If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it
Chapter 6: Friends (I'll be there for you)
The motorcycles didn't need to be hidden any further than simply placing them in Jacobs shed. Billy's wheelchair couldn't maneuver the uneven ground separating it from the house.
Jacob started pulling the first bike—the naked red one, which was destined for me—to pieces immediately. He opened up the passenger door of the Rabbit so I could sit on the seat instead of the ground. While he worked, Jacob chattered happily, needing only the lightest of nudges from me to keep the conversation rolling. He updated me on the progress of his junior year of school, running on about his classes and his two best friends.
"Quil and Embry," I interrupted. I was sitting on the ground now, watching his large hands delicately and dexterously maneuver tools and bike parts. "Those are names."
He laughed, "Quil's name is a hand-me-down, and I think Embry got named after a soap opera star. I can't say anything though. They fight dirty if you start on their names—they fight dirty."
"Well now, obviously, I have to make fun of their names, so cool friends." I raised an eyebrow, deviously.
"No, no they're great. Just don't mess with their names."
"You and I both know I can't just leave it."
Before he could respond a voice called out in the distance. "Jacob?" Someone shouted.
"Is that your dad?"
"No." Jacob ducked his head, and it looked like he was blushing under his brown skin. "Speak of the devils." He mumbled. "My friends."
"Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool," I repeated the same word quickly, showing him my enthusiastic sarcasm.
…
We waited in short silence until two dark-skinned boys strolled around the corner into the shed.
One was slender, and almost as tall as Jacob. His black hair was chin-length and parted down the middle, one side tucked behind his ear while the right side swung free. I'll be the first to admit, I was jealous of his hair. Somehow he was able to pull of the middle shoulder length part, something I couldn't do. The shorter boy was burlier. His white t-shirt strained over his well-developed chest, and he seemed gleefully conscious of the fact. His hair was so short it was almost a buzz cut. I was not jealous of his hair.
Both boys stopped short when they saw me. The thin boy glanced swiftly back and forth between Jacob and me, while the brawny boy kept his eyes on me, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Hey, guys," Jacob greeted them halfheartedly.
"Hey, Jake," The short one said without looking away from me. I made my eyes go wide and gave a white person thin-lipped smile. His grin got more impish. That made me break, and I giggled. He winked at me, "Hi, there."
"Quil, Embry—this is my friend, Miri." He emphasized my name, like he'd been gossiping about me.
Quil and Embry, who I still didn't know who was who, exchanged a loaded look. The same kind of look I gave my best friend Lizzie, from Ivywood, when she and I saw that our ninth grade English teacher was a tweed wearing hottie (you know for ninth grade girls who think recent grad school grads who are pretentious and wear tweed are hot. It was a dark time).
"Charlie's kid, right?" The brawny boy asked, not to be confused with the paper towel brand. He sat next to me and held out hand.
"Ya." I agreed, shaking his glove of a hand. His grasp was firm; it looked like he was flexing his bicep.
"I'm Quil Ateara," He announced grandly before releasing my hand, and getting off the ground.
I looked at Jacob, and incredulously "Isn't that a hemorrhoid cream?" I looked back at Quil Ateara.
He said nothing. I swear I could see annoyance rise, like in the old cartoons.
"Yeah, I think I've seen commercials for Quilateara. Like, they give it to old people who have trouble wiping their geriatric ass, so they get hemorrhoids." I looked back at Jacob.
I saw his jaw tighten, and his eyes gleam with laughter.
"Isn't their jingle something like," I looked back at Quil, "'Quilateara for when your ass is raw.'"
I heard Jacob take a deep soothing breath.
"What the fuck kind of name is Miri?" He asked.
"A nickname."
"It's not even a name! It's a species of beetle." He insisted.
"That's why it's a nickname." I had to end it, because Jacob burst into laughter, "I'm fucking with you man, seriously. And you took it, we can be friends. Jacob told me you didn't like it when your name was made fun of, so I had make fun of it."
Quil looked more at ease at my admittance that I was screwing with him.
"Hey, Miri. I'm Embry Call—you probably figured that out, though." Embry smiled a shy smile and waved with one hand, which he immediately shoved in the pocket of his jeans.
I nodded, knowing I would have to be gentler when I made fun of his name, I didn't think he could handle a life-alert joke (who do you Embry call when you can't get up? Embry Call life alert, without life alert, I would be dead.) "Embry Call, yes… that is also a name."
He definitely took my joke better than Quil, but probably because he knew what I was up too.
"Seriously, though," I said, "If it makes us even, I used to eat candles." I admitted casually. "Do with that what you must."
