you can call it love if you want

Mumford & Sons, "Wilder Mind"

thirty-three.

(Jacob)

A week passes, slowly and painfully. In more ways than one.

It is a week of patrols, a week of readjusting to the wolf after days and days of denying it. A week of readjusting to the pack and its Alpha who Jacob decidedly hates as much as he knows he is hated in return.

It is a week of waiting — waiting, and more waiting, for the redheaded sucker to appear. The bitch still hasn't come back, which means that patrol is so fucking boring without having something to hunt and chase and sink his teeth into, and it's driving him absolutely goddamn insane.

It is a week of, quite literally, running around in circles for hours at a time, feeling useless, wishing that the bitch-leech would appear, that any leech would appear — or even that the Cullens would just go ahead and breach the treaty already. That way it would at least give him something to do, something to kill. And he'd have purpose. A reason why he has allowed his life to upended again.

Insane. He's going insane.

He knows he's not alone. The whole pack are clawing at their skin, itching for a fight they can all practically taste with the Cullens being so goddamn near again, but they can't do anything about it. They can't even rally to drive the bloodsuckers out, and that makes it all the more worse.

The whole thing is grating on Jacob harder than his brothers; he's already tried to escape this bullshit; he has tried to leave this life behind, but instead he's found himself stuck in much the same routine he was in before. And for what?

(A purpose. A reason. That's all he wants.)

He has been fighting with Paul more than he ever has before because of it, needing to take his frustration and his anger and his rage out on something, someone. Luckily, Paul has always been a more than willing subject. It's almost as if the guy likes having his hide beaten into next year.

It also helps that Paul is too easy to rile up — especially when Jacob wins every single fight they have and Paul only gets even angrier because of it. Some days, all he has to do to get Paul to lunge at him is bare his teeth.

It gets so bad that, after days of constant violence, Sam is forced to split them up permanently. He has finally learned that whilst he can command Paul to stop fighting, he can't command Jacob — not to do anything, no matter how hard he tries, because Alpha-Orders roll right off Jacob's back.

The realisation scares the living shit right out of Sam (and it scares the shit out of Jacob, too, knowing that he can't be controlled) but all Sam can do is start scheduling Jacob to run opposite patrols to Paul to keep them apart.

Jacob doesn't even go to Emily's anymore, so it's almost like they don't exist for one another, him and Paul, but the temporary band-aid Sam has applied does nothing to soothe the burning Jacob feels. At least Paul had been taking the edge off a bit.

The only thing that helps, the only thing at all, is going home to Leah. Day after day, night after night.

(The one night had turned into two, then three, then four and five and six . . . and now it's seven — seven nights that Jacob hasn't seen his own bed — and he honestly can't say how he coped without her before all this. He has never slept as soundly, is never more in control of his wolf than he is when she is with him.)

It's two in the morning when he finally has a spare minute to hoist himself through her window and slide into bed next to her — and suddenly he is calm, and he can breathe. Her scent and his scent, their scent is all around him, welcoming him back. Welcoming him home.

Leah reaches for him in sleep the same time he reaches for her, and, just like that, everything in the world is right again. Jacob just wishes that it could be permanently so.

She mumbles incoherently, curling in close as he settles down and opens his arms up. And after a minute of her nose pressing into his chest and his hand stroking her long hair, she eventually rises to some sort of semi-consciousness and winds her arms around him as tightly as she is able.

"Window?" she asks sleepily, body arching against his to close any of the impossible distance left between them.

For most of the week — in between stolen hours of kissing and laughing and more kissing, between the stolen hours he lives for — Leah has been chewing his ear off to use the front door like a normal person. He has even been offered a key, but there's something about striding into the Clearwaters' house after dark that makes him feel like an intruder. And he's not normal, not exactly, so he chews her ear off to start locking the door and simply insists he'll use the window when it's needed.

('That,' he'd told her, 'is what a "normal" person would, honey — you know, so you don't get robbed, or eaten by zombies, or kidnapped by witches, because fuck-knows-what else is out there,' and she had just rolled her eyes with her usual air of superiority and argued that a locked door wasn't going to stop the supernatural. That Billy had offered her a key first, even though the Blacks' door hasn't been locked in years.

Well. She kind of had him there. But then she'd kissed him senseless, so Jake had let her take the win.)

