I have to give it to the boy. He actually does know how to set the mood. Okay. Excuse me. That came out completely wrong. Now let's try this again.
Jacob Black, the sole annoyance of my life and the single person whom upon being called stupid would be an insult to stupid people, knows how to break through an icy conversation by saying the most off topic stuff that you can imagine. That must be the only thing he's good at, because, I mean, seriously! I've known SHEEP that could outwit him. Come on, people, I don't care if you're a Jacob fan and own twelve of those pretty much not selling at all because everybody likes Team Edward better Team Jacob shirts, you have to admit, what idiot would cling to a butter knife for dear life and so hard that he cut himself? Wait for it...wait for it...no one. Except for Jacob, also known as Mr. Apple Juice and now the love of my life. Excuse me. Please forget that the word "love" was ever in that last sentence. Instead, replace it with Number One Annoyance.
Anywho, this story isn't really about Jacob, even though a good part of it would have been missing without him. This is not exactly a love story; it's just a story about two boys and two girls, a tragedy, but, most importantly, it's a story about making up and learning how to live again.
Now that I've gone all Dr. Phil on you, let's actually get to the point here.
Sam and I and Jacob and the rest of the pack were in a clearing, having those little special meetings of Sam's that helps him organize his thoughts while making us believe that it's not actually a group therapy session when, in reality, it is. I mean, we've got Sam, who is just Sam-ish and never does anything in these meetings except stare blankly into space and nod or smile once in a while so that it looks as though he's paying attention when he's really not.
Then you've got me. No explanation required.
And then there's Jacob, whom a sheep could beat at a game of chess even though sheep don't have opposable thumbs, and who cut himself with a butter knife, and imprinted on a little bloodsucking leech, and...well, the list goes on.
There's also Quil, who's looking to be going on the path of completely moral wrong with a capital W. You know, on account of his whole "I'm gonna make Claire fall in love with me when she's old enough and is able to have babies and her hormones are running wild. Then I'll make her see just how want-able I am." Or, in regular people speak, when Claire is thirteen and a moody teenager, she'll definitely come running to me for self-assurance and then we'll have rolls in the hay and might have little werehuman babies! That would be so cool! It would be, like, a hybrid baby, like Renesmee!!
While the rest of the members in the pack are fairly normal, I think Quil's level of insanity more than compensates for the others' lack of.
Anyway, after Sam declared the session over, Jacob invited both me and him to his house to have some pie. What did I tell you? Jacob really knows how to rebuild something out of ashes with the simple distraction of an extremely trivial thing, such as pie.
And what happened at Jake's house helped me and Sam remember what it was like to have been together and what it was like to just be friends.
The PB&J was back. Plus apple juice.
