Sorry it took me so long to update. I felt like writing bitchy!Nessie, and this was the result. (Je t'aime beaucoup: I'll be using your idea next drabble/chapter; thanks again for the idea. :) )
The two girls look like complete opposites: Leah's hair is short and choppy; her skin is dark; and her clothing is ragged, torn, and old. Renesmee is nothing short of pristine; bronze ringlets curled to perfection; lips full, pink, and pouty; her current outfit probably cost more than Leah's entire wardrobe (which admittedly wasn't saying much). But despite their completely contradictory appearances, they do have one thing in common. Or person, rather.
Jacob Black. And that is what Leah is here to speak to Renesmee about.
"Can I talk to you alone for a moment?" she asks through gritted teeth. The dark-haired boy that connects the two girls blinks at her in confusion.
"What do you want with Nessie, Leah?" he asks, no, demands, eyes flashing protectively. The bronze-haired girl by his side smiles, syrupy sweet.
"I'm not going to kill her or anything," Leah grinds out between her clenched teeth. "Or even hurt her," she adds, seeing the look on Jacob's face. "I just want to talk. In private."
"Don't worry, Jake, I'll be fine," Renesmee coos, brushing a hand across his face reassuringly. Leah looks away.
"Alright, well, if you're sure," Jacob says, uncertainly. "But… Leah… you know…"
Of course, Leah thinks. If I insult his precious spawn, there'll be hell to pay.
Life was so unfair.
Jacob shrugs, and relents, reluctantly leaving his imprint's side. Leah glances at Renesmee in distaste, then mutters, "C'mon."
"Where are we going? Why do you wish to speak with me, Leah?" Renesmee asks, eyes wide and curious. And innocent. Leah is not fooled.
"You know perfectly well why," she hisses.
A coy look flashes across Renesmee's face; then it is gone. "I thought you wanted to talk in private," she says. "Jacob's nearby."
Leah jerks her head towards an adjacent room, and they head there. The door slams shut behind them. Renesmee leans against it.
"What would you like to speak to me about, Leah?" she asks.
Leah grits her teeth again, wishing the spawn would drop the pretense. "You know perfectly well why," she repeats.
"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."
"Here's a word—or name, rather—to remind you," Leah spits. "Nahuel."
Something flashes in Renesmee's eyes. "Yes, he is quite kind." She nods agreeably. "He's been teaching me Spanish phrases."
"Oh?" Leah snarls. "He talking dirty to you in Spanish or something?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Renesmee says, blinking, the very picture of innocence.
"You know," Leah seethes. "You're cheating on Jacob. With Nahuel."
"I believe you're mistaken," Renesmee corrects, still blinking in obviously false confusion. At least, it is obviously false to Leah. "Nahuel is a good friend; nothing more."
"Yeah," Leah sneers. "Friends with benefits."
"Leah, I would like to respect you, really I would," Renesmee sighs. "But I don't think I can, at least not if you keep making up lies about me. I'm sorry if you like Jacob, but he imprinted on me, and that's the way it is; there's no need to invent untruths to please yourself. There is especially no need to share your falsities with me."
Leah is fed up. "I'll tell Jacob," she threatens.
It is amazing, she thinks, how Renesmee can change so quickly. One moment she is the very epitome of beautiful innocence; the next moment her brown eyes are dark and angry, and her face is a mask of fury. "You wouldn't dare," she whispers, voice low and dangerous.
"You watch me. You just watch me," Leah hisses back.
There is silence for a moment, and then Renesmee's face smoothes out. She smiles again, a cotton candy smile, overly saccharine and every bit as artificial. "If you wish to hurt Jacob with your lies, something I don't want at all," the all is stressed, "then feel free to do so," she says. "Unfortunately for you, Jacob won't take too kindly to that. I'll just have to comfort him afterwards, won't I?" She preens.
Leah seethes in silence, wondering how the hell a seven-year-old could be so damn manipulative. It takes her a few minutes to think up a proper response. "You're hurting him in the first place by cheating on him!" she spits.
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Renesmee points out.
"So you do admit you're cheating on him!" Leah snarls in triumph.
"I admit nothing of the sort," Renesmee sniffs. "You're just jealous, Leah, because you want him for yourself, and you can't have him. You're always panting after—if you'll pardon the pun—men you can't have. It's pathetic. Utterly pathetic," she sneers, and then with an elegant flip of her long bronze curls, she opens the door and stomps away.
Leah stares after her, jealousy and fury—mostly fury—bubbling up in her chest like a Yellowstone National Park geyser. She's angry, but only a small part of her is angry about the spawn's actions.
Most of her is angry because, no matter what is said or done, it all boils down to one thing, and it fills Leah with bitter shame.
Renesmee is right.
Hmm. Felt like I should've used past tense for this. What do you all think?
Reviews are really awesome.