Besides, using the sneaky way up the tree and through the window left open just for him feels sort of teenager-ish, like something he should be doing to avoid uncomfortable run-ins with his girlfriend's family members on the stairs. Right?

Not that he would know about that. He is a teenager and yet not; he's a sixteen-year-old in a body that's seven, eight years older than it should be. Nothing is normal.

"Mm-hm. Go back to sleep," he says quietly. "I can't stay long. I didn't want to wake you."

Leah pulls her head back, suddenly alert and searching for his face in the quiet dark. Except Jacob's body follows hers and his face drops into the crook of her neck, his nose right where her pulse is and beats right through him.

"What's happened?" she asks against his ear, soft and gentle. One of her hands starts rubbing the space between his shoulder blades, an instinctive reaction to whatever tangled emotions he is drowning her in, and . . . He doesn't want to deal, he just doesn't. An hour. That's all he wants. An hour with her.

He's quiet for long enough that she lays her head back down and brings her with him, almost cradling him at her side. "Jake?"

"Collin Littlesea and Brady Fuller phased tonight," he says into her skin. Although it happened yesterday, now, he supposes, not long after sunset.

"Oh, Jake . . ."

"It's — it's messy, having two new . . . At the same time, too — it happened literally within, like, an hour of each other . . . So much messier than . . ." The tears that burn behind his eyelids from residual pain of his new brothers' first phase makes him feel pathetic. He should be long used to this by now, long used to lives being ruined around him. "They're thirteen. Both of them. And they keep — I don't know, feeding off each other's fear and — it's messy," he says again. "So messy."

Leah keeps rubbing at that same spot, slow and comforting. "Where's Sam?"

"With Brady. Quil, too. Me and Embry and Seth are with Collin, because Sam thought it might be easier with him being family — but we've been trying to calm them both down for hours now and they're so young and . . . It's going to be a long night. I might not be able to come by for a while. Sorry."

She kisses his head but keeps her mouth there, breathing deep. "Don't apologise."

"Just wanted to see you for a second," he mumbles, utterly spent. The screaming is an endless echo in his head.

"I know," she says against his hair. Her hands are suddenly everywhere, warm and soft and calming as opposed to his that are anchored at her waist. Like she's smoothing every inch of his suffering away. "It's alright. How long have you got?"

He sighs and burrows in closer. "Not long. Hour, maybe. Embry needs a break, too; we'd already been on since lunch, but we can't leave now. We're all kind of in this one 'til Jared and Paul can spring two of us. Then I'll go home and check on Dad and then — then it'll start all over again, I s'pose. Just wanted to see you," he repeats, warbling now. "I'm so tired."

Leah's hands disappear for a moment as she reaches for the comforter around their legs and drags it upwards, draping it over the thin sheets and over his back, tucking it into their sides, effectively cocooning them together. They both run too warm now for thick duvets but this — this is nice in ways his exhausted brain can't yet compute.

"Sleep for an hour, then," she tells him, and even as tired as he is it's still extraordinary to him that her commands hold more weight than his Alpha's. Already he feels himself slipping into unconsciousness. "I'll wake you."

"You need to—"

"I'll wake you," she says again, soft yet insistent, and her fingers begin gently threading through his hair in the way she has already learned he likes best. "Sleep, Jake."

It's little effort to obey.

(Leah)

Her life begins to fall into a pattern — enough that she starts to find some comfort and reassurance in it — and by the end of the month, Leah is almost considering herself settled.

After so long of feeling off-balance, it's weird. Really weird.

She has all these certainties now, all these promises and this . . . inevitably in her life — about her life. So much so that her head is still spinning after a whole month, that sometimes even in her darkest moments (although they are becoming less few and far between with each passing week) she still feels like she still can't trust any of it.

She still misses her dad, will always miss him, and she wishes that she knew what he would have to say about his children joining the world he kept secret for all his life. He would probably be as proud as Billy and raise a beer with him, she thinks, but not before threatening Jacob to within an inch of his life — regardless of whether Jacob had imprinted or not.

It makes her smile to think of it — and then sometimes she cries, too, but only when she is alone and she knows that Jacob is too far away to feel her pain, when there's no chance of him barrelling through the door to save her. She takes great care to ensure they can both still function, even with their freaky sixth sense, but somehow they never go more than twelve hours without seeing each other.

