Chapter 2

Ok, let's get something straight.

No one in their right minds let their son do a runner and doesn't look for him! I mean, what kind of father does that? I fully support Charlie right now, but unless I sneak out in the middle of the night, there's no way I'm going to be able to stick any fliers up, and I know that as soon as Billy found out, they would all come down.

So basically, there seems to be little point in trying to find out where Jake's gone.

Wrong.

My brother. My business. End of.

There has to be someone who has the slightest inkling as to where he could have disappeared to. It's not like we live in the middle of nowhere… And yet, no one seems to know. Anything. At all.

Is this really how people behave around here? I think not; sure, I may not have been in La Push for a while, but it can't have changed that much. I asked Sue what she thought I could do the other day, and she didn't seem to know a thing. In fact, she actually said, "Don't worry Rachel, I'm sure he'll turn up soon. He can't have gone that far." I knew she was reassuring herself as well though. She seemed just as worried as me, only… it felt like there was a slight difference between what we were worrying about.

Ugh, my god. I can't… think. It's been almost three days since he's gone. Four days… the day after I met Paul. There's something strange about him, something different. He doesn't seem like other guys I know, like… I'm not sure, really. There's something unusual going on though and I'm going to have to find out soon, what's really happened, I mean. I've never seen people act like this before – it's if they're pretending nothing has happened. Maybe they think nothing has happened. Like they don't know. So no one knows he's gone… Just me, Dad, Sue and her kids, and a man named Sam. I've seen him come over here, and heard him and Dad talking. Maybe he thought I wasn't in, or he wasn't too worried about me overhearing. But when he saw me, the pair of them acted like they hadn't been talking about anything particularly important.

I only heard the end of the first conversation, and snippets of the second. The first time, I'd been to get more cereal and a few other groceries; there wasn't any left. All eaten. This was just after Jacob had disappeared. I'd walked up the driveway, unaware of anything out of the ordinary, lost in my thoughts. And I saw a t-shirt lying on the grass, completely soaked. I was fairly wet but I was also wearing a coat. So why would he leave a t-shirt? It's completely irrational, thinking about it now. People wear clothes outside, don't they? And you don't just leave something behind, discarded and forgotten. So I walked over to it and crouched down to pick it up. There could have been plenty of reasons it was there: maybe Jake had gone down to that monster shed of his, changed into a dry shirt and accidentally

There could be plenty of reasons it was there: maybe Jake had gone down to his shed, changed into a dry t-shirt and accidentally dropped this one on the way back. Or… I don't know. It can't have been dropped when one of us was getting the laundry in, because the line was on the porch, where the clothes wouldn't get wet if it started to rain a little, but… what other reasons are there? He had either taken it off or it had been dropped, and neither of explanation was very likely.

I tried to squeeze it out a little with one hand before giving it a vigorous shake, the other clutching a plastic bag with my shopping in. Water droplets flew everywhere and I clutched it in my fist as I walked back up to the house, managing to open the door and kick my shoes off just inside. Wandering through to the kitchen, however, I stopped abruptly finding my dad in his wheelchair besides two men, both with similar physical characteristics as Paul: tall, well-defined muscles, short, dark hair and brown eyes that glanced over at me as I was saying, "I got some fruit-loops, so don't…"

I trailed off, examining both men closely. One was slightly taller than the other, although both were unusually tall, and the shorter one had a slightly rounder face. He looked like he smiled a lot, though that smile wasn't present then, and his hair was slightly spiked from where he'd been running his hand through it. The taller man seemed older with more prominent cheekbones and a stronger jaw line. Something about him gave off an aura of authority that I'd never felt before. "Hello…" I murmured, looking down as I dropped the bag on the counter and pulled my hood down. They both greeted me back, looking sombre and slightly… sad. Something bad had happened. I didn't want to know what.

"Rachel, this is Sam Uley." My dad gestured to the older one. He was definitely over 6 feet tall, maybe 6'5'', 6'6'', somewhere around there. I felt like I'd heard his name before, maybe his surname. That stood out more for me, like it had been lingering in the back of my mind from a long time ago. "And this is Jared Cameron."

"Hi," I smiled weakly and bit my lips together. I felt awkward around them, it wasn't normal. Jared was a few inches shorter than Sam from where I was standing, and he had his arms crossed loosely, studying my face with a familiarity that suggested he'd seen me before. I wouldn't be surprised; I'd been into La Push for a walk around and to buy food several times in the past week, so he'd probably seen me from a distance. Jared smiled back at me, wider than I had and with a great deal more ease.