"Seriously, this the girl that you lost your—" Quil started saying to Jacob before being elbowed by Embry.
"I only ate the candles, because they smelled good and when you're four things that smell good also taste good. What can I say, I was wrong. And also four." I said, ignoring that fact that Jacob definitely told his friends that we slept together. I should get a plaque made that says 'Virgin-Taker'. Or something similar. "It's nice to meet you anyway."
"So what are you doing anyway?" Quil asked, still looking at me. He had a satisfied look on his face, like he knew my deepest, darkest secret and could drop kick me with it; whenever.
"Miri and I are going to fix up these bikes," Jacob explained inaccurately. But bikes seemed to be the magic word. Both boys went to examine Jacob's project, drilling him with educated questions. Many of the words I were words that I had never heard before, like alternator and brake pedal. I figured I had to be really into cars and stuff to understand the excitement.
I checked my phone, while they were still immersed in motorcycle parts and pieces when I realized that I needed to go home and cook for my Dad. I got up gracefully, ass first.
Jacob looked at me apologetically, "We're boring you, aren't we?"
"Nopers." I said, and it wasn't lying. "I just have to go cook for my Dad."
"Oh…well, I'll finish taking these apart tonight and figure out what more we'll need to get started rebuilding them. When do you want to work on them again?"
"Could I come back tomorrow?" Sundays were the bane of my existence. Simply because it was homework day.
Quil nudged Embry's arm and they exchanged grins.
Jacob smiled in delight, "That would be great."
"If you make a list, we can go shop for parts," I suggested.
Jacobs smile fell. "I'm still not sure I should let you pay for everything."
I shook my head. "No way. I'm the sugar daddy in this. You provide the service, and I shower you with car parts and junk."
"That doesn't seem right, especially because you would be a sugar momma."
Embry and Quil made giggle faces without actually giggling.
"Jake, if I took it to a mechanic, do you know how much it would cost me?" I asked.
He smiled. "Okay, well I guess you're getting a deal."
"Not to mention, I'm teaching you how to ride bitch." I added.
Quil grinned widely at Embry and whispered something I didn't catch. Jacob's hand flashed out to smack the back of Quil's head. "That's it, get out." He muttered.
"No, really, I have to go." I protested, heading towards the door. Part of the reason I also needed to run out was my dad and Prissy's potential foster kid, Michael. He was coming over for dinner with his social worker.
…
As soon as I was out of sight, I heard Embry and Quil chorus, "OOOOoooooh!" like I had been called to the principal's office.
The sound was brief because I immediately heard slaps and a couple of "ouch"es and "hey"es.
"If either of you set as much as one toe on my land tomorrow…" I heard Jacob threaten. His voice was lost as I walked through the trees.
I chuckled quietly. Then I was actually laughing. Laughing!
…
I beat my dad, the social worker, and Michael home. When they walked in I was just taking the fried chicken out of the pot and was laying on a pile of paper towels.
"Hey Dad, Ms. Roz." I turned back to the lift another piece of chicken onto the towels. "S'up Michael."
Shock flitted across his face for a second. I hadn't really acknowledged Michael before. In fact I'd mostly figured that my dad wasn't going too approved because of his and Prissy's crazy schedules. But he did, and the construction to the back of the house was nearly done. All it needed was some furniture.
"Hey, honey." He said to me then turned to the social worker. "I'm going to lock my gun up, I'll be right back."
"Miriam what was it like growing up with Chief Swan?" Ms. Roz asked me.
"I didn't really live with him until last year," I admitted, "He and my mom divorced when I was a baby. And my mom and I lived with my grandparents in California. But when I came up here it was really good. And he always made time to come and see me when I was in California."
"Okay. Do you know where Chief Swan keeps his gun safe?" She asked.
"No." I finished taking the chicken off out of the pan and laying on the paper towels. I went over to the oven to check the biscuits. "Do you guys want some water or soda or something?"
"Can I get a coke?" Michael whispered to Ms. Roz. Michael looked different from what I pictured. Instead a mini version of the Mike I knew, he was skinny, and small. He had very dark hair, and choppy bangs. His eyes were brown and his face was covered in freckles. He kind of looked like my dad. His shirt hung off his shoulders, and his pants were a little baggy. His shoes matched mine, black converse.
"Yeah, I got coke." I said and walked over to the fridge, "Is he allowed to have coke?"
My dad walked back into the room, his gun and gun belt locked away.
"Sure."
"Dad can you get the biscuits out of the oven?" I asked while I got a coke from the fridge.
