Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, have no wish to own Twilight, and do not profit monetarily from writing this fanfiction.


09 – UNFORTUNATELY FAMILIAR BURNING – 09

Sunday is pretty uneventful. My mom is home before noon, just like I said she would be. I know because she wakes me up from where I've fallen asleep in front of the TV after watching one of Jared's DVDs.

Still tired, I sleepily clean up, turn off the TV and then head back to bed to get rest for a couple more hours. When I finally rejoin the world, it's about 1pm.

I take a shower and then join my mom downstairs, settling back on the couch with her.

"Hey sleepyhead," she says, tousling my hair with one hand while she changes the channel on the TV with the other.

"Mom," I whine, attempting to smooth my hair back down. She smiles.

"How was your weekend? I see from this pile of movies that you didn't spend it alone," she says, suggestively.

I shake my head and blush. "It's not what you think. He came over, but had to go to work suddenly."

"Mmhmm," she continues to smile knowingly.

"Mom, seriously," I say, exasperated.

"Okay, okay. Is he coming back over today?" she asks.

I shrug. "I don't know."

He's supposed to, I think. To bring back my – I mean, our – project.

She seems to pick up on the fact that I'm not overjoyed to talk about Jared at the moment. There is a moment of silence before she continues.

"I had an interesting night," she says, a note in her voice that makes me look up.

I raise my eyebrows. "Did you?"

"I did. I thought it was supposed to be a girls' night out, but the waitress I told you about – Michelle – ended up bringing her boyfriend, well… fiancée… and one of his friends."

"Wait, it was a double date?" I ask, catching on quickly. "She ambushed you?"

It is a well-known fact in my mom's circle of friends that she does not date. She swears she has no time for 'silly things like love' but she's the world's biggest romantic. She's also a workaholic, though, and those two things don't exactly go hand-in-hand.

"She did! And worse than that, they left me with the guy… alone!"

She looks so indignant that I can't help but laugh.

"It's not funny, Kim," she says, but I note the twinkle in her eye and it's not hard to see that she's not all that upset about it.

"What was his name? What does he look like?" I ask.

"His name is Jeremy. He has blue eyes, a killer smile, and washboard abs."

"Ew," I say. Sometimes I swear my mom forgets that we are not just friends, but that I am her daughter, too. She swats at me.

"Are you going to date him?" I ask.

She shrugs, much like I had done earlier. "I don't know. I don't really have time for all that. He seems nice, but…" She shrugs again.

Silently, I finish the sentence for her. 'He seems nice, but he's not your father.' My heart breaks a little for my mom, though to be honest, I never quite knew what she saw in my dad. He wasn't the best looking guy, he wasn't particularly nice to her, and he left us without looking back. I hardly ever talked to him – I don't think he's called me in about two months and that's not an exaggeration. And yet, in spite of all of that, he is and probably always will be the love of my mom's life. I guess people really can't help who they love.

Since I rarely get Sundays off, I spend a few hours with my mom watching two more of Jared's movies and trying not to think about Jared, or how confused I am by what he makes me feel.

When my mom leaves me to take a nap, I head up to my room and open my journal to jot down some thoughts. This turns into a serious writing session and before I know it, it's already 5pm. I head down to the kitchen, heat up some ramen noodles, then back up to my room to play the Sims.

I feel uneasy and restless, like I should be doing something. I have half a mind to do the project anyway, but if I show up with a finished project alongside Jared's finished project that won't only make us look bad in front of the class, but it'll also potentially hurt Jared's feelings. I sigh. I don't know why I'm feeling less than trusting towards him.

Maybe because he hasn't devoted more than five minutes to the project since we received instructions for the assignment, I answer myself. But just because he hasn't done anything yet doesn't mean he won't. He said to trust him, so that's what I should be doing, right? Jared wouldn't just not do the project, especially when it's my grade on the line, too. For all I know, he could be doing it right now. Or, it could be done already.

I hate that I'm trying so hard to convince myself. Still, as the time slips away, I can't help these thoughts from invading. I have one eye on the clock and the other on the – open – window, shivering –


- shivering wakes me up.

Slowly, I blink as my bleary eyes focus on the alarm clock. I gasp as I catch sight of the time. It's 10:45. I'm 45 minutes late for class!

I jump up and quickly get dressed. I must have forgotten to set my alarm clock, figuring Jared would wake me up when he got here. But… I look around my room… apparently Jared never showed.

I slam my window shut, an anxious feeling twisting my stomach in knots.

I race downstairs and out the door, praying feverishly that Jared is at school and he has the project and that I'm not going to show up looking like an idiot.

