Chapter 10- "This Would Be A Really Good Time to Call Aqua Man."

Okay, in my own defense, I know at some point in your life, no matter who you are, you've messed up at least once. Maybe you forgot to study for a big math test because you were too busy playing Black Ops. Maybe you tried sushi at the gas station down the road and spent the whole week throwing up. Maybe you went to Vegas and woke up married to a restroom attendant named Barney Lipinski, or you got in a sketchy white van because the guy promised you candy. If you managed to pull off that one and you're still reading this…kudos to you.

Point being said, I'm not having the best day of my life. Why? Because no matter how many AP classes I manage to ace, I'm a total idiot.

We eat our sandwiches on the road and Jake and I get home around dinnertime. I don't bother telling him about my encounter with Kim due to the self-reassurance that I'll just come clean at school and the two of us will laugh about it. By the time we get home, we're hungry again, so I boil some spaghetti I find crushed behind the cupboard, he fixes the window, and I sweep up the broken glass before Billy gets home. Then Jake goes out for the night shift.

When Billy does wheel himself through the front door, he tells me he ran into Ms. Bridget, the principal of La Push Tribal School, on his way to Sue's. Apparently, I can scamper my little butt along to school tomorrow morning. I nearly choke on my pasta. I haven't even unpacked yet. How did they get my paperwork so fast?

The phone rings, Billy gets it, grunts, and hands it to me with my mouth full of stale spaghetti. I wonder who'd have a reason to be calling me from Billy's house, except for maybe Sam. That seems a little ordinary though, a simple phone call, considering we're teenage-wolfs with psychic powers. If there was a vampire gone killer, I was expecting more of a batman symbol kind of thing. I put that as a mental note for our next meeting.

I take a big swallow of pasta and start with a surprised, "Hello?"

"Hello, Kiley. My name is Patricia Rhodes. I'm calling on behalf of the Washington Academic Scholarship Program."

"I'm sorry? What?" I absently scrape my dinner into the trash, due to the fact that it tastes like glue, and start washing the heap of dishes in the sink. The phone is between my chin and my cheek.

"Let me explain. When your records were transmitted into the state of Washington, you were recognized for exceeding academic expectations within a very respected and challenging school environment. On an academic scholarship, was it not?"

On that lovely note of my intellectual abilities, I have the stupidity to nod my head over a telephone conversation.

"Hello?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm here. Yes, that's true." I hear the front door shut so I'm guessing Billy's gone to chill out on the front porch. He spent four hours out there yesterday, so I'm assuming this is just a regular thing with him.

"Well with your grades and PSAT scores, we want to enroll you as a competitor in our program."

"Really?" In an effort to hear better I turn the hot water off, and result in twisting the rusty handle off the sink. This does not fail to shut down the water supply, because naturally that would make my life hell of a lot easier.

"Yes. We'd like to speak to you and your principal tomorrow morning at…La Push Tribal School." She says the name like a question, and I mentally face palm myself. Nothing says a "respected and challenging school environment" than a school filled with wolves that flinch at the sight of shirts, shoes, and soap.

Speaking of soap, I'm up to my elbows in it at this point. I dig around in the cabinets for something to mop up the mess.

"I'll…um….talk to my principal….uh….sometime…as soon as I can." I scatter a dishcloth all over the slippery floor, and it's too wet too quickly. I have to find a way to make the water stop.

"No need. I left a voicemail for her at the school. Being selected is such a prestigious honor, I'm sure she can spare a few minutes of her time."

"Yes, of course," I reply in my best the-house-totally-isn't-flooding-right-now voice. I crawl into the cupboard behind the sink and peek around at the rusty pipes. Where was one of those handy dandy born-holding-a-screwdriver boys when you needed one?

"Well, we'd like to get a look at your resume and ask you a few questions about your future."

I roll my eyes and want to snort into the phone. Yeah. My current goal in life is not to drown while attempting to fix these stupid pipes. What comes out instead is, "That sounds fine."

"Excellent. Just think of this like an interview. If you're as gifted as these papers tell us, I'm sure this will go very well."

