Ginger 1/2
Ginger was ten when she first heard about the Uley boys.
One of her sisters—probably Vick, but it could have been Mel, Ginger didn't really remember—was getting ready for a date. The other was complaining about her day and Ginger was trying not to be too annoying, so they wouldn't kick her out like they usually did. They were big girls, her half-sisters, and they didn't always like when she hovered.
Mel, she was almost sure, was the one that complained, "Fran was here with her Mom. God, she's such a two-faced bitch."
"Not that you'd ever dare say that to her face," Vick said. "Ginger, don't touch that!"
Ginger put down the tube of lipstick and decided sitting on the bed would be less likely to get her kicked out. "Why wouldn't she say it?"
Mel wasn't afraid of anything.
"You never pick a fight with someone from La Push." Ginger rolled her eyes; everyone knew that. They looked after each other, in the other town. And if they didn't get you, the bears would.
"Plus if you're nice to Fran, she might let you near her brother," Vick said. Mel was loud; Vick was sneaky. The Walker girls always got what they wanted.
"Brothers," Mel said. "I bet a bunch of them are your age, Gin. Get yourself a Uley a boy, if you can."
"A what? What's so special about them?" she had wondered.
Both her sisters rolled their eyes. "You'll figure it out," Mel had promised.
When Ginger met Art, she figured it out.
Mel's latest guy was in a band. He'd played a guitar for the Walker girls once or twice and Ginger hadn't been all that impressed, but she'd just smiled. Mel didn't really like him, but that wasn't really the point, so she just kept her mouth shut so Mel wouldn't be pissed. Apparently the guitarist was better than she thought (or the rest of the band was good enough to make up for him; she never did figure out which it was).
Even though Art was just a kid—and not the way she was just a kid, where it was impossible to tell she was just twelve when she put on the right makeup and borrowed her sisters' clothes—Art was allowed in the band because he was that freaking good.
He was so good they made him come to the party even though no one thought he'd enjoy it. He was so good they wanted to find someone to drag him upstairs and make a man of him.
Art was sneaking out the back when he bumped into Ginger, making out with Vick's ex-boyfriend.
She'd never seen a guy try to get out of meeting Mel before. When she asked him where he was going, Art apologized and told her to thank her sisters for inviting him to the party.
"Later, kid," Vick's ex had said. Ginger climbed off him though, trying to figure it out.
"Wait up," she ordered. Art stayed, even though he looked mighty uncomfortable while she and Vick's ex had gotten into it for a minute or two, until he eventually headed back inside, calling her—whatever. Even not knowing anything, she was more interested in the thin, awkward boy waiting for her like she'd asked.
"You're not having fun," she realized.
"I am," he lied, so badly she grinned. "I just—I want some fresh air."
"You don't have to hang around those losers if you don't want to."
"I thought I was coming to play," he explained. "But I—this? This is just so not my scene."
"What do you do?" she asked.
He sang for her, right there in the backyard, sang I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told... and she was in love with him by the end of the song. It took Art just three minutes to make her fall in love with him for the rest of her damn life.
That was part of being a Uley.
They saw each other here and there, Arthur and Ginger. She was pretty sure he was interested, but apparently being good and adorable and lovable wasn't the only thing in the Uley package: there was also the inability to just act on your freaking feelings. Annoyed, Ginger had crashed Dolly Ateara's birthday party.
Ginger met Brian and it wasn't like the world stopped.
It was different from meeting Art. Where Art had been trying to hide, Brian was at the center of the whole shindig. He was the biggest guy Ginger had ever seen, towering over everything, a hunk of manmeat she'd joke about wanting to devour but was secretly just a little bit scared of. But when his eyes met hers she wasn't scared anymore. Brian looked at her and Ginger grinned, seeing the family resemblance in his face and in the kindness in his eyes.