Twelve hours, and no more. That's how long she knows she will have to wait, at most, until he reappears again. Jacob's need to mollify the imprint never keeps him away for longer than that.

Sometimes he stays for the whole afternoon, sometimes from dusk until dawn. Sometimes he is only able to stay for ten minutes. Sometimes, at night, he pulls himself through her window and falls asleep almost as soon as he curls up on the bed with her, and sometimes he's gone again by the time she wakes up. But she knows he's always going to come back.

Promises. Certainties. Inevitability.

Jacob will always, always come back.

And in the hours he is not around, she has constant reassurance that at least either Seth or Embry or Quil will be — and sometimes Collin and Brady too, depending on who is tasked with babysitting them. Sometimes Leah wonders, now that she is so used to having company all the time, how she's going to cope if she ever suddenly has to start whiling away the hours on her own again.

She has to find something for herself, something to remind herself that she is more than this person who waits on other people. Before Jacob (because it is always before Jacob now, and never after Sam) she had become too-used to her loneliness — almost to the point where she had enjoyed it, the peace and quiet, and she had even found herself getting annoyed when that silence was disturbed. She needs to find some middle ground.

So she makes a decision: come Monday, she is going back to school.

There is little point to her graduating, really, not now she's given up on the idea of ever joining Rachel at U-Dub and there's less than a few months left in her senior year, but she knows it'll make her mom happy at least. (And it does. Sue's worry lines almost disappear entirely during the minute she talks with the school to inform them, and afterwards she tells Leah how proud she is of her.) And it's not as if she will have to endure the classroom for too long; after all, graduation is only two months away. She'll have to study her ass off, and she will hate every minute of it, sure, but it'll be worth it if her mom doesn't have to worry so much. For the bit of paper she'll receive to prove that she's done something with her life — even if she barely scrapes a passing grade after being absent for six weeks.

For days, Leah continues to try and tell herself that it will be a good thing. Her mom will be happier, her life will start opening up, and it is the right idea to create some distance between her and Jacob — though part of her will forever refuse that idea — but also between her and the new pack that seems to have formed around her.

No — not around her. Around Jacob.

It's almost like . . . a pack within the pack. Wherein Jacob is the Alpha, and Embry is his undisputed Second, whilst Quil and Seth unofficially share the role as Third. It is fairly interchangeable, depending on who is around, though it seems like Seth is inclined to take more of a backseat when they're all together. The kid absolutely idolises the older boys and their relationship, and he has put all three of them on a pedestal.

It wouldn't be that bad of an idea for him to get some distance, either.

Leah tells him as much, and then she tells him that she's going to give it to him. She is sending him back to school, too.

She listens patiently as her little brother rants and raves for nearly a whole hour. The guys need him, he says. He needs them. He's a man now, he professes; he's old enough to hunt vampires and protect the reservation, and he's probably missed so much school that he'll never be able to catch up anyway. He won't go — not even if she drags him by the tail to the door herself. She can't force him. She can't, she won't.

Leah rubs her forehead, the image of pulling Seth by his tail — if not his ear — all too tempting. "Are you finished?"

"You're not making him go back to school!" he whines, jabbing a finger over to Jacob who is trying, and failing, to look inconspicuous against the wall.

"He's not my little brother who's going to be a bum for the rest of his life all because he thought he was too important to get his diploma."

"So I'll get my GED! He isn't going to get his diploma," Seth argues.

"He isn't fourteen-years-old," she counters, her patience waning, "and his sisters aren't around to kick his ass for it."

"It's not your decision anyway," Seth continues over her, "it's Sam's!"

"I've already checked with His Lordship about it," she says. But it's a lie; she's done nothing of the sort. Jacob had had the conversation with Sam for her — all she'd had to do was make the suggestion. "And he agrees. You're going back to school. Monday morning. If I have to drag you along with me, then I will."

"God, Leah, you're not Mom!"

Leah gives her brother a level look. "Try me. Go and spew all the shit what you've just said to me to her. You tell her that you're prepared to die for a pale-faced bitch, and you just see what I'll do to you," she warns severely, her patience now evaporated. "It is not a game out there, Seth. It is dangerous. You are fourteen-years-old."

"You don't even know what it's like 'out there'! All you do is sit on your ass all day! Tell her, Jake!"

"Don't look at me, kid." Jacob seems to shrink further into the wall. "I'm staying out of it."