I jump on my bike, pedaling furiously, and make it to school no later than 11:05. I race past Jared's mom in the front hall. She merely smiles and pointedly looks at the clock. I blush and continue to the classroom, my heart hammering.

More dramatically than I planned, I swing the door to the classroom open, causing everyone to stop what they are doing.

All it takes is one sweep of the room to see that Jared isn't here. My heart sinks and all the blood rushes to my face again.

"Hello, Kimberly. Please take a seat, so that we can continue with the presentations," Mrs. Najera says.

I think she says something about me going next, but my heart is pounding so loudly that I don't really hear her. Where is Jared? I wonder, as I somehow make my way to my seat. Now I'm wishing I had just stayed in bed.

Utterly distracted, I don't even hear the rest of the students present and it seems like it takes less than ten minutes combined for each group to take their turn.

"Well… Jared's not here," Mrs. Najera says, turning to me. "Will you be presenting alone?"

I just stare at her, at a loss for words. She can't possibly expect me to present a project I don't even have.

"I… J-J-Jared has… " I start stammering.

She just continues to look at me expectantly.

Mortified, I feel that unfortunately familiar burning behind my eyes that means I'm about to cry… in front of everyone. I try desperately to blink back the tears.

"I-I d-d-don't have it… Jared – he – he has it," I manage to whisper as a lone tear slides down my cheek, betraying me.

"I see. Well, as Jared didn't show up, you know it reflects badly on both of you," she says, not unkindly. "That's one letter grade down for every day that you're late. I'll expect both of you or one of you to be here and ready to present tomorrow."

I stare at the desk, wishing she would stop looking at me, as more tears drip down my cheeks.

Humiliated doesn't even begin to explain how I feel –


- feel utterly betrayed, but even more than that, I feel angry. I don't even feel completely angry at Jared, not as much as I feel with myself. I let him distract me, but worse, I trusted him to uphold his end of the bargain when I should've just done it myself like I was going to in the first place.

After the worst day in summer school so far, I jump on my bike and push myself for the long ride I take clear across the rez to Jared's house. He owes me an explanation.

For all the building up I do, my resolve falters when I actually reach his house and see his truck in the driveway.

What am I going to do? Yell at him? I think to myself. I don't see another car here, but what if his mom is here. She doesn't have a car, but she certainly wasn't in the front hall of the school when I left.

Maybe… in retrospect… I should have just called him?

Even so, I walk my bike around to the back of the house, remembering that Jared has his own entrance and exit. It wouldn't hurt to just see if he's home. I run my hand through my hair nervously as I approach the entrance to the basement. It's entirely possible he has a really, really good excuse for not showing up to school.

I take a deep breath then knock lightly on the door. I wait for a total of five seconds.

"Okay, he's not home," I say to myself quietly then I turn towards where I left my bike leaning against the wall of his house.

My heart drops to my feet as I hear the backdoor open behind me.

"Kimberly?" Jared asks incredulously.

I turn around, heart pounding once more to see him standing in front of me, looking like he's just woken up.

"Oh…" I say, my voice suddenly gone.

He seems unaware that he's dressed in only boxers. There are bags under sleepily blinking eyes that I try to concentrate on so as to avoid looking elsewhere. It's really not fair the way he's able to demand my focus.

He looks confused, but pleased too, for some reason. "What are you doing here?" he asks happily.

I just continue to stare at him.

"Do you want to come in?" he continues hopefully.

Absolutely not, I think to myself, but don't say aloud. I don't budge from where I'm standing.

"Kimberly…?" He looks a little more awake now, his expression laced with concern.

Anger, remember? I'm angry with him. He left me looking like a moron today. If anyone else had left me like that, I wouldn't be standing here just staring. I need to speak up, I need to say something. I need to have more self-respect than –

"Where were you?" I burst out, interrupting my own thoughts and finding my voice again.

He looks at me, confused. Does he honestly not remember?

"You said… you s-said you would have the project… " I falter, feeling my face grow warm. Once again, I feel that burning behind my eyes. I throw a quick glance at my bike. I should just take it and run, I think. Abort mission.

"The proj – " he starts to say, then stops suddenly, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Oh. Oh! Oh shit."

I wipe my eyes quickly. I should not be crying. I am totally not at fault here.

"Kimberly, I am so sorry," he says and suddenly he's in front of me. "I completely forgot. I am the worst boyfriend ever. And the worst partner ever. Wow, damn, I'm sorry."

Something tightens in my throat, making it difficult to speak.

"Can you forgive me?" he asks. "What can I do to make it up to you? Should I… fuck, I can do the project now. Should I just do it? Oh… but… um, I kind of have to work tonight, too."

Seriously? I stare at him in disbelief. This is ridiculous.