Brian came over to talk to her at one point, not like some of Vick and Mel's friends did, looking down her top, trying to make sure her sisters weren't around, already trying to pick out spots they could take her to. No, Brian Uley just came over to her, even asked her if he could sit beside her before he did. When he asked her questions, he wanted to hear the answers. She'd never had anyone listen to her the way Brian had that day, not even Art.
But she'd told Brian, "I'm in love with your brother."
There'd been no way, she'd thought, that Brian would be interested in her. She wasn't a kid anymore and she knew all about the Uleys. She knew all about Brian and Dinah Black, and how they'd always be together, even if they weren't anymore. Other girls had tried. Vick had tried. He wasn't interested in any of them. But Ginger could maybe use his interest in her, whatever it was, to get his brother.
"He likes you, too," Brian said. "But don't tell him I said that."
It was the first of many secrets Brian asked her to keep.
Two months in and it was over between Ginger and Art.
They were two good months and Ginger always looked back on them fondly. They didn't see each other a lot but they messaged constantly—Art always had a lyric or two for her, sometimes stuff that he'd written, just for her, lines about a tough, beautiful, fearless chick that he just couldn't get out of his head. When they did get together it was mostly because of Brian, who'd drive Art over and leave them alone. He was working around Neah Bay and always remembered her name when they met up. Ginger liked him.
Her sisters laughed when she told them she was dating Art (too young, they declared him) but set about trying to get Brian out of the deal. Ginger remembered watching him with them, the way Brian looked like Art had, that first night, wanting to slip away. The joy she'd felt, knowing he didn't want them, surprised her. But even then, they were her boys. No one else's.
Mel had told Vick she'd watch the house in case Ginger's mom came back, that day, but she had gotten bored and taken off, so it was just Ginger and Art in her house. He was telling her about a new song he'd written and about Brian's friend Levi. Ginger knew Levi Black. Sort of. He'd gone with Mel once upon a time; he might even have hooked up with Vick at some point (Mel said so, but when Ginger asked Vick, all she said was, "Fuck Will," and Ginger never did work out if that was a yes or not). Her sisters had gone into great detail about Levi Black—he looked gigantic and terrifying, but his dick really was as big as his ego, and apparently he fucked like he didn't want you to forget. But as she sat on the couch, in her see-through shirt, her skirt riding up her thighs, she realized, listening to Art, she'd never heard quite that much about Levi Black before.
Ginger got up, sat down on Art's lap and kissed him.
They'd kissed before; Art was pretty good at it now, if she did say so herself. His ability to concentrate, to make her feel like she was the only one in the world while her lips were on him, made her shiver. She had a few thoughts about his fingers, too, his musicians fingers, but she never got around to doing anything about that because Art was a Uley and going impossibly slow was genetic, he said. And because Art kissed her back but…
Houston, there was a problem.
"You really like him, huh?"
If Ginger had money, she would have bet all of it that Art's entire body flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Levi. You really like him. More than you like me."
Ginger liked to pretend it was inevitable, that she always would have done the right thing. But she knew that it wasn't, knew that it really hurt, looking down at the boy who was good and sweet and nice and just didn't like her. If he'd said the wrong thing then, she would have ruined his whole life to get back at him.
But Art insisted: "I really like you, Ginger. You're the most amazing girl I know. I just—"
He couldn't maintain eye contact. His eyes ended up on her chest.
"You're scared of my boobs," she joked. It wasn't really a joke. Art looked too miserable for her to find it funny. "It's fine. Whatever. You just should have told me you'd rather kiss him."
"I don't—"
He was shaking underneath her. Ginger let herself fall off of him, though she curled against his side. It didn't take Art long to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "It's okay," she told him then because Art had walked all the way over the time she'd called him crying. If it wasn't okay for Art, she'd find some way to make it okay.
Ginger didn't know how long they sat there, how many times she repeated it. Eventually, he explained about Levi—he didn't like wearing clothes much, Levi, and he was kind of super proportional, but he was also just always there and always made things better and apparently everyone in La Push thought he was Jesus freaking Christ, too. Ginger kind of hated him on principle, but she didn't tell that to Art.
