ballet flats donned her feet. Okay, so she wasn't nearly close to my style, but she seemed nice.

Claire hitched her bag further up on her shoulder, linking her arm with mine. "Everyone has been waiting for you to arrive," she said, her voice harboring just the right amount of cheeriness for me to be able to stand her, "Quil and the guys haven't shut up about it. Sam was so excited." She began to laugh, and I with her.

"Sam, excited?" I asked as she led me to the office to retrieve my schedule and locker number. Once I had the two separate sheets of paper clamped firmly in my hands, Claire led me out, into the bustling hallways. Everyone's eyes immediately trained on me; the new girl.

"Here's your locker," she suddenly announced, pulling us to a stop, My Converse squeaked wetly on the floor in reply. I began to fumble with the numbers as Claire jabbered on. Usually, I'd have zoned out by now, but oddly enough, I listened to every word my new friend said.

"Yeah, Sam was so excited, and Aunt Emily was happy to see him not so stoic about something. I mean, have you noticed that expression he always has on his face? Like nothing phases him." Claire was gesturing widely with her hands as she spoke, almost pummeling a few different students as she did so. I looked up from shoving my hoodie in my locker, expertly transferring my phone and iPod into one of the pockets of my bag. "No, I actually haven't noticed that," I mused, allowing Claire to snatch my schedule from me, "he's actually been smiling a lot since I got here last night"

Claire glanced up at me, her eyebrows knit together. "Hmm, well he must be happier than I thought. Oh look, we've got first, fifth, lunch, and eighth period together! Well that's good at least. Do you think you can find your way around? I could ask if I could escort you…."

She trailed off, looking up at me for confirmation. After a few minutes of convincing her that I wasn't an idiot and I could navigate the tiny high school properly, she grinned and tugged me away toward our first period; math. My worst subject. The very subject the teacher I'd threatened taught. Joy.

As we entered the bland, white room, each pair of eyes turned to me. Again. This was going to get annoying.

I felt the heat boil in my cheeks as I took the seat Mrs. Winthrop -an elderly looking woman with too much bright red lipstick- had pointed out to me; across the room from Claire, amidst a sea of dark-haired students I didn't know. Lovely.

Claire shot me an apologetic look as she took her own seat, watching intently as I sat down in mine. I mouthed her a quick, I'm fine, before a clearly male voice began to speak to me from my left.

"New girl?"

I turned quickly in my seat, my hair whipping around my face. His condescending tone had struck up another bout of anger. "Who wants to know?"

A smirk appeared on the dark skinned lad's face. "I'm Evan Hanson," he said, his eyes alight with curiosity. He had an air about him that screamed 'I-think-I'm-superior-to-you'. Oh, he'd just be a ball.

"Well, that's fantastic," I said icily, turning around in my seat again. Suddenly, Evan's hand gripped my forearm, forcing me to turn and face him again. His grip was tight as that stupid, ugly smirk appeared again. "Not so fast," he muttered, his voice low and husky. I inwardly groaned, my eyes flickering toward Claire, who was watching the exchange with her jaw hanging open.

I swept my eyes across Evan's face for the first time. His jaw wasn't as defined as Paul's, nor were his eyes the same coffee brown. His black hair was short, giving off the 'elegantly disheveled' look, carefully gelled into place. I immediately wanted to punch him, and slap myself for comparing him to Paul. Could my brain not leave him alone, not for one minute?

"What?" I hissed in a low voice, as Mrs. Winthrop began to prattle about last night's homework, which, of course, I wouldn't have. Evan's grip was becoming painful on my arm, so I wrenched it away quickly, almost punching the girl seated in front of me in the back of the head. Evan chuckled.

"Just wanted to get to know you, is that a crime?" His eyebrows raised suggestively. I nearly wretched.

"Bitch, you don't know crime," I grumbled, more to myself than to the over-confident twat beside me. Evan gave a knowing laugh. "Oh, c'mon," he whispered, leaning closer to me, his eyebrows still raised, "don't deny it. 'Easy' completely rolls off you in waves."

I stiffened suddenly, turning slowly, and completely, in my chair to face him. Did he just seriously say that to me? Did I really look easy, or was that just a jab at me because I wasn't immediately crushing on him? Must be a jab; I was the farthest thing from 'easy'.

Slowly and deliberately, I stood from my chair, straightening my thermal as I did. Evan gave me a confused look, then a hopeful spark flew across his eyes, like he was hoping I was going to jump his nasty bones right there. I smirked, before raising my fist, and swinging it through the air as hard as I could.

