Bonus Epilogue Part 2, taking place 15 years after Jacob Benjamin was born.
Jacobi
After we helped set up everybody's camps, and Dad went inside to take a shower or a nap or both, I took a seat next to Uncle Seth. "I can't believe you gave up boxing. You were developing a mean knockout punch," he said.
"Basketball is fun, and I'm not bragging, but I'm good at it, Uncle. Really good."
That was the truth about basketball, but I didn't really give up boxing. I just gave up boxing with my dad. My parents didn't know that three times a week, during the basketball off season, I took an Uber to a neighboring town's gym, where people didn't know me and my dad, just to train like a nobody.
Because of my height, the lady behind the counter believed me when I lied about my age.
"You got a baby face for sixteen." I paid her the daily price of ten dollars to use the gym. "If you get a membership, you'll save loads of money, and if you plan on sparring, you'll need paperwork. Your parents need to sign permission forms, provide your physical and a medical release."
"I'm just here to work out. No sparring for me."
I got nervous when the training manager watched me work out and approached me as I was leaving. "Hey kid! How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"How long have you been boxing?"
"Since I was eight." In actuality, my dad worked with me on minor boxing skill development since I was a toddler. "I boxed at a gym in Nevada." I didn't know where that came from. I just didn't want him to find out about my dad.
"You look skilled. What's your name?"
Acting casually, I slipped my backpack over my shoulders to hide my nerves. "It's Jacobi, but everyone calls me Jack."
"Jack what?"
"Jack Bla..." Catching my slip, I watched his eyebrows raise as I stretched the name out while I came up with something on the fly. "ck...un...burn."
"Blackenburn?"
"Blackburn. Jack Blackburn."
"Okay. Let me get some paperwork, Jack Blackburn, for your parents to fill out. The next time you're here, we'll get you sparring. See what you got."
I followed him to the receptionist area, took his packet of paperwork and a deep breath. I didn't know anyone by that last name, but it sounded legitimate. When I got outside, I took out my phone and searched it, satisfied to see the surname Blackburn, then I called an Uber. It took a couple more weeks to get a copy of my physical from my basketball coach. I made twenty copies, wasting most of them until the doctored birth date and last name looked acceptable. I forged the rest of the paperwork, signing with Mom's signature.
"I'm looking forward to watching you play." A few seconds later, he asked, "Was your dad hard on you when you boxed?" He fiddled in the cooler beside him, brought out a bottle of beer, and twisted it open, taking a chug.
Attempting to change the subject, I glanced at my phone. It couldn't find reception, but the time displayed. "It's barely three-thirty. Isn't it too early to drink?"
"Like the song says, 'It's five o'clock somewhere,' and it's never too early when you're camping."
"Seth!" Uncle Emmett called from in front of his camper. He lifted his bottle of beer to Uncle Seth. "It's beer-thirty." Uncle Seth grinned and nodded, showing off his beer, then re-asked his question.
I shook my head and tensely rubbed my palms together. "No, I just got tired of being called his clone from other people."
"Yeah. Your dad has an enormous shadow to live under." And an enormous reputation to live up to. "I get it, though," he said.
He and Dad looked a lot alike and acted the same in other ways. Being younger, I didn't doubt he knew what I meant.
"I love basketball more, is all. It takes all my time with the season running nearly the same as boxing." That wasn't true, but he wouldn't know.
"Just keep following your heart. You'll be the happiest doing what you love to do."
A jolly uncle Emmett said, "Seth, bring that cooler over and let's get to it." We grabbed our chairs and joined him under his awning shade.
Satisfied, Uncle Emmett adjusted his chair, stretched out his legs, and swigged his bottle. "So, Jack, I heard you'll take La Push High School all the way to a State Basketball Championship Title, one of these days." His brow furrowed. "Or is it Fork's High School?"
"I haven't decided. They built our new house right between La Push and Forks, so I have a choice to make."
"Yeah, I heard the cabin your mom and dad had designed and built is gorgeous. I'm told there's a stream somewhere on their property behind the house and everything. I can't wait to see it."
"I've only seen pictures of it, but it is awesome."
A short while later, Mom came out of the camper and eyed me sitting with her brother and Uncle Seth while they drank.
"Jacobi! Why don't you go swimming with the rest of the kids?"
I held back my irritated expression. My uncles wouldn't let me drink with them as much as I'd like to. So what was the problem? Probably Uncle Emmett's warped sense of humor.
I stood. "I'll go check on them, but I'm not swimming."
She rolled her eyes and frowned in dissatisfaction. But those kids were all too young for me. They got on my nerves most of the time. At eleven years old, Uncle Emmett's daughter, Remy, was the closest to my age, and she was three years younger than me.
I approached the swimming pool, leaned my elbows on the gate, and searched for everyone. I spotted Charlie, Remy, and Embry's niece, Koah, in the pool first. In the middle of the swimming horde, I found Will and Little. I suddenly felt the sun beating down on me, making me roast. Remy saw me and waved. When I waved back, Charlie spotted me.
The three girls swam toward me. "Do you know what time it is?" Charlie asked.
"It's four fifteen."
She swung wide eyes toward Koah, then chatted with Remy for a second. Remy turned around. Mixing swimming with walking, she glided toward Will and Little.
Placing her hands on the sides of