Seth growls underneath his breath, seething, but Leah knows that she's won as he throws his hands up and storms out of the kitchen. And when he throws open the front door, pointedly slamming it behind him so forcefully that she's sure the windows are rattling in his wake, she lets loose a long and weary sigh.

"Thanks for the help," she mutters into the fraught silence, back to massaging her temples.

There's a smirk in Jake's voice as he replies, "I thought you had it handled." And then, cheerfully, "It's kind of refreshing to see the little punk so angry for a change. Hope he doesn't tear into his teacher like that, or else everyone's going to know why he's been out so long."

Leah groans. "Not helping."

Jacob laughs and comes to sit in the chair beside her. "I'm only joking, honey. He'll be fine. We've all gotta go back at some point."

"I've been waiting my whole life to embarrass him at his graduation. So — so don't do what I said and die, or something," she says shakily, "because if you do then he'll never graduate, and it'll be all your fault."

"Nobody's going to die, honey."

Leah sighs again. "If he doesn't graduate, I'll kill him."

Jacob reaches for her hands, coaxing her off her chair and onto his lap. "Nobody's going to die," he says again, wrapping one arm soundly around her waist. And when she refuses to meet his gaze, he lifts her chin up with a thumb and forefinger. He is so gentle that it makes her anger and her dread almost dissipate entirely.

"You don't trust me?"

"I do," she assures him. And then at his raised eyebrows, she adds, "I do trust you, Jake. But you can't promise me that you're not going to get hurt. None of you can."

His eyebrows reach higher, his lips curving. "Are you going to put me back in school, too?"

"If only I could," she mutters. "Even you have to agree that doing your homework is better than risking your neck week after week. If you die for her . . . "

Leah hears her own voice trail off with a strangled noise, unable to stomach the thought.

"For the pale-face?" Jacob finishes for her, still holding her chin.

"I think you'll find I said bitch," she says pointedly. "Pale-faced bitch. I don't hear about her lot offering them up as bait to catch her stalker. Where are they in all of this?"

Jacob shakes his head, the hint of another smile forming. "Bella wouldn't do that — she's too self-sacrificing. She'd offer herself up first."

"She's a doormat, you mean," Leah interjects. So what if she sounds a little petulant.

Save for his lips twitching in his amusement, Jake pretends that he doesn't hear her. "Secondly," he continues, brushing his thumb over her lips, "I think it's Edward who is more likely to sacrifice the pack if it serves his best interest."

"You're not doing anything to alleviate my concerns over here."

"Sorry, honey." He kisses each corner of her mouth, soft and fleeting, and brushes her hair from her face. "I promise, you have nothing to worry about. The redhead isn't stupid enough to get herself caught — and she's not stupid enough to engage with us, either. If she ever does, she'll find that she's sorely outnumbered. And," he adds as Leah rakes in a lungful of air to protest, "if she brings a few friends with her, considering we killed her last one, then I swear we can all look after ourselves. We always do."

Leah pouts, if only to tempt him into kissing her again. "It's not everyone I'm worried about."

"Seth will be fine. Sam's agreed about him going back to school, and he's going to keep him at home studying as much as possible. Collin and Brady, too — in a few weeks, anyway, once they have enough control. And you'll be there at school to help them when they do. So stop worrying, yeah?"

"But if Sam changes his mind—"

Jacob shakes his head. "He won't. He listens to you. He's much too frightened of the alternative."

"Frightened," she scoffs.

"Well, he is. You know he'd pretty much do anything you ask if it would make you happy."

"If it makes his life easier, you mean," she corrects flippantly.

Jacob shrugs his shoulders at her, unable to bring himself to fight with her over it. The imprint binds him too tightly to allow anything else.

Although this thing between them is still very new, they're yet to have any kind of real argument and sometimes Leah wishes that he would argue back. There's not even been a teensy-tiny disagreement between them (not about anything that matters, anyway, because stuff like putting the toilet seat down doesn't count), and quite honestly it's bugging the hell out of her — if only because she wants him to tell her how he really feels without being silenced by his compulsive need to just agree with her all the damn time.

That being said, she knows when to pick her battles. So Leah winds her arms around Jacob's neck, and she tries to erase the frown lines from his face by cheering him up instead.

"Shall I ask him to jump off a cliff?" she asks sweetly.

It doesn't work. "He'd survive," Jacob mutters moodily.