It connected painfully -for the both of us- with his nose.

Several surprised gasps rang out through the room, including a screech of "Nayeli!" from Claire, and Evan's roar of pain. Blood began to drip on his desk from both of his nostrils. I glared down at my already bruising knuckles, grimacing. Finally, Mrs. Winthrop noticed our little escapade.

"What is going on here?!" she gasped, her pudgy hand flying to her face. She rushed over to our congregation as quickly as her short legs allowed. "Oh my - why…what…to the office, Miss Uley!"

I rolled my eyes, picking up my bag, muttering how Evan was the biggest baby in history. I glanced over at Claire, who was staring at me with a look of respective appreciation and horror. "See you in fifth, Claire," I called merrily through the door as I skipped quickly down the halls and stairs.

The equally pudgy, Native American woman who manned the office, was waiting for me. She smirked as I entered (was that a habit of everyone in La Push? I mean really) and pointed me silently through another door, marked "Principal Reeder".

Reeder was dark skinned, just like everyone else, with a shock of black hair. He was surprisingly young, in his early forties, I guessed, with thick, black rimmed glasses. He had on a tan suit and a blue tie, and was watching me intently from over his spectacles.

"Good morning, Miss Uley," he said in a gruff voice as I closed the door behind me. Reeder motioned to the hard, wooden chair in front of his desk. I quickly planted myself in it. "Sup?" I asked, crossing my leg under my other and sitting on it. Reeder chose to disregard my question and get straight to the point.

"You punch a young" -he glanced down at a post-it note on his desk- "Mr. Hanson in the nose, not ten minutes ago, am I correct?"

"News travels past in these parts, aye?" I joked, leaning one elbow on the back of the chair. Principal Reeder did not look amused.

"May I inquire as to why?" he asked in that same, airy, gruff voice as before. I pulled all my hair over one shoulder, and began to sift through it, looking for split ends, nonchalantly. "He was annoying me."

"And because he was annoying you, you thought it prudent to punch him in the face?"

"Kind of."

Reeder sighed, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and other fingers. "We're not going to suspend you, Miss Uley," he said, heaving another resigned sigh.

Well, that was good.

"But we are going to have to telephone your brother immediately and inform him of your first slip-up."

I immediately froze, dropping my hair and leaning forward to grip the desk. "That won't be necessary, really, Principal Reeder," I said in a deliberately sweet voice, "I wouldn't want to trouble you. I'll just tell Sam when I get home, no big deal."

He didn't buy my ploy for a second. This Reeder was a smart cookie. Perhaps too smart.

"Not that I don't find you trustworthy, Nayeli," he said, grinning, "but I'd feel better if I got to speak to your brother." I groaned. Well, I was screwed. Boot camp it was.

Reeder picked up the black phone on his desk, sifting through a drawer. He pulled out the information card I guessed my mother had sent in to the school when I was enrolled. He dialed the numbers quickly, pausing. I heard the phone ring even from my place in the chair. A deep voice answered on the other line. The voice of my brother.

"Chief Uley?" Principal Reeder asked, his voice suddenly slightly submissive. I bit back a snort. Chief Uley? I heard Sam's reply from the other end; suspicious. Great. Oh, I was so murdered when I got home today.

"This is Principal Reeder, from La Push High. We have Nayeli here in the office…no, she's fine. No, sir, not sick. She, er," Reeder paused, glancing at me. I chewed the inside of my cheek. "She punched another student in the face today."

Sam's voice suddenly disappeared. I could almost feel the sigh he heaved. He began to speak again.

"Of course, sir," Reeder said quickly, then took the phone from his ear and held it out to me. Shit. Shit, shit. I was a goner.

I took the phone from Reeder's fingers, pressing it gingerly to my ear. "Hey, Sam, what's crackin'?"

"Nayeli Abigail Uley, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

He was doing his best not to shout, I could tell that much. He must be trying not to crack his aging kitchen phone in his enormous hand, as well.

"Well he was annoying me!" I cried back at him, planting both of my feet firmly on the floor. "That doesn't mean you have to punch him!" Sam yelled back. I heaved a sigh.

"We'll talk about this when you get home, young lady," Sam snarled, and promptly hung up on me.

"Sweet," I groused, shoving the phone back to Reeder and crossing my arms sourly. The Principal didn't look the least bit apologetic. A shrill bell rang.

"You should get to your second period, Nayeli," he said, picking up his glasses off of the desk and replacing them on the edge of his nose. It took all my self control not to push the infernal things farther up, where they belonged. "Have a nice day!" he called cheerfully as I darted out of his office and into the hallway.

