Embry POV
Trace a continuum from the early civilizations in the Middle East, through the Graeco-Roman world to the development of the medieval European, Byzantine and Islamic ecumene. What were the elements of change? What were the dynamics of cultural diffusion? What can be identified as key events/turning points?
Who in the bloody hell cares?
Fed up, I snapped the Modern World textbook shut and shoved it off the bed, where it landed with a muffled thump on a pile of dirty clothes. I balled my hands into fists and pressed them to my forehead, already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.
Good God. And it was only 7:30 in the morning.
Speaking of which—shit. I was supposed to have left five minutes ago.
I grabbed a shirt off of the pile on the floor reserved for school—hopefully relatively decent-smelling and blood free, and slapped some water on my face from the rusty sink. Breakfast was the stale crumbs at the bottom of a Pringles can. It occurred to me that I should probably buy some food or something—oh, wait. I'm broke.
My mood was foul, and I knew it. It was all because of that damn party Friday night. Maybe not so much the party, but the girl.
Why couldn't I stop thinking about her?
I picked up my backpack by its broken straps and shoved open the door. The frigid wind was like a slap to the face compared to the interior of the warm little cabin. All the animals that knew what were good for them were either hibernating or cooped up underground, braving out the last legs of winter, leaving the forest eerily grey and quiet. I wished I could do the same.
My Chrysler was waiting for me right outside the door, free from the auto-body shop in exchange for six months of work. I didn't think it was worth it—putting up with Jake and the smell of cigarettes and no central heating or AC for half a year should have gotten me more than a shitty piece of 1980's metal. Jared said that it looked like a girl's car.
Whatever.
I tried to start the car, tried to start the car again, actually started the car, turned on the radio, and then had to turn it back off to jump out and retrieve my Modern World Textbook.
And then I was off. To high school. The only thing I hated more than vampires.
I was tired. I had taken triple patrol last night, for both Jacob and Jared, and the three hours of sleep I had gotten weren't enough to erase the exhaustion in my muscles. I don't even remember what their excuse was this time—though chances were is was to be with Renesmee and Kim. For that matter, I don't remember why I always agreed to do the extra hours, because I would end up regretting it the morning after. I guess it wasn't like I had anything better to do. Except sleep.
As I reversed out of the forest along a rutted road, I felt a familiar heaviness in my chest. Here I was, werewolf, an eighteen (give or take) year old guy, and my life was already stuck like a stick in mud. Go to school. Pretend you care about the girls and parties all of your friends care about. Get drunk, run yourself to the ground at night, sleep for five minutes, slave by the light of your crappy cell-phone to do homework, and then start the whole process all over again.
All the other guys questioned why I still went to school. Brady and Colin were freshmen, and Seth had finished high school and gone to college already with his girlfriend- a year earlier than me even though he was younger, because I had dropped out for a year after I first phased. Other than that, most of the guys had yet to finish their high school education, and they questioned why I didn't just stop showing up like they had.
The answer: I wanted to go to college, too. Be an engineer. Something like that. If anything: get the hell out of this God-forsaken town.
I knew it was stupid, and that it probably wouldn't happen. But lately, after my mom kicked me out, I became the last non-imprinted guy in the pack, and Allie-the-bitch broke up with me, going to college was the only thing that I had to look forward to. That, and the twins.
This particular morning, however, as misty rain droplets blurred everything around me into a green rush and My Chemical Romance played on the radio, I was able to push all of that out of my mind.
The party was like any other.
It was hosted in a house located in one of the new suburban, cookie-cutter mansions built a couple miles from downtown. Drugs, beer, and people having sex in the bathroom. Simon was upstairs, Chase was high, and Jordan was making out with his girlfriend. I was tired of being hit on, and had retreated to the relative peace of the basement.
It wasn't that I didn't enjoy the attention from the girls. They were…fun, I guess. But they were all the same. Laugh and touch my arm. Get drunk and touch my chest. Prom, our football team, how it might actually be sunny next weekend, even though it never is. Kissing one girl might as well be the same as kissing the next. I usually knew the names of the girls who I actually screwed around with, but they were nothing but placeholders. Or days of the week. Monday was Lara, Tuesday was Heather...