"Sure honey."
…
We sat around the table, with steam coming up from the biscuits and fried chicken.
"Did you have fun with Jacob?" Dad asked me.
"Who's Jacob?" Michael asked, shoveling a biscuit in his mouth.
"He is Miri's friend." My dad explained to Michael, he was using his soft voice. The one he always used with kids. "He is also the son of my friend."
"Who's Miri?" Michael asked.
"Me," I said.
"I thought your name was Miriam?"
"It is, Miri is a nickname." I shrugged and bit into a fried chicken leg.
"Charlie," Ms. Roz said. She knew my dad well. She was one of the county's CPA social workers. There were a bunch of foster parents in Forks, and my dad knew Ms. Roz. Partly because her husband was Deputy Steve. I had met her last summer at the Forks Police Picnic, but I had met her as Mrs. Deputy Steve. I also met her and Deputy Steve's kids, three adopted elementary-aged kids, and twin babies that were theirs biologically. "How often does Priscilla work nights?"
"She usually works three days straight and then she's home for the remaining four days. She's only working nights this week because she's training some of the new nurses they hired." He explained.
"Miriam is your dad home in time to care for you?" She asked.
"He usually clocks out at five and I cook dinner for us, he does KP duty." I said. "And Dad, I hope it's okay, but I'm hanging out with Jacob tomorrow too."
My dad nodded, "Did you have fun?"
"Yeah.
"That's good." He said, after taking a bite of his food, "What did you do? Go to another movie in Port Angeles?"
"No, we hung out in his garage, talked, and junk. He's rebuilding a Volkswagen?"
"Aren't you working tomorrow?"
"Where do you work, Miriam?" Ms. Roz asked.
"No, Mrs. Newton cut my hours. I'm not working this Sunday." I turned to Ms. Liz who was gently eating her food, "I work at Newtons."
"Yeah, Billy mentioned he was excited to work on something new."
…
My Dad turned to Michael, "So Michael if it's okay with Ms. Roz, what do you say about both of you guys staying a little later than usual."
"Why?"
"Ms. Roz told me you really like hockey, especially the San Jose Sharks."
"Yeah, they're playing a game tonight!" Michael said, enthusiastically. "Timo Meier is the best!"
"Really?" My dad feigned surprise, "Well you know they're up against the Caps tonight!"
"Yeah, I hate the Caps! They're stupid!"
"So, if Ms. Roz says it is okay, what do you say we watch the Sharks vs the Caps tonight?"
"Can we Ms. Roz?" Michael turned to look at his social worker. "Please!"
"I don't see why not." Ms. Roz said looking at his watch. "We might have to miss the end if it goes into overtime. I'll call your foster mother now."
"What about you Peach? Are you gonna watch the game with us?" My dad asked me.
"I got stupid homework to finish." I rolled my eyes, "Mr. Berty is on my case because I didn't do the reading packet."
My dad nodded, "Okay, when you finish, come down and join us."
"I can do my homework on the kitchen table instead of my desk." I agreed.
…
I did my homework on the kitchen table, while my dad and Michael watched the game. It was kind of weird watching my Dad be a good dad. Not that he wasn't a good dad to me when I was, like, 8, it was just like he never got the chance. I had been his part time kid for a long time.
"Do we have to go, Ms. Roz?" Michael asked, "'Cause there's only forty-five minutes left, and Angie won't mind if I'm late. She's got four other kids to watch, and they're all teenagers."
"Yes, we can meet with Chief Swan and Ms. Priscilla next week."
"Does that mean I'm moving here?" He asked.
"It means we're close to getting you into a permeant placement."
"And that's good?" Michael squeaked. He couldn't really help it. He was young and all his voice did was squeak.
"That's right, buddy," I heard my dad say. "It's very good. It also means we can watch the other hockey game."
...
While my dad bid Ms. Roz and Michael goodbye and I went to my room. I pulled off my clothes and put on a big t-shirt from a Salt n' Pepa concert that I found in the Forks thrift store. I went to my bathroom took out my contacts, put on my glasses, and brushed my teeth. I missed my mouth once; smearing some toothpaste on my cheek. The afternoon's sense of well-being seemed to rise, not drain from my system.
I wasn't numb anymore. I wasn't mourning anymore. I laid down in my bed and held Mollie Dolly close. I closed my eyes and…the next thing I knew, it was morning.
…
I looked at the pale silver light coming through my window, surprised.
I slept for what felt like a second. For the first time in four months, I'd slept without dreaming. Or at least remembering my dreams.