"I'll tell him to wait until the tide is out, then."

Jacob smiles, but it is forced — it's more of a grimace, tight with pain and fury, the same way his expression always turns whenever they talk about Sam.

For all they might joke about it — about him — Leah knows Jacob tries his hardest to not dwell on the way Sam still claims he feels about her, she knows he does, but she is also keenly aware that matters aren't being helped now that the two of them are sharing the pack mind again.

It doesn't seem to make a difference that Sam is still putting every effort into scheduling Jacob on opposite rotations to Paul— and is now including himself in that, too, because they cannot stand to be near each other. Not when the afterburn of their thoughts linger in everyone else's minds. What Sam thinks of when running with Quil, for example, is what Quil thinks of when he's next with Jacob. Especially if it's about her. Especially if he's trying to hide it.

Jacob has likened the pack mind to an endless echo. Apparently if someone actively tries not to think about something, it only makes it ten times worse. And even though an Alpha supposedly has the ability to better protect his thoughts so he can therefore better control his wolves, Sam is reportedly struggling more than ever.

(Privately, Leah thinks Sam is struggling because he's not supposed to be Alpha — an issue they have all become more painfully aware of since what they all now just refer to as 'The Fight'. And it seems to her — from an outsider's perspective, at least — that Sam's control is slipping further with every week that passes.

It's like sand in an hourglass. Surely, it's only a matter of time until he loses it entirely.

But she doesn't dare say as much to Jacob. He has made it perfectly clear that he will never claim his birthright, and even though she thinks he will be an incredible Alpha she has learned not to push the idea. He shuts down the idea whenever she brings it up.)

It also doesn't help that she and Jacob have still not talked about him specifically. Sam. Because Jake just about loses his head every time she skirts around the subject.

Still, she tries anyway.

"Thank you for talking to him about Seth for me," she says quietly. "I won't ask you to do it again. If I need something in future then I'll go to him myself, okay?"

Jacob pulls her closer, holding tightly enough to leave bruises, face hardening. "I don't want him anywhere near you."

Leah cups his face with both hands because she understands what it really is he's trying to say. It would be easier to bring Jacob out of this bad mood, to make a wisecrack and elicit the sunny smiles she loves so much, but they have to talk about this eventually. And she wants him to understand her. Needs him to understand her, to understand this.

"He's not going to take me away, Jake." She holds his eyes, her gaze steady but imploring. "I'd kill him if he tried."

A low rumble resonates through the kitchen, and the chair underneath them creaks. "You're not the only one."

"But he's not going to try," she barrels on as if she's not heard the reply, "because he can't. He told me. You know this — you must have heard it from the others. What he said."

Jacob looks away, his fury like thunder. "He said that he lo—"

"I know what he said," she tells him gently, his cheeks blazing with anger underneath her palms. "He also said that he can't leave Emily. He won't. And I don't want him to. I wouldn't want him even if he did. Don't you believe that yet?"

With his full lips pressed in a tight line, Jake sighs through his nose. And then, with a level of defeat telling her that she has won, he looks into her eyes and says, "I do."

She nods. "So you have to let go of this . . . this fear that he's going to win. I haven't wanted Sam for a very long time, and I won't ever want him. No matter how much he thinks I might or how much he claims he still feels."

Jacob's throat bobs, and whatever he intends to say next starts off strained. "But—"

"No. I don't care. It's not happening," she declares firmly, hands dropping to curl over and rest on his shoulders. "Jake, even if you hadn't imprinted on me I wouldn't want him. It's far too late for any of that."

"But—" he starts again.

"You don't trust me?" she asks, throwing his own words back at him.

"It's him I don't trust."

"He's not going to do anything. He can't do anything. You know that just as well as I do."

"But—" he says for a third time, and she sighs.

"If you want to beat a dead wolf," she says, slipping out of his grasp and off his lap and over to where the dirty dishes are awaiting her, "by all means, carry on."

Finally, finally, she hears the tiniest of chuckles break through. "I think you mean a dead horse, honey."

"I don't see any horses," she says over the running water.

Jacob doesn't make a sound as he gets off his chair and comes to stand behind her. He loops his arms around her midriff and rests his chin on the top of her head, even as she begins washing the dishes. "Smart ass."

She bites back a smile he can't see. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Like I said. Smart ass."