"I've never liked a girl the way I like you," Art said after awhile. "I thought—I guess I was hoping…maybe if I didn't know him. But I do—I'm really sorry, Ginger. I never meant—You think you can ever forgive me?"
"Whatever." But she didn't move from his side. "So we need to tell everyone I dumped your sorry ass because all your love songs were getting kind of creepy."
"Hey."
"And I expect an angry riot girl breakup song out of this, by the way."
"Promise. Thank you. So much. You don't know—thank you so, so, so much, Ginger."
"Stop it or I'll kick your ass," she told him.
Even after that, though, she kept calling him. It was habit, really, and she'd always liked talking to him. She had plenty of friends, especially a lot of guy friends, but Art was all the way in La Push and he was comforting the way no one else around her was.
The night he said to her, "You just want a gay best friend," she'd laughed at him. It must have taken him ages to work up the nerve to say the word out loud, so she had to laugh, to let him know she didn't give a shit. But afterwards, when they were quiet, she told him, "Some days my mom just doesn't come home."
"I'm sorry," Art said. And he really, really meant it. And he wouldn't ever tell anyone.
The first time Ginger met the twins, they ignored her, too busy playing with each other to bother with her. The second time she met them, she got in a screaming match with one of them because he just wouldn't shut up (and demanded every single second of attention, EVER, it felt like). The third time, sitting around a kitchen table, she thought maybe she could get along with them for the sake of Art and Brian.
The fourth time, Timmy asked if she wanted to play basketball with them.
By then, she could tell them apart. They looked less like twins and more like a freak show, identical down to their thick eyebrows, but it was easy enough to tell them apart, if you wanted, which she hadn't, because Timmy was the one that was talking and Tommy was the one who wasn't Timmy. She knew Timmy was talking to her and that Tommy was dribbling the basketball behind him, waiting for them to finish the conversation. Neither boy looked all that interested in having her around, but Brian wasn't going to let them play unless she came to, so there they all were.
"I don't play basketball," Ginger informed them. "Only losers play."
Timmy launched into a speech that she ignored while she wished Art had been around today. And she wondered when visiting the Uley house stopped being about seeing Art and started just being about not being at her empty house.
Tommy threw the basketball at her face.
Ginger deflected it, barely, so the stupid thing rolled down the driveway. "What the hell?!"
"You've never played before," Tommy said. He glanced at his brother, who said to her, "We can teach you, if you want. We're pretty awesome teachers and Art said you're a really quick study."
"Why would I want to learn how to play basketball?"
"Sacred?" Tommy asked her. He didn't smile as much as his brother, either, but he smiled then. She wanted to punch him. She almost did.
"You're going to regret this," she told him.
"We're regretting it already," Timmy informed her. His brother got the ball while Timmy pulled her in front of the basketball hoop. "All right, ready for the Uley twin spectacular all-star basketball camp for weirdos who never bothered to learn how to play basketball before?"
Tommy held the ball out to her.
"Whatever," she said as she grabbed the stupid thing.
Timmy and Tommy were Art's brothers. They were Brian's brothers. How bad could they be?
Brian had tried to explain imprinting to her; Brian sucked when it came to talking about the wolf stuff. He started whining about all the cool stuff they could do because Brian was an idiot. Brian was vague when he first explained imprinting to her, embarrassed the second time and just awkward the third—she understood it meant that Brian was hers forever and that he'd be red the entire time, when they ended up fucking.
Brian was the most sexually repressed guy she had ever met. Still, if that's what she had to deal with to get her own Uley, she'd take it.
Levi tried to explain imprinting to her in greater detail afterwards, to make up for Brian, but he'd just ended up confusing them both.