"What did Mrs. Najera say?" he asks, wincing, as if anything she had to say is somehow worse than how I feel right now.

At that, the anger rises up within me again and I find my voice. "She said," I say, tightly, "that even if one of us presents the project tomorrow, it still drops an entire letter grade."

"Oh."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. "Can I have the notes please?" I hold my hand out rigidly, as if the notes will somehow materialize in his hands.

"Kimberly, I can do the project," he says, softly. "I can. I'll just tell Sam I can't work tonight – "

"I'd rather just do it myself. That way I know it'll get done," I interrupt him, knowing the words will sting. His expression completely changes and for a second I regret it... until I remember what he put me through.

"Okay," he says, after a moment. "I'll… um… I'll be right back." He disappears into the basement and I ready my bike so that I can take off the minute the notes are in my shaking hands. I'm trembling like a leaf and I hope he doesn't notice.

To be honest, any kind of confrontation makes me feel sick to my stomach.

He's back in a flash. "Here's everything," he says, softly. I don't make eye contact with him.

"Thank you," I practically whisper. I stuff the papers quickly into my backpack, then without looking up – and feeling terrible – I jump onto my bike and pedal without looking back –


- back home in record time.

Thankfully my mother isn't home yet because all it would take for me to fall apart is for her to look at me. I'm not ready to have another Jared conversation with her just now.

I hightail it to my room and close my door, resolving to put everything out of my mind until this stupid project is done. My eyes betray me and wander to the window. I cross the room, doublecheck to make sure the window is secure, and close the blinds too for good measure. I don't know if Jared would attempt to climb without my permission, but I can't be too careful.

I turn on my radio and settle into a comfortable position. I'm going to be here for a while -


- while later that I can no longer ignore the pangs of my hungry stomach. I hate stopping when I'm on a roll like this, but it is not worth starving to death either.

Sighing, I leave the confines of my room and make my way downstairs.

"Mom?" I call out, but I receive no answer. I get to the living room and peek out of the window. Car gone. Guess she's working the late shift tonight.

I pull out my cell and send her a text message anyway just to make sure she's okay. It's already 45 minutes until 10pm, so I am relieved when she texts me back almost immediately.

Sorry! Late shift. Home by 11.

I quickly make myself a sandwich and retreat back to my room. If I continue at this pace - and force thoughts of Jared out of my mind - I can probably be done by 11. Hopefully. Maybe. I let out an audible sigh as I get back to work -


- work much later than 11 because I didn't complete my project until about 11:45 last night and although I pretty much collapsed after that, I never heard her come in.

"Mom?" I call, toothbrush in one hand and knocking on her bedroom door lightly. No answer.

I turn the knob and slowly push the door open. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shake my head as I close the door. She's here all right, knocked out and snoring so loudly I am mildly surprised I can't hear her through the door.

Returning to my morning routine, I get dressed slowly, trying to drag it out as long as possible. My nerves are starting to get to me now. I was cold to Jared yesterday, not saying that he didn't deserve it, but it is definitely going to be awkward having to see each other in class. Not to mention, we are going to have to present our project together as if we actually worked on it together.

I groan. Nobody else will care, but Mrs. Najera is not stupid. I am positive she will be able to tell right away that Jared did absolutely nothing on this project, no matter how much help I give him.

And just that thought makes me upset for several reasons. First of all, I shouldn't help him, or rather, I shouldn't want to help him, but I can't even imagine inflicting any kind of embarrassment like the embarrassment I felt yesterday on anyone else. Although Kim, I think, he probably really, really deserves it. But secondly, and this is kind of selfish, we are partners and I don't want our team to look bad. If Jared was on his own, I probably wouldn't mind him looking bad all by himself. Much.

But then, I groan silently again, I'd probably want to help him anyways because I'm such a 'kind-hearted soul' as my mom would say. Uh huh, right. Jamie would call me a wimp. Ugh, he is my boyfriend, though.

All of these factors are making this way too complicated. Checking the time, I see I've stalled as long as I possibly can, and dart back upstairs to stuff everything into my backpack. Time to bite the bullet and face my fears, I guess.

I open the door and am overcome by a sudden sense of déjà vu when I see Jared sitting in his jeep in front of my house. My stomach clenches up immediately and I regret those waffles I wolfed down ten minutes ago. I feel my face get hot and I'm not even off the porch yet.

What do I do now? Do I grab my bike and keep going as if I don't see him? But that would be idiotic because he's looking right at me, not to mention pretty rude.

Do I approach his jeep, though? And… what? Listen to him give me twenty-one reasons why he didn't have time to get the project done? I check my phone. We don't even have time for that, really.

I can't keep standing here, though.