I laid in my bed a few more minutes, relishing that restfulness of my sleep. Still I waited for the other shoe to drop. For Mr. Vampy to come back and shatter me again. For Jake to say "thanks for the sex, but that's all I want. Toodles." Logically that wasn't going to happen, because Jake and I had been hanging out platonically a lot since November and he didn't once say toodles. Or thank me for anything that awkwardly.
I rolled over in my bed, sick of everything not a foot away from my face being blurry and put on my glasses. With clear vision I saw my room. With suddenly magical clear eyes I saw my room. It looked to clean to be mine. There were no loose t-shirts hanging over the half oven dresser drawers. In fact the dresser was shut. There were no water bottles littering the floor, there were discarded jeans and belts on the floor. My shoes were all in their corner, but just around the shoe rack. My work backpack was in my chair, and my actual backpack was on the floor. My laptop was plugged in, but off and not in sleep mode. My hamper wasn't even over flowing, it was almost empty… had I really kept up with my laundry?
My room was too tidy for me, it was like I didn't live there.
…
I pulled on a flannel shirt today, and the same jeans from last night because jeans don't get dirty the same way cotton does. I was going to see Jake again today and that was something good.
…
At breakfast, my dad was being careful. Not about me or anything. But for himself. He didn't want to get his hopes up. I didn't know where Prissy was, but I'm sure she was sleeping.
He had trained his eyes on his eggs. "What are you up to today?" He asked, moving his mind from Michael and paying attention to me.
"I'm going to see Jake again today."
He nodded, "Oh, yeah, you mentioned that."
"I can stay here, if you want."
He frowned at me, "No, no. Go have fun. Harry was going to come up and watch the game with me anyway"
"Maybe Harry could give Billy a ride up. Hashtag boys day." I suggested.
"That's a great idea."
…
I wasn't sure what game of magic ball the muscley men must have—sport—was on. But he headed over to the phone and I donned my rain-jacket. My checkbook felt awkward in my thrifted purse. But that was because I got Minnie and Mickey Mouse checks; they were free when I opened up my student account at Ivywood Bank Trust.
Outside, the rain came down like a waterfall. I drove slower than I wanted too, but the raining was obscuring my windshield faster than my wipers could wave. I made it through the muddy lanes to Jake's house. Before I'd killed the engine, the front door opened and Jacob came running out with a huge black umbrella.
He held it over my door while I opened it.
"Charlie called—said you were on your way," Jacob said with a grin.
"Hi." I smiled, the icy rain didn't touch me as he held the umbrella from over our heads.
"Good call on inviting my Dad up." He held his hand up for a high five.
I slapped his hand, "Stroke of genius."
…
Harry showed up to pick up Billy a couple minutes later. Jacob took me on a tour of his basement room—that I'd already seen—while we waited to be unsupervised.
…
"So where to, Mr. Stay Puff Marshmallow Man?" I asked as soon as the door closed behind Billy.
Jake pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out. "That's not a car thing, it's from Ghostbusters."
"I don't know car things. But if you wanted me to tell you the best indie brands for nail polish, I got your back."
"I don't care about those things. But we'll start at the dump first, see if we can get lucky. This could get a little expensive," He warned, "Those bikes are going to need a lot of help before they'll run again." My face didn't look worried enough, so he continued. "I'm talking more than a hundred dollars here."
I nodded slightly, "I've literally spent more than that on nail decals. We're covered man."
…
It was a very strange day. I enjoyed myself. Even at the dump, Jake kept making me laugh, I kept tripping, and I made him laugh too. Even in the rain and ankle-deep mud. I think being around Jake was what made the day so fun.
It was Jacob himself. It was impossible to be upset around him. He carried his happiness around like an aura sharing with everyone around him. It was natural being around him; like he was an earthbound sun being within his gravitational pull, Jacob warmed them. It was natural, a part of who he was.
Even when he commented on the gaping hole in my dashboard, it didn't make me panic or feel sad.
"Did the stereo break?" He wondered.
"No." I said, "I just took it out."
He poked around in the cavity. "Who took it out? There's a lot of damage…"
"I did." I told him.
He laughed, "Maybe don't touch the motorcycles too much."
"Won't be a problem."
…
According to Jake, we got lucky at the dump. He was very excited about several grease-blackened pieces of twisted metal he found; I was just as impressed, I thought it was garbage, but he could tell what it was.
From there we went to the Checker Auto Parts down in Hoquiam. In my truck, it was more than a two hour drive south on the winding freeway, but the time passed quickly with Jacob. He chattered about his friends and his school, and I made sure to interrupt him and ask questions.