"Me too. Bye." I hit end as soon as possible so I can focus on the task at hand. Then I remember that I know absolutely nothing about plumbing.

"Billy?" I shout without trying to sound too helpless.

Nothing. Okay. Let's try this again.

"Billy!"

Alight screw the confident attitude.

"Billy! I need your help!"

Damn it.

I sit up so I can go get him myself and wind up smacking my head against a pipe. Being nearly indestructible, all I feel is a sting where my forehead hit metal. The pipe, unfortunately, has a huge crack in it. Before I produce any kind of useful reaction, I get a nice smack of water in the face.

Good news. The sink stopped running. Bad news. The pipes are leaking and it's so much worse.

One hand is pressed up against the pipe to keep myself dry. The other is still clutching the phone.

The phone! I very carefully slide myself out from under the sink. The water goes gushing everywhere, but I'll have to worry about that later. On the fridge, there's a list of numbers. About ten people. Apparently, Billy taped the town phonebook to the refrigerator. I scroll down the list of names until I find one I recognize. He answers on the first ring.

"Billy?" Sam asks me in his way too serious voice. In this case, I'm glad he's expecting the worst.

"Kiley," I counter, trying to keep my cool. No need for him to be sending the entire pack over a broken sink.

My tone doesn't seem to soothe him. "Kiley? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing…really." I'm just turning Billy's house into a swimming pool. "But…um…is there any chance you know somebody who could lend me a pound of bubblegum?" I know. I've never been very good at asking for help.

There's a long, awkward pause and I slip over to the door. Billy must have left. Thank God. Though I'm not sure how I can sweep my latest home disaster under the bed.

"Am I supposed to dignify that question with an answer?" Sam snaps. Great. He sounds pissed.

"Okay. I broke Billy's sink and I need to fix it. Really fast."

I hear an irritated sigh coming from the other line and he hangs up. Could I take that as a yes?

I get my answer two minutes later, when Embry pokes his head into the kitchen.

He sums his feelings up in one word. "Wow."

I'm on my knees, catching water with a mop bucket. I shoot him a look of pure desperation.

"Please tell me you can stop this."

"Well I don't have any bubblegum, but I'm sure I can manage."

I nearly jump up and kiss him in relief. Scooting over so he can squeeze his enormous body under the teeny tiny sink, he performs some kind of miracle that stops the water in ten seconds.

Words cannot describe how incredibly grateful I am, but I start with "Thanks."

He stands up to look at my soaking wet hair and clothes, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

My gratitude turns into suspicion. "What is it?"

"You're really rocking that wet T-shirt look."

I glare at him and skate across the kitchen floor with as much dignity as I can. It's a good thing he can't see my face, because it's probably tomato red.

"You are such a pig," I mutter as I go to the bathroom and collect an armful of towels.

"I was just messing with you," he replies in an innocent tone. He grabs a handful of his own, which is equivalent to my armful, and heads back to the kitchen.

"Wait…You don't have to do this," I tell him as he begins placing towels down on the floor.

"In the future, when I do something as dangerous as destroying Billy's oh-so-glamorous-kitchen…By the way, it really stinks in here."

"That's the fish. You get used to it. Now, you were saying?" I ask as I open up a window.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, we're a tight knit community. I've got your back and, hopefully, you won't push mine off a cliff."

I find myself laughing, which I certainly wasn't expecting after nearly losing it five minutes ago. "We'll see. And thanks again. Really."

"You can say that after you see my bill."

I feel my heart make a leap out of my chest. "Your what!"

He cracks a smile, and I remember the cookie analogy I made three days ago. I feel myself getting warm all over and pray to God he doesn't notice.

"Kiley, I'm kidding."

I remember to breathe, start drying the counters, and, for some reason, during the whole stupid cleanup, I can't stop smiling.

Like I said before, we've all screwed up, me possibly being the world record holder, but that doesn't mean I'm sorry about it. *Insert moral lesson about friendship here*

That was until Billy got home. Yeah, that wasn't pretty. Definitely not breaking any more appliances for the rest of my sorry life.