As if sensing my indecision, Jared opens his car door and climbs out quickly. He jogs up to me, and I get a glimpse of his face close up. Just like before when he randomly showed up to my house, he looks terrible. He clearly got no sleep last night, but I can't fool myself into thinking it's all about me. He did say he had to work and he was probably working late or something.

Stay tough, Kim, I tell myself silently.

"Kimberly," he says, softly, when he's about five feet from me.

My hand tightens on my backpack strap at the sound of his voice. My stomach is really churning now.

"I'm so sorry," he says, quietly. "I know there's no excuse, but I…" He trails off.

I stare at the ground, unable to maintain eye-contact for some reason.

"Could I give you a ride to school?" he asks. "I… I thought I would explain to Mrs. Najera that I… that you did all of it, uh… that you did it yourself. The project, I mean."

Like everything else, I feel the jolt of surprise in my stomach when he says this.

"Maybe she won't penalize you if I explain what happened," he finishes, quietly.

I stare at him. I want to say thank you, but I don't know if that's appropriate for the situation or if my mouth will even work right now.

He stands there kind of awkwardly before I remember that he's offered me a ride and I haven't accepted or declined the offer yet.

I nod, hoping he'll get the message, because there's a lump in my throat and I'm afraid if I open up to say anything, I'll embarrass myself by crying. Nothing's even wrong anymore, except I hate this feeling, and my stomach is still uncomfortable. So if he were to ask me what was wrong, I wouldn't even be able to answer.

The car ride is silent, not because I don't want to talk, but because I simply don't know what or have anything to say. Do I blurt out "I forgive you" just like that? Do I even forgive him right now? I really don't know. I wish I wasn't so uncertain all the time when it came to simple human interaction.

We get to class a little early, which is perfect because we practically run into Mrs. Najera as we come around the corner where the classroom is. Jared asks her if they can talk privately and she agrees. Not really sure if I should just stand here, I kind of inch away from them and go inside the classroom.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Najera comes inside the room.

"Kimberly?" she says. I go up to the front of the room while everyone else, including Jared, is looking for a seat.

"Jared informed me about your situation. Unfortunately, I still insist on taking off one letter grade. If something like this happens again, please come to me before the project is actually due. You can present today, alone."

I turn bright red, but I nod. She's probably right. As much as I would have hated being a tattle-tale, it would have been easier on my nerves and my grade if I had come forward before all this had to happen. It's no less than I deserve for not standing up for myself.

I silently promise that I won't let anyone take advantage of my shyness again, but even as I make that promise, I know it's easier said than done.

As soon as she takes attendance, I'm given five minutes in the hallway to prepare and then I'm thrust in front of the classroom. Alone. Voice shaky and already wavering, I hesitantly begin to present my project –


- project could have gone better. At least, I got through it without crying, but honestly, I had to force out that I needed to be excused to the bathroom so that I could let go in peace.

I hate giving presentations. I stare at my flushed face and reddened eyes in the bathroom mirror. I hate that I get like this. Standing in front of people to present something is a fate worse than death. I hate that some people can do it so easily.

It's one of the reasons I used to have such a crush on Jared. He always did this kind of stuff effortlessly. It's part of the reason that I'm so upset with him, still. He could have helped me with the stage fright. I never cry when someone is up there with me – it only happens when I'm alone.

I turn on the cold water and splash some on my face, hoping to cool down. I wonder feverishly if I can fake some kind of illness, then immediately dismiss the thought from my head as idiotic. Mrs. Najera won't be easy to fool, and I will probably humiliate myself trying. Knowing me, I'll start crying again.

Stalling for as long as I can, I walk very slowly back towards the classroom, wishing I was daring enough to pull a stunt like yanking the fire alarm. But I'm way too practical for that. It would just delay the inevitable.

I slip into the classroom, trying to be unnoticed, but there's so few people that of course it doesn't work. No one says anything, but Mrs. Najera stops her lecture until I am settled back in my seat, giving my blush just enough time to return.

Unable to help myself, I sneak a sideways glance at Jared just to see if he's looking in my direction. I barely suppress making a noise of surprise to see that he's staring right at me, something like concern on his features. My blush deepens and my head snaps back towards the front.

I sink down into my seat, feeling his gaze on me throughout the entire lesson.

Sometimes I swear it was easier being invisible.


- FadingSlowly

Sorry for taking so long to update. Like Jared, I really have no excuse, other than to say I met someone. (And I think I imprinted on him.) And he's seriously the center of my universe. But I did not forget you guys, and I WILL finish this story. AND I have three others planned for this series, too, so we're not done by a long shot. Please stick with me! I thank all of you for your patience!