If Ginger had been in charge she would have sent Will or Bert next. Bert could explain anything, eventually, even though he hated to talk, and Will could explain anything, as long as you weren't squeamish about how he said it. She suspected Baxter thought he was protecting both of them, like either one of them was the kind of guy who broke down at the smallest hint that once upon a time they knew someone who had the indecency to die (like they weren't the sort of guys who knew a little pain was acceptable, if you could remember those quiet, happy, brief moments before it got, well, the way it was). Not that she said that to Baxter. She just shut up and listened.
Imprinting meant she belonged to the pack.
Once, they thought it meant she'd be with the wolf who imprinted on her. Now, they weren't sure. They thought it just meant she and Brian would be very important to each other's lives. It didn't have to be about sex.
Ginger wasn't an idiot.
Everything was about sex
(unless you were a Uley boy and maybe that's what her sisters were talking about—but if Brian was her imprint then…well, it wouldn't be the first time she'd met a guy who treated her like a kid and then tried to fuck her; Ginger decided it didn't matter either way; she'd do whatever the hell Brian wanted as long as it meant she could keep all her Uley boys).
The second she moved to La Push, the twins invited her to run with them. Well, Timmy invited her along and Tommy didn't stop him, even though he must have thought Ginger had forgotten what his real name was because she liked saying Lassie too much (he'd start grinding his teeth and then he'd try pulling her hair, hard, but she was getting faster, so now he had to run if he wanted to catch her).
It didn't take her long to realize Timmy had asked her along so he didn't have to run with his brother by himself. It wasn't that Timmy didn't think he could keep up—just that he didn't want to every single day of the week. But if moving to La Push had taught her that Art desperately needed her around when he had a crush and that Brian was just pathetic when it came to women despite being built like a brick house, it had also taught her that the twins didn't do things apart.
They also, she had noticed very quickly, tended to do what Timmy wanted.
Because Timmy would talk and Tommy wouldn't; because Tommy didn't care and Timmy did; because that's just the way they were used to. So even though he hated it, Timmy ran with his brother every day because it was the one thing Tom said he wanted.
And the second Timmy could get someone else to help him...well, if Ginger was there, too, it didn't matter if Timmy needed the day to recover, right?
Ginger rolled her eyes, but by the time she realized Timmy's complaining had been semi-serious, she got why Lassie was so into it. Running made everything simpler.
Of course, running made everything more complicated, too.
But that was just because she was running with Uleys.
Uleys made everything more complicated.
Because of Brian, because she was Brian's imprint, Ginger got to hang around the rest of the pack from time to time.
She was supposed to be scared of Levi and Will. Everyone was supposed to be scared of Will; Will was scary so the rest of the pack didn't have to be. And Levi was bigger than big and stronger than strong and even though everyone around La Push believed (he was God Almighty) he wouldn't hurt anything that didn't deserve it, people were still just a little bit uneasy around him because he was just so damn big. But Ginger wasn't scared of either of them.
For the most part, she was more comfortable around them than the rest of the pack and its various groupies (Bert excepted because Bert was the most comfortable person to be around, ever; Dinah Black was a lucky whore). She didn't feel like she was hitting a puppy when she talked to them; they didn't find her language or her stories cringe worthy, something to be swept under the rug so no one would see. The two of them even occasionally appreciated her sense of humour, which couldn't be said for any of the Uleys (and especially not for Dinah Black, who had a better 'shut your fucking mouth' face than Ginger's mother).
It was hard to be scared of Will when he found her endlessly amusing. "I remember Levi at puberty, sweetheart. You keep trying to shock me. It's cute," he said to her once. They annoyed the hell out of each other (he was a total ass), but it was impossible to be scared of someone who thought you were adorable.
Levi was even less scary, for all that he was twice as big. While Brian stuttered and struggled over explaining the wolf stuff, Ginger managed to figure a lot of it out. And what she understood was this—Levi Black was never going to hurt her. She was pack; Levi might growl and scream and threaten, but he would never, ever, ever hurt her. She'd never known a guy like that in her entire life who wasn't a Uley, so she wasn't scared of him. Besides, he was so much fun to be around she forgot to be scared.