But it's her smart mouth, her teasing that she uses to pull him out of the despair and fear and guilt that plagues him — and it does work; it makes her feel triumphant, invincible, because only she can do it.

Maybe that's why they are mated: they can match each other blow for blow, can bring each other back to the surface. God knows how often he has done it for her, even if he's not aware of just how many times he has. Even if it's just something like holding her whilst she cries or braiding her hair for her whilst she's trying to rally her courage.

Jake remains wrapped around her whilst she clears the sink, and she lets him because she knows that he needs this, too. Ever since he joined the pack and opened up to his wolf again, his displays of physical affection have increased tenfold.

It's not until she turns off the faucet that he speaks again.

"You're right."

"I always am," she replies loftily, turning around in his arms and looking up at him. "But what about this time?"

He flicks her nose, smiling. He feels softer, looks calmer. "You know what."

Leah pokes her tongue out. "They care about you, Jake. And I know you don't think he does but Sam does, too — for all of you. He's not going to do anything to jeopardise his pack when you're already causing as much trouble as you are," she says.

He shrugs. "Still. I could live without him. Without all of them."

"Liar."

"I could. Maybe," he backtracks. "Before."

Before. Because it is different now; she's seen the way the brothers work in tandem, how they move in perfect rhythm without thought. Even just within the four walls of her house. And she might be considered part of their pack, and they may very well extend that consideration to Emily and Kim, too, but it is the boys who are really that one, solid unit.

"Embry, Quil, Seth," Jacob continues, pausing only to sigh dramatically as he lifts her up onto the counter and leans into her, teasing and distracting in a completely different way — the way he always is when they are alone. "I suppose they can stay."

Leah smiles, thinking back to when she'd once threatened to steal them away before Quil had phased. They had opted to put Embry in the trunk of the Rabbit. "And Paul?" she asks, her new smirk daring as she wraps her legs around his waist.

Jacob grunts half-hearted contempt, only half paying attention as his fingers span over her backside. "I suppose if you ever wanted to snap at him, maybe, bring him down a peg or two, I wouldn't stop you."

"I think that's a job for someone who can defend themselves against his teeth," she says, pointedly nipping at his earlobe.

"That's just it, though. If you did it, he probably wouldn't even be mad." Jacob's mouth twists, a struggle between bewilderment and annoyance and a little bit of something else. "He likes you. He's a pain in everyone's ass — even the girls, sometimes — but recently . . . When you're around he's almost nice. It's started to make it very difficult to hate him the way I used to. Even when I kick his ass."

Leah grins, wicked and daring, knowing exactly what boundaries she is pushing as she shifts further forward on the counter. "Such a jealous thing, aren't you."

The scowl she earns is expected. "Maybe," he answers. And then, "Fine, I am. I can't help it. They all love you. They're taking bets on how long it takes for you to get annoyed with me and kick my ass."

"Let me guess. Paul's betting low."

"By graduation, at least," Jacob grumbles, mouthing at her neck now. "Honeymoon period wearing off, and all that. Think he just wants to have you for himself. He loves a challenge."

Leah arches an eyebrow, feeling the echo of her smile still on her face. "I'm not some tree for you boys to piss on, you know. Go mark your territory elsewhere."

"That, right there," he says, unable to help his chuckle in spite of himself and the rising mood. "That is exactly the kind of thing you should say to Paul."

She pulls back. "No! He'll just laugh!"

"And yet if I said it to him, he'd sink his teeth into me."

"Yeah, well," she says drily, "you are exceptionally annoying. If they'd bothered to ask me, I would have put my money on the end of the week."

Jacob simply pulls a face at her which she quickly returns, and then he is kissing her, and their muffled laughter that follows stays with her for the rest of the day.

A/N: Imagine my horror when I was making my edits for this filler (I had to get up to speed with Eclipse's timeline, I have no regrets) and remembered that in New Moon (chapter six), we are told this: 'Leah was a senior like [Bella], but a year older. She was beautiful in an exotic way—perfect copper 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.'

I had written a whole scene about her getting a job, too!

Unfortunately any material provided about the Quileute Tribal School is limited to its website and is fairly minimal. And I can't research if the information isn't there, so save for final exams and graduation (things like that are pretty much a universal idea — right?) I will be skipping over the whole ordeal as much as I can and will soon edit any reference to Leah already having graduated in previous chapters. I hope you understand. But at least the real action can finally begin now!