"I'm doing all the talking." He complained after a long story about Quil and the trouble he'd stirred up by asking out a senior's steady girlfriend. "Why don't you take a turn? What's going in Forks? It's gotta be more exciting than La Push."
"Wrong." I sighed, "There's nothing really happening. Nothing ever happens in Forks. The funniest thing that happened was my friend Mike broke a finger re-stocking protein powder, he snap chatted the entire thing. And it was boring. Besides I like your friends. Quil's fun to mess with.
He frowned. "I think Quil likes you."
I laughed, "He's a little young for me."
Jacobs frown deepened. "He's not that much younger than you. Just a year and a few months."
I had a feeling we weren't talking about Quil anymore. Jesus, I needed to get a plaque made—Virgin Taker. I stayed teasing. "Sure, but, considering the difference my reaction versus his reaction to the teasing, I don't think he's old enough. I think we have to wait a couple years until he's mature, let's count in dog years."
He laughed, rolling his eyes. "Okay but if you're going to get picky like that, you have to average in size too. You're so small, I'll have to knock ten years off your total. So that makes you like eight."
"I'm five foot eight!" I inisited, "Not shirmpy, taller than average! It's not my fault you and you're friends are freakishly tall."
…
We bantered like that until Hoquiam, still arguing over the correct formula to determine age—I lost two more years because I didn't know how to change a tire. But I gained a year back for being able to cook without chopping my hand off. Also I got five years back for music taste, although I had to argue very hard for Paula. Until we were in Checker, and Jacob had to concentrate again. We found everything left on his list, and Jacob felt confident that he could make a lot of progress with our haul.
…
By the time we got back to La Push, I was twenty-four and he was thirty—he definitely weighting skills in his favor.
I hadn't forgotten the reason for what I was going, I wanted to get out of my house, spend more times with friends… become myself again. And drive a vehicle that went over sixty miles an hour.
…
Billy wasn't back yet so we didn't have to be sneaky-sneaky when we unloaded our day's spoils. As soon as we had everything laid out on the plastic floor next to Jacob's toolbox, he went right on with his work, still talking and laughing while his fingers combed expertly through the metal pieces in front of him.
Jacob's skill with his hands was fascinating. They looked too big for the delicate tasks they performed with ease and precision. While he worked he seemed almost graceful. Unlike when he was on his feet; there, his height and big feet made him nearly as dangerous as I was.
Quil and Embry did not show up, so maybe his threat yesterday had been taken seriously.
The day passed to quickly. I got dark outside the mouth of the garage before I was expecting it, and then we heard Billy calling for us.
…
I jumped up to help Jacob put things away, hesitating because he wasn't actually putting things away.
"Just leave it," He whispered softly into my ear sending a shock down my spine. "I'll work on it later tonight."
"Don't forget your schoolwork or anything," I said, trying not to draw attention to the tingle he gave me. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea or anything, and I didn't want him to get into trouble.
"Thanks mom."
"Peach?"
Both our heads snapped up as my Dad's familiar voice wafted through the trees, sounding closer than the house.
"Shit," I murmured, "Coming, Dad." I yelled to the house.
"Let's go." Jacob smiled, enjoying the cloak-and-dagger. He snapped the light, and for a moment I was blind.
"I can't see." I said, just as Jacob grabbed my hand and led me out of the garage and through the trees, his feet finding the familiar path easily. His hand was rough and very warm.
…
Despite the path, I dragged him. Making him trip over his feet as I tripped over mine in the darkness. So we were both laughing when the house came into view. The laughter didn't sound deep, it sounded light and superficial, but it was.
…
My dad was standing under the little back porch, and Billy was sitting in the doorway behind him.
"Hey, Dad." We both said to our prospective dads at the same time, and that got us laughing again.
My dad stared at me with wide eyes that flashed down to note Jacob's hand around mine.
"Billy invited us for dinner," Charlie said to us in an absentminded tone, "Priscilla is driving up now."
"My super-secret recipe for spaghetti. Handed down for generations," Billy said gravely.
Jacob snorted, "Yeah, I don't think Barilla is a secret."
…
The house was crowded. Harry Clearwater was there too, as was his family—his wife Sue, whom I knew vaguely from my childhood summers in Forks, and his two children. Leah was a senior like me, but a year older. She was beautiful—perfect cooper skin, glistening black hair, eyelashes like feather dusters—and preoccupied. She was on Billy's phone when we got in, and she never let it go. Seth was fourteen; he hung on Jake's every word with idolizing eyes.