The only one in the pack she found scary was Baxter.
Oh, Baxter was a Uley through and through. He was kind and courteous and occasionally made her think he had fallen out of an old-timey novel. He was bigger than Brian, sure, and Ginger privately thought he must be a better fighter than Brian (from watching the twins, she had a good idea of how a guy moved when he could throw a good looking punch and how a guy moved when he could throw a punch that hurt), but that didn't scare her. Levi wouldn't let him hurt her.
Also, Baxter was dating Judy Black and Judy was like a really tall, not-blue smurf. Or maybe something else, equally annoying and also a little squeaky. She was just so nice. It was revolting. But it should have made being scared of Baxter impossible, because how could Ginger possibly ever be scared of a guy when she had watched him hold Judy—bouncy, bright, disgustingly happy all the freaking time Judy—on his lap, letting her draw smiley faces with icing on his cheeks and then lick it off?
Ginger shouldn't have been able to keep a straight face around Baxter, afterwards, let alone be scared of him.
But she stayed away from Baxter.
(Baxter sat her down at the table and said her marks were unacceptable; Baxter said he'd never bring it up again if she just tried studying, just once, just to see how she did; she threw the test out the second she got it, but the twins must have told him anyway—she didn't need Baxter telling her it mattered because she wasn't a Uley. She was going to end up with three kids she didn't want and a string of boyfriends who thought she was getting fat in a house she only got because no one thought she could destroy it worse than it already was and because someone wanted to fuck her underage daughter and no amount of Baxter saying she could do better was going to change that)
When she was fourteen and they were thirteen, Ginger raced the Uley twins along the coast. It was Timmy's idea because while he thought running had no point, racing he understood completely. Tom set it up, because he had to handle the details because Timmy just got distracted all the time. It was fifteen hundred feet long, give or take.
They could have all raced at once, but Ginger didn't really want to go home that day, so she'd asked them to prolong the game. They raced one-on-one. Because Tim liked the idea of running more than actually doing it, he sat the first race out.
Ginger ran against Tom as hard as she could, pumping her legs as fast as they would go, breathing deeply, trying to remember everything he'd mentioned about her crappy technique in the past. The wind caught in her hair and she just pushed back against it, she was good at pushing, gasping from the effort of going that fast.
Tom beat her by at least fifteen seconds.
He didn't rub it in. Tom liked winning but he didn't like rubbing it in your face that he'd won. He just won. They walked back slowly, taking their time, knowing one of them would be up against Tim when they got back. He told her to pump her arms more; she told him to shut the fuck up; he let her ride piggyback the last half because the starting line was so fucking far.
Once they got back, she probably should have rested some more, but hyped on adrenaline Ginger insisted they get the show on the road. Timmy started setting up their race like they were in a fight to the death and Ginger rolled her eyes at him and took her mark.
Ginger ran against Timmy while she was already out of breath, muscles protesting when they realized she wanted to torture them again so soon. The first hundred meters were okay, but the last four hundred her legs felt like rubber. Her lungs burned. By the time she got to the finish line, her spit was thick and disgusting in her mouth.
Ginger beat Timmy by ten seconds (well, at least eight).
Timmy let her rub it in, listing off a reason for his loss in his customary rapid fire way. He liked winning, but he didn't need it. Ginger wasn't like either of the twins—when she didn't win she threw fits and yelled and was generally a pain in the ass. Well, she was generally a pain in the ass, anyway, they always said.
The boys took their time setting up, letting Tim get his breath back, letting themselves rest up. Ginger, waiting by the finish line for them to get going already, was getting annoyed by the time they finally started running.
The twins tied.
Okay, so, Tom won by a hair. It was close enough that if Ginger hadn't been by the finish line, she might have had trouble guessing, though.
Ginger yelled at Tom for a good five minutes and then Timmy started yelling back and half an hour later she marched into Brian's house and started crying and Tom wouldn't talk to her for a week. She decided then and there that she hated the twins.