Sam held his hand out to shake mine and I raised my right hand automatically, but stopped when I realised that I was still holding the damp t-shirt. We all looked at it as I stretched it out and studied it mournfully. It was almost as if I knew what they were going to say – that my brother had done something, or something bad had happened to him.

"Rachel…" my dad began warily.

"I found it outside in the grass," I informed them before they had the chance to ask me where it came from. "Someone must have dropped it." Jake. Where was he? Why wasn't he here? He said he'd be here when I got back and we'd make lunch, meaning I cook, he eats. But he wasn't.

No one said anything for a few minutes as I shoved the t-shirt in the washing machine and shrugged my coat off, hanging it over the back of a chair. Billy and Sam were looking at each other, having a silent conversation. My dad finally nodded and looked over at me, his dark eyes sad and a little pained.

"Rachel–" he said again, but I cut him off quickly.

"Where's Jake?" I asked, arms creeping up to assume a guarded position and my face locked with a blank expression.

"Can we go into the living room?" Dad asked me, his voice weary as he wheeled himself towards me.

"Tell me what happened," I objected, shaking my head quickly. I refused to move as three pairs of eyes watched me, all concerned.

"Rachel." My dad's voice grew sterner and he looked up at me with a resolute stare, telling me that I wouldn't get far just standing there. My eyes narrowed and I folded my arms across my chest, finally turning on my heel and stalking out of the room. Dad followed behind until it was just the two of us, the two tall men standing alone in the kitchen. They hadn't made a sound since I'd walked through the door, and I got the feeling they weren't going to soon. They were more likely to leave before they said anything in my hearing range. Maybe the three of them were keeping something from me, possibly worse than I'd imagined so far.

Dad gestured towards the sofa and I sat reluctantly. This was bad. It's always something bad if he makes you sit down. There's never anything good. I opened my mouth to speak but Dad raised his hand, halting me immediately. I tried again, but a glance from him as he manoeuvred himself to the other side of the coffee table told me that my efforts were utterly pointless. I was not going to get a word edgeways in the next ten minutes. So I sat back, rubbing the nail on one finger with my opposing thumb pad as I watched him nervously.

"Before I tell you, promise me you won't overreact." His resolved stare made it impossible to pretend not to hear him. I would have to react somehow though, and depending on the situation, overreact had… different connotations.

"Sure, fine, I promise," I muttered, looking away from him. The momentary expression on his face told me he didn't fully believe me.

He grumbled in response and waited a few seconds before replying, most likely thinking about how to phrase his statement. "Rachel, Jacob has… decamped."

"Decamped?" Excuse me? Decamped: to leave abruptly or in secret.

"He's run off somewhere."

Much better.

"He's what?" That little piece of shit! The next time I see him… "I'm gonna kill that boy!" What was he even thinking? My knees jittered nervously before I impulsively stood and paced to the far wall and back again to the kitchen door. My vision blurred momentarily as my recognition of the situation set in; Jake had left. He upped and disappeared with no warning and seemingly no reason so far. Scanning the room for even a tiny clue as to why he would do that, my eyes instead landed up a tattered old book of mine which had been carelessly knocked to the floor. "Who–" I huffed. "Why would he…?"

I set the book down on the coffee table with shaky hands before my knees felt ready to go and I sank back onto the sofa, pulling my legs up as my dad, being the impartial observer that he is, just stayed where he was and sighed with an air of disappointment, listening to me mutter nonsense and profanities under my breath. He shook his head with a saddened expression before disappearing back into the kitchens, letting me listen in on his resumed conversation with Sam and Jared.

"She'll calm down soon," he said quietly.

"No I won't!" I cried, throwing my head back to stare at the blank ceiling. "And don't even think about saying the v-word!" Venting, my ass. I was long past venting. Venting implies that I have strong feelings that I wish to release onto something else, such as cooking something in order to channel anxiety. I wasn't venting; I was plain old furious.

The three of them left me in peace as I seethed silently on the couch. I was there for a long time, unaware of how much daylight had actually passed until Jared appeared in the doorway. He examined at me for a moment before walking over and sitting down on the far end of the sofa.

"How you feeling?" he asked softly, sending me a small smile. My head lolled forward and I glanced over at him, resting my chin on my knee.

I just let out a tiny puff of air and murmured, "Ok."