There were too many of us for the kitchen table, so my dad and Harry brought chairs out to the yard, and we ate spaghetti of our laps in the dim light from Billy's open door. The men talked about the fame, and Harry and Charlie made fishing plans. Sue teased her husband about his cholesterol and tried, unsuccessfully, to shame him into eating something green and leafy. Priscilla dazzled everyone with her stories. Jake talking mostly to me and Seth, who eagerly interrupted whenever Jake seemed in danger of forgetting him. Jake also kept stealing bites off my plate. All throughout dinner my dad watched me, trying to be inconspicuous about it, with pleased but cautious eyes.
It was loud and sometimes confusing as everyone talked over everyone else, and the laughter from one joke interrupted the telling of another. I didn't have to speak often, except to scold Jake for stealing my food, but when I did eat; I still wore a smile on my face.
…
This was Washington, though, and the inevitable rain eventually broke up the party; Billy's living room was too small to provide an option for continuing the get-together. Harry had driven my dad down, so we rode together in my truck on the way back home. He asked about my dad, and I told the truth—omitting the motorcycles—I did tell him Jake and I went on an adventure to find spare parts and I watched him build in his garage. And since Prissy drove her Prius over, she drove in front of us.
"You think you'll visit anytime soon?" He wondered aloud, trying to be casual about it.
"Tomorrow after school," I admitted. "I'll take homework, don't worry."
"You be sure to do that," He ordered, trying to disguise his satisfaction.
…
I didn't want to go upstairs when we got home, the more I spent time in my room; the more time I spent texting Liz about her budding relationship. Still, I relaxed at in the living room, while my dad and Prissy watching the recorded Jeopardy. I checked the email on my iPhone; there was a new message from my mom.
She wrote about her day/week. A new mommy and baby group she joined after the old one found out she was in her mid-thirties, had a teenage kid from a previous marriage, and the man/demon she was currently married too wasn't some rich real estate mogul or something of high caliber like that. Ah, California—thy pretention I miss thee. She was now in some kind of hippy mommy and baby group that annoyed the ever living Jesus out her, all the crunchy-granola-vegan-self-sufficient-sanctimonious-mommies she hated and was looking for something else. Her week working at Astaire's Salon and Spa's sister store—Crystal By the Sea Salon and Spa, her being subsequently offered the head nail tech position there but with a lot less pay than what she was used too. Another big batch of followers from her nail art Instagram page, and getting a couple of sponsor offers (which she took). She wrote about Steve enjoying the season of some new sport Valley Plains Charter decided to introduce after a bunch of big donations to help repair the dance gym from last years' arson (oops). And she and Steve were planning to take my half-sister, Grace, to Disney Land sometime after the school year ended. Which was ridiculous because Grace was like almost a year old, she couldn't even talk much yet. She barely started using real words.
Reading the whole thing was like reading a journal entry, rather than an email. Like, now I was her part time kid. And yeah, she was a baby, whatever that keeps her busy; but it felt like I was being left behind.
…
I wrote back quickly, mostly commenting about her Instagram page, and if she could get me the linear dual-chrome (in gold and black) from Tri-Tip Nails (one of the companies that paid for a sponsored ad), and I volunteered information of my own—describing the spaghetti party at Billy's and Jacob's food theft. I also wrote about the motorcycles—unlike my dad, my mom was adamant that I needed to learn how to ride a motorcycle, but that wasn't because she didn't want me to ride bitch—she wanted me to learn how to improve my balance.
…
I stayed up later than I should have, mostly doing homework that I had neglected until to the last minute. But lure of my bed was stronger than the lure of my homework.
…
I woke up easily to the dim morning light that filtered through the early morning fog, but then my dreams came back to me.
I was in the dump, like yesterday, playing trash-throw (a game where you throw trash at each other), until I was in a dark wooded area with Sam Uley—the man who had pulled me from the forest floor that night, months ago. His eyes had been unfriendly, filled with some secret he didn't seem inclined to share. All he did was scrutinize me, frown, in these unfamiliar woods. Yet unlike the night months ago—he wasn't inclined to help me. My eyes were terrible in my dream—worse in reality, but in my dream I could see Sam perfectly when I looked at him straight on, but whenever I turned my head and looked at him through my peripheral vision his form changed and shifted.
…
My dad stared at me during breakfast, Prissy was taking her first day off of the week and catching up on sleep so when Michael came back on Wednesday she would be the ultimate mother. My dad staring at me at breakfast wasn't the most unusual thing, he resigned himself to be silent about my birth control use, the fact that I went on a new pill (that prevented my period entirely), made him uncomfortable and silent.