"You shouldn't be mad at him for not letting you win," Brian told her on the drive home. Ginger rolled her eyes and stared out the window and decided Brian was even dumber than his dumb ass brothers.
At least Art still liked her.
"You're kind of dumb, you know," he said to her when he came over that night (it was easier to talk at her place than his; no dumb brothers around; no anyone around). "You're lucky I love you."
"Fuck you," she said. "You're dumber. Which one of us still hasn't slept with his boyfriend?"
"His dad would kill him if we got caught."
"You don't know that."
"He already treats him like—" But you weren't allowed to talk shit about the werewolves. Or ex-werewolves. It was a thing, in La Push. "And he doesn't even know...and who knows what my dad would do."
"Look disappointed you were engaging in fun and stoically continue on with whatever he was doing?"
Sam always looked disappointed, but maybe that was just because she was around. Fuck him. Tom had told her about the year before Art started high school, when their sister worked three jobs while she went to school since Brian had just phased and they still ended up 'borrowing' food from around town because no one would just fucking help (because that would mean talking about shit). When she'd said that made Sam an ass, he'd gotten pissed, because Uleys hated when you said shit about Sam, but he hadn't gotten as pissed as the others might have and she'd gotten exactly how much Sam had managed to hurt them, worse than the being hungry. So fuck Sam.
"That or disown me."
He said it like a joke. It wasn't.
Ginger always figured each time she saw her mom was probably going to be the last time. She didn't quite get it. Whatever. He didn't come over so they could mope. Leave that for brooding Brian.
"So you'll just stick to sucking his dick?"
"I'm pretty good at it," Art said, bragging just a little. Uley's could brag, though they rarely did; but when they did it meant they were really, really good and it was a bad idea to bet against them.
"You were taught by an expert."
Art rolled his eyes at her and she giggled. What did she need the twins for? It's not she could talk like that to them. She wasn't even sure if they understood she was a girl. She was pretty sure they didn't understand sex. Uleys were really slow when it came to sex. It's why she always figured she'd be over the hill by the time Brian figured out he wanted to fuck her.
Whatever. It's not like Brian understood anything.
Not that she cared.
The next time she was at the Uley's, E was there. She was Brian's girlfriend and for the sheer balls of dating Dinah Black's boyfriend when even Vick and Mel were too scared, Ginger decided she had to like E. It helped the woman made the best brownies known to mankind.
"Brian still mad?"
"I'm his girlfriend, not his secretary."
"Could you explain it to him?" Ginger asked, poking at the bag of flour. "I don't think he gets it."
"Gets what?"
"You know."
"No, Ginger. I won't know until you tell me." Ester went back to stirring something, even though she kept her eyes on Ginger. So Ginger told her. All E said was: "I thought it was weird when Brian said you wanted the boys to let you win."
"Thanks, Cookie." It was a sign of how Timmy's stupidity was catching. E cooked; somehow she had become Cookie. Ginger was only a little bit sure it didn't make her a total loser. "I don't want anyone letting anyone win."
"You didn't have to yell," E said. She was busy cooking, but she didn't expect Ginger to help. She'd ask if she wanted help, not just expect you to offer just because you were there. E preferred doing her own thing by herself. Ginger respected that.
"It looked like a freaking tie," Ginger snapped, feeling the familiar anger rising up her throat. "Do you know how much he'd have to hold back to make it look like a tie? And he always does it. Drives me nuts."
"I think he's starting to understand that about you."
"He should get it faster. Whatever. If he wants to lose, let him lose. It's not like I care."
"Don't be dumb, Ginger, if you can help it."
E said that to her a lot. The funny thing, Ginger thought, the thing that no one else probably believed, was that E thought she could help it. E wouldn't have made macaroons , Ginger's favourites, just in case Ginger happened by, if she didn't think that.
"So what am I supposed to do?" Ginger asked. Ester didn't say answer. "Fine. I'll go apologize. Geez."
For those stupid Uley boys, Ginger would have done anything.