Once again, everyone stared. Yeah, this was definitely old.

Second, third and fourth period went by without a hitch. Several people congratulated me on punching Evan, the rest glared at me venomously. Evan was obviously well-liked, though I couldn't see why.

As I entered fifth period, I was ambushed by a wild mane of silky, black hair.

"Claire!" I huffed as she grabbed my arm and tugged me into the library, where our study-hall was to take place. She sat us down at a small, empty table, watching me with interested eyes. "So, how bad was it? Did you get suspended?" she blurted, throwing both of our bags on the table top. I shook my head.

"Naw, I didn't get suspended," I said, glancing down at my nails, "but they called Sam and told him. He's really pissed at me." Claire groaned sympathetically.

"Sam won't be too hard on you, I don't think," she said, pulling out a notebook and beginning to start on the math homework I'd obviously missed. I pulled out my own and began to work alongside her; Claire helping me when I needed it, which was often. We shared a comfortable silence most of the time, when she wasn't launching into random stories about the guys and Quil.

"You seem really infatuated with that Quil," I said kindly, as we both closed our notebooks and replaced them in our bags. Claire leaned her head on her open palm dreamily. "Yeah, he's great," she sighed, a glazed look overtaking her eyes. I corked an eyebrow. "Are you guys, like, dating?" I asked, spinning my thumb ring around repeatedly. Claire nodded.

"But isn't he, like…old?" I asked in surprise, then I quickly shut my gaping mouth. "I mean…not that I have a problem with it, or anything," I quickly backtracked, and Claire smiled. "Yeah, he's-" she stopped speaking, biting her lip, glancing around awkwardly, "-yeah." Claire finished lamely, still gnawing at her lip. "You are a strange girl, Claire," I joked, shoving her playfully as the same shrill bell tolled, signaling lunch. Claire grabbed my arm and yanked me up from my seat, barely giving me leeway to snatch my bag before she jogged us both excitedly toward the cafeteria.

Much to my disappointment, a hush didn't fall over the crowd as Claire and I entered the room. Not that I wanted everyone to be talking about me -that was exactly the last thing that I wanted- I just wondered if everyone would know about it by now. Of course, I already knew they did.

Claire pulled me into line, picking us both sickly-green trays. I glanced at the lunch being served; chicken patty. It looked more like rubber. Claire quickly filled her plate with one, though, but I refused the disgusting school lunch offered to me. Instead, I picked up a small bag of chips and a Pepsi, paid, and followed Claire to the table she'd selected.

"Where's your lunch?" She asked as we sat, "that can't be all you're eating." I shrugged. "It's all I ever eat for lunch at school. I'm a vegetarian." I took a bite of a chip, as if to prove my point. Claire raised her eyebrows for a moment, before nodding. "Well that's cool. Sorry for eating this chicken in front of you."

I just laughed and motioned her on. "Go ahead, I'm not like an activist or anything, I just never liked the taste of meat much." Claire gave a small grin and took a hearty bite of her sandwich.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. After lunch, Claire walked me to my sixth period art class. It was cluttered and bright inside the room. The teacher seemed very…eccentric, to say the least. She was middle aged, with a few wrinkles donning her face, and striking red hair. Her purple scarf and pink Capri pants clashed horribly with it. I sat alone for a matter of moments, reveling in the silence, before the two empty stools were taken up by a blonde girl and another dark skinned one. They introduced themselves as Melanie and Annie, friend's of Claire's. The two seemed nice enough, and we got along fine.

History and Gym went by slowly. History was one of my favorite classes, and the only class where the teacher made me stand in front and introduce myself. Also, the only other class I shared with Evan Hanson.

The boy glared evilly at me the whole time, to which I threw him an extremely cheery grin before skipping out of the room light-heartedly.

Gym, by far, was the best. The teacher, who requested that I call him 'Coach', made us run laps around the gym, which was fine with me, seeing as I loved running. Back in LA, I'd been on the track team.

As I changed from my gym uniform back into my original outfit, dread slowly trickled through my veins. In a few minutes, I'd have to face Sam. He'd eat me. I know he would. He sure as hell could manage it, how gigantic he is.

The bell rang. I. Was. So. Screwed.

Picking up my bag, I slid my feet into my zebra-striped Converse, and trudged slowly out of the locker-room.