…
School was the opposite, no one stared at me anymore.
I remembered the first day I'd come to Forks High School—everyone looking at me, and how I wanted to just fade in, and be a member of the student body.
It was like I was the rest of the student body, even my teachers were used to me.
…
I listened all through the morning, except for like twenty minutes in math when my Falsies got unglued and I had to go to the bathroom and fix it. I was able to catch up with the gossip I'd missed out on over the weekend. All the information was disjointed at best. So I had to consult to the gossip queen.
Jess didn't look at me when I sat down next to her in Calc.
"Hey, Jess." I said, "How was the rest of your weekend?"
She looked at me with suspicious eyes. Could she still be angry? Or was she too cool for school?
"Super," She said, turning back to her book.
Cold shoulder seemed to have some literal truth to it. I could feel the warm air blowing from the floor vents, but I was still cold.
…
My fourth period class got out late, and the lunch table was full by the time I arrived. Mike was there, Jessica, and Angela, Conner, Tyler, Eric, and Lauren. Katie Marshall, the redhead junior who lived around the corner from me, was sitting with Eric, and Austin Marks—older brother to the boy with motorcycles—was next to her. I wondered how long they had been sitting together, unable to remember when this started.
I was getting more and more annoyed with myself, my internalization and astral back to Ivywood really screwed with being here last semester.
No one looked up when I sat down next to Mike, even though the chair squeaked across the linoleum.
…
Mike and Conner were talking sports—boring—and I didn't even try with that one.
"Where's Ben today?" Lauren was asking Angela. I perked up, interested. I wondered if that meant Angela and Ben were still together.
Lauren looked so different from the last time I'd paid attention to her. She'd cut off most of her blonde hair—now she had a pseudo-bob and an under shave. She looked like a punk head on a preppy Barbie doll, why did she do that? Did she get gum in it? Was this her version of teenage rebellion? Is she trying to rebrand herself? Did she get scalped by the people she made backhanded compliments too?
"Ben's got the stomach flu," Angela said in her quiet, calm voice. "Hopefully it's just some twenty-four hour thing. He was really sick last night."
Angela had, it seemed, finally gotten the courage to change her hair, and was growing out her layers.
"What did you do this weekend?" Jessica asked, not sounding as if she cared about the answer. Gossip queen she was, she also wanted all the attention for herself. So she could talk about what happened at Port Angele.
"We were going to have a picnic Saturday, actually, but… we changed our minds," Angela said. There was an edge to her voice that caught my interest.
Jess, not so much, "That's too bad," She said, about to launch into her story. But I wasn't the only who was paying attention.
"What happened?" Lauren asked the same time I did.
"Well," Angela said, seemingly more hesitant than usual, though she was always reserved, "We drove up North, almost to the hot springs—there's a good spot just a mile up the trail. But when we were halfway there…we saw something."
"Saw something? What?" Lauren's pale eyebrows pulled together. Even Jess was listening now.
"I don't know…" Angela trailed off, "We think I was a bear. It was black, anyway, but it seemed… too big."
Lauren snorted. "Oh, no! Not you too!" Her eyes turned mocking. "Tyler tried to sell me that one last week."
"You're not going to see any bears that close to the resort," Jessica said, siding with Lauren.
"Really." Angela protested in a low voice, looking down at the table. "We did see it."
Lauren Snickered. Mike was still talking to Conner, not paying attention to the girls.
"No, she's right." I threw in, "We had a hiker in on Saturday who saw a bear too, Angela. He said it was huge and black and just outside of town, didn't he Mike."
There was moment of silence. Every pair of eyes at the table had turned to stare at me, like I hadn't been routinely part of the group since my break up. And yeah, my conversations had been limited to one or two people and not the group but I still wasn't not a part of the group. The new girl, Katie, had her mouth open, like, she was surprised I could speak.
"Mike?" I kicked him gently under the table, "You remember the hiker that was annoying?"
"S-sure," Mike said, stuttering for a moment. He recovered quickly, "Yeah, there was a guy who said he saw a huge black bear right at the trailhead—bugger than a grizzly." He confirmed.
Lauren harrumphed and turned to Jessica, her shoulders stiff and changed the subject.
"Did you hear back from USC?" She asked.
Everyone else looked away, too, except for Mike and Angela. Angela smiled at me tentatively, and I smiled back.
"So what did you do this weekend, Miri?" Mike asked, curious.
Everyone but Lauren looked back, waiting for my response.