"I know it's a shock, but… Jacob's pretty good at looking after himself. He's gonna be fine, and he'll probably be back soon." My head nodded by the tiniest increment, unable to believe his reassuring tone. "How long have you been back in La Push?"

Didn't I answer that question yesterday? Oh no, I answered a similar question, although this one felt like a continuation despite it being Jared's obvious attempt to get my mind off this new development.

"Wow, only three days…" Jared said to himself, that eerie vibe that he knows me somehow simultaneously growing stronger.

"Have I met you before?" He shook his head and gave me a questioning look. "It's just… you keep giving me weird looks…" He looked momentarily confused.

"I am?"

"Just a little." He shrugged and rested his head back against the wall. We stayed like that for a little while as my dad and Sam continued to talk in the kitchen.

I exhaled loudly at the ceiling, looking for something interesting to study while waiting for Dad to come back in. Jared caught my eye again as I noticed him watching me, probably having been doing so covertly for a short time now. Not him too…

"By any chance, do you know…" I couldn't bring myself to say his name. The cloud I had been floating on since yesterday morning had been abruptly burst and I didn't want to dredge something up that could possibly make me feel worse than I did now. It would just remind me how crappy things in my life had become. "I met a guy yesterday on the beach, kinda big like you."

Damn him and his staring eyes! He just watched me, obviously amused that I wasn't able to say his name. I bet he knew who I was thinking of too. It would be just my luck. If he knew, others were bound to know too, because I knew for a fact that males in general found it almost impossible to keep secrets, for example, Quil and Embry. Oh Embry… it had been so long… I could easily wait a while longer though to be honest. And Quil… the last time I'd seen him, he had the sweetest little chubby cheeks.

"You know," I prompted, hoping he would be able to say the name for me. "He looks just a little like you? Tall, big muscles, walked around in shorts…"

"I have no idea who you're on about, Rachel," he smiled easily, showing off a straight set of teeth. Liar.

"Oh my god…" I grumbled, covering my eyes with my hand and rubbing them a little. "Paul? You know Paul? Freakishly tall, dark eyes, hair…" I drifted off into my memories about him, like I was seeing him all over again. "Kinda cocky too," I added, snapping back into reality.

"Cocky?" Jared repeated, chuckling quietly.

"Yeah, it's not always a good thing, believe it or not." Being overly confident was a huge turn-off for me. I couldn't stand guys who were arrogant about their appearance or intellect. They always ended up being jackasses.

"It's not?"

"No…"

"I'll pass that on," he assured me, leaning forward and nodding his head slightly. Lying little cheaters…

"Are you kid– I'm watching you…" I hissed, retreating into my shell and blocking my face, with the exception of my eyes and forehead, from view once again.

Enter Dad, pushed by Sam. Which reminded me once more that my brother had done a runner, and I had been sat here talking about a guy with another guy. An obviously heterosexual guy who knew the guy I had been rambling on about. And was most likely going to tell him what I had said, because guys can't keep secrets.

I made small grumbling noises and glared up at Jared, shaking my head almost inconspicuously, which he noticed and started laughing inwardly about. Men… You really cannot trust them to keep something private and not laugh about it afterwards. Serves me right for losing focus on the problem at hand, I must say.

The two of them left shortly afterwards and I was left alone with my father, which caused me to lock myself in my scarcely furnished bedroom for the remainder of the day, sans bathroom breaks and the occasional visit to the kitchen to fetch drinks and snacks. I left Billy to his own devices and refused the offer of dinner when he knocked on my door. In fact, I made sure he wouldn't have been able to open the door via my feet, pushing it away from me and into the doorframe. He gave up after ten minutes and informed me that if I was hungry, there was a plate in the fridge, ready for me to re-heat at my leisure.

I've been in here since then, not speaking directly to the only family member I have in close proximity, because he's being an idiot by refusing to participate in locating his only son and youngest child. I know this because Charlie dropped by the other day and tried to convince him with the fliers which resulted in a minor argument with Dad finally accepting a few fliers and then conclusively putting them in the trash, which I found late last night when I got a craving for hot chocolate and was throwing away an empty milk carton (real hot chocolate is made with milk, not water). They were already ruined by that time, with a few chunks of potato attached to the top few, so of course there are no salvageable fliers at my disposal.

I doubt I'm going to come out for a reasonable length of time in the foreseeable future, unless of course, Jacob does decide now would be a good time to come back home for me to strangle him. Unlikely, but I shall keep my hopes up, and maybe my willpower will be communicated to him and he will feel the need to return and meet his untimely demise. Ever the optimist.