Claire was waiting just inside the doors to the school, a sympathetic look on her face. "Aunt Emily is here to take us home," she said, linking my arm with hers once again and leading me out into the rain. "Are you coming to their house?" I asked, hopeful that maybe it'd save me from Sam's wrath. She shook her head, sighing apologetically. "I wish I could, but I'm supposed to go home today. My sister is sick, and I've got to take care of her, apparently." Claire shuddered, climbing into the green minivan. I gritted my teeth and hopped into the front seat. Emily gave me a small smile.

"Hi, girls," she said happily, leaning back to kiss Claire and me on our foreheads, before pulling out of the lot. "Nayeli, how was your first day? Other than punching someone, I mean." Emily glanced down at my severely bruised, swollen hand. She clucked her tongue, but said nothing about it when she saw my scowl.

"It was okay, I guess. I didn't get suspended, and after the whole punching incident I didn't cause any more trouble." Emily and Claire both laughed.

A few moments later, Emily stopped the car at one of the small houses on the main road. "Tell Kara I said feel better, Claire!" Emily called as her niece gathered her things and jumped out of the open door. "Will do! Oh, and Nay, I'll text you later. Bye guys!" Claire called cheerily as Emily pressed a button, and the minivan door slid shut.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, before Emily spoke.

"So, what exactly did this boy do?"

I sighed, pulling my feet up onto the seat as Emily pulled out onto the road again. I contemplated lying, but decided that I trusted Emily enough to tell her the whole truth. "He called me easy," I explained, and her eyes widened. "Well, I'd have punched him too," she grumbled, as she turned on to the now puddle-ridden dirt drive leading to the trees.

A chill ran down my spine as I leaped out of the car, pulling my bag with me. Emily and I raced to the porch, trying to stay as dry as possible.

Sam was waiting when the door opened. Emily quickly bailed to the living room.

His expression was livid. I dropped my bag near the table, pulling my hoodie off to place it on top. I let out a dull 'uhh' before Sam began to yell.

"What the hell were you thinking?! You could have gotten yourself suspended, expelled, even! Then what would have happened, huh? You need to wise up!"

I folded my arms resolutely across my chest, jutting my chin forward childishly. "Oh please, it was only my first offense! No one gets expelled on their first offense, Sam, it's like, the law of the world!" I knew I wasn't helping myself with that argument, but it was true. It had always taken me at least two or three slip-ups to get kicked out of a school, and I was a pro. Sam growled. Yes, he actually growled at me.

"There is nothing funny about this, Nayeli. Do you know what people would say? I won't have you acting like this, not while you're under my roof!"

Finally, all the anger I'd been hoarding exploded in my stomach like a freshly trodden upon land mine. That, mixed with the fear, rejection, and sadness all welled over into rage-induced tears. And I never cried.

"Send me away, then!" I screamed, balling my hands into fists at my sides and suppressing a wince as my bruised hand throbbed. "Send me away like all the others did. Give up on me, Sam, go ahead! You know you want to!" My last sentence came out as kind of a mangled sob. Embarrassed, I covered my face in both of my hands, wishing he'd just walk away so I could slink up to my room, unnoticed.

But suddenly, his gigantic, warm arms wrapped tightly around my back, pulling me to him. My face was crushed to his chest in a sibling-ish way, briefly, before he placed his searing hands on my shoulders and held me at arm's length, looking down at me.

"I am never going to give up on you," he said, as if I had offended him, "you are my sister. Even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to send you away." I caught the double meaning; there was something Sam wasn't telling me.

"What the hell is going on here, anyway?" I asked suddenly, as Sam released my shoulders. He looked confused, then comprehension took over his expression, our previous discussion forgotten.

"I don't know what you mean," he mumbled, turning away and beginning to stride toward the living room. I followed, determined. "Hey! Hey, you big idiot, don't you walk away from me! Tell me what's going on! There's something everyone's hiding from me, and I want to know what it is!"

Sam suddenly stopped, and I ran smack-dab into his broad back. I let out a muffled 'oof' as I began to fall backward. Sam reached around to steady me with the strangest, torn look on his face.

"Sam, tell her. She deserves to know," Emily said quietly from her seat on the couch, motioning for me to sit beside her. I quickly obliged, folding my legs underneath me and watching Sam expectantly. He still looked torn, but finally, after a long moment, he turned to face me.

"Did Mom ever tell you the old Quileute legends?" he asked, and I nodded, silently wondering what that had to do with anything. I decided to voice my query.

"Yeah. Werewolves, vampires, all that junk. What does that have to do with anything?"

Sam watched me with a carefully serene face, the one Claire had informed me of earlier in the day.

"Nayeli, those legends are true. I'm a werewolf."