Lately, the monotony had been getting too much. Hooking up with no emotional connection was most of my friends' goal in life, but it has started to become...boring.
The guys in the pack were really starting to worry about me.
Quil asked, if that was the problem, then why didn't I try to get to know them better? Make conversation? And the answer was that I had tried that. But there always came a point in time where the girl would be talking and talking and I would be nodding and I'd come to realize that I just really, really didn't care about what they were talking about. At all.
But then, last Friday, she happened.
The most frustrating thing is that, for some reason, I don't even fully remember what happened. Or for that matter, why the hell I can't get her out of my head.
I was drunk, I know that much. Piss-ass hammered. I could hear the police come in upstairs long before anybody else in that basement could, but I wasn't particularly worried. I could pass for twenty-five, easy, much less twenty-one.
There's somebody at my side. A girl. She's probably telling me to get the hell out of the way so she can escape out the basement door, but I'm far too preoccupied with the vague glowing in my chest and the fact that I can't look away from her. I don't remember the color of her eyes, her hair, or what she was wearing, though it couldn't have been all that much. All I remember is the striking image of her profile, dark against the brightness of the police's flashlight. She has a tiny, turned up nose, and her eyelashes are fluttering as she looks away from me in a way that makes me know she's scared.
And then everything fast forwards. I remember feeling dizzy as it all abruptly comes back into focus when she shoves past me, as if the alcohol was dissolving right out of my bloodstream.
There's another image. More distinct than the first, then the glimpse of her profile. It was as if all the lights were off and they flashed on once for less than a second- and in that second was captured an image of her, burned into my brain.
Her skin, honey-pale in the light of the streetlamp. She's tall and thin and made up of sharp angles from the shadows that are being cast on her. Legs-long, long, long, thin and graceful, like a ballerina or something. Her face is turned away from me, and she's clutching something in one hand-shoes? That would make sense, because she's barefoot.
Clear as a picture. I would draw it, if I could draw for shit.
My last memory is of standing in the street alone, watching her as she runs away from me, the white soles of her feet flashing as they churn out the pavement underneath her.
When I phased, the guys had all agreed that I hadn't imprinted. They said it felt different than that. Stronger. Somebody had probably just spiked the beer or something, and that was why I couldn't stop thinking that she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. To be honest, the thought of imprinting on one of them, one of the made-from-a-mold party girls that went to our school, was kind of depressing.
I had felt restless all weekend, annoyed and angry for no reason. I couldn't help but think...
No. No more thinking. School wasn't the place for that. As I pulled into the parking lot, taking my traditional spot as far away as possible from the front building, I resolved to let it go. I was confident that I'd never seen her before, so that pretty much meant she was from out of town. I'd probably never see her again in my life.
An abrupt rush of panic flooded my chest, which made absolutely no sense.
I slammed the car door shut and ran a hand through my hair. I remembered Jacob's voice from yesterday as I recounted everything, as he rolled his eyes and ran his hands through Nessie's hair as they lay out on the beach. "For God's sake, Embry. Just let her go. It doesn't mean anything."
Let her go.
Easier said than done.
Okay, so I said that I wasn't going to update until Sunday... But I just couldn't wait that long, thanks to my impatient nature and Athena'sOwl! Your reviews were all so wonderful and supportive, I can't thank you enough!
All right, two things that I want to know to improve the pleasure of your reading experience:
1. Now that you've had both POVs, who do you like the most? Calla's a bit easier to write, just because, seeing as I ama teenage girl, it's easier to write about a teenage girl, than, you know. A man.
2. Is anybody very easily offended by cussing? Because Calla certainly isn't, and I wouldn't want any of you to get mad and leave or something...
I've pretty much fed my whole updating schedule to the foxes (on the second chapter, too-maybe that's why I'm so bad at scheduling...), so just expect the next chapter within the next couple of days! :D Love you guys!