"Friday night, Jess and I went to a movie in Port Angeles. And then I spent Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday down at La Push."
Their eyes flickered to Jess and back to me. Jess looked irritated. I wondered if she didn't want anyone to know she'd gone out with me, or whether she wanted to be the one to announce it.
"What movie did you see?" Mike asked with a smile.
"Dead End—the one with the zombies." I grinned in encouragement, maybe some of the Ivywoo-Astral-Projection I'd been doing was forgiven.
"I heard that was scary. Did you think so?" Mike was eager to continue the conversation.
"Miri had to leave at the end, she was so freaked." Jess inserted with a sly smile.
I nodded, embarrassed. "There was so much blood, I don't do well with blood."
…
Mike didn't stop questioning me till lunch was over. Gradually, the others were able to start up their own conversations, but they still looked at me lot. Angela talked mostly to Mike and me, and, when I got up to dump my tray, she followed.
"Thank," She said in a low voice when we were away from the table.
"For what?"
"Speaking up, sticking for me."
"No problem, you're my friend."
She looked at me with concern, but not offensive concern. "Are you okay?"
His is why Angela was my best friend over Jessica (unless it came to gossip or impromptu plans—then I went to Jessica), Angela was always perceptive.
"Yeah, I'm done astral projecting into Ivywood, thanks for pulling me back here."
"I'm glad, I missed you." She said.
Lauren and Jessica strolled by us then, and I heard Lauren whisper loudly, "Oh, joy, Miri's back."
Angela rolled her eyes at them, and smiled at me in encouragement.
I shrugged, "Back and better than ever." I whispered to Angela.
"What's today's date anyway?" I asked Angela/
"It's January nineteenth."
"What?"
"What is it?" Angela asked.
"A year and two weeks ago, I had my first day here." I laughed.
"Nothing's changed much," Angela muttered, looking after Lauren and Jess."
"I know," I agreed. "I was just thinking the same thing."
…
FINALLY, I UPDATED. It's been like a year (or two months or something). Below is how I remembered which was quil and which was embry…. Smeyer wasn't too good at differentiating between them after she introduced them, aside from their names and vague hair and height. That's right, Miri Charlie and Prissy are adopting a kid, bc as I said in the first book Charlie is more than a beer dad and a shadow in bellas (miri's) life. Also I will try to update OWAW (its been like a year or something) sometime this month. But my work hours are terrible and I will have to fix them first. Let me know what you think of the chapter by reviewing! Luv u and c u l8ter 3. I'll try to have the next chapter out in a week or so.
Brawny/ short hair/ shorter=quil
Tall/lanky/great hair=embry
i also want to let everyone know that Miri was not depressed at all the last couple of months/chapters i wrote, when and if she goes through a depressive episode i will write it completely differently. I wanted to write Miri as grieving the death of her relationship and turning to those she knew before emo-sexy eddie such as Jacob (whom she's known since childhood when she went to Forks to visit her dad) and her friend in Ivywood (Liz the Blizzard). I will write more about Liz in the future, but not today in this chapter. SHe was just mourning the loss of a relationship and didn't really know how to do that so she became more introverted and kept to herself when she wasn't talking to Liz or Jake or the people her friends from Ivywood (more on that later). Depression has many symptoms and people experience the symptoms differently, but I did not give Miri any symptoms that would qualify her of having major depressive disorder (MDD), i was very conscious of that (and I was taking an abnormal psych class in school so I was able have the actual symptoms list from the DSM-5 on hand when writing a bunch of the previous chapters) but that being said how Miri (or ya'know an actual real person) experiences depression is different, and if Miri's mourning period is in anyway similar to how you or someone you know experience MDD please not it was not intentional, it does NOT invalidate your/their mental health and what you've/ they've gone through to get a diagnosis or to a recovery. if you want to read this as Miri being depressed bc it makes the story better for you, be my guest. I left a lot of stuff about her sort of open for interpretation bc of how different mental health is for everyone. ANd i want to say anyone who reads this with a mental illness (or not) i will do my very best to deliver an authentic but (hopefully) non-triggering representation of mental illness and mental health in a way that's not cheesy or boring but is full of good information such as real phone numbers for hotlines and such, if i so chose to have any of the characters go through a mental health arc (and i promise i wont forget about the next chapter and be like 'harhar, shes norms agains!). If i do bring out a story line where a character has a mental illness, it won't be for shits and giggles-it will be a definitely part of the characterization and i will do what ever i can to make it real (and non-triggering) but light and entertaining. PM me if you have an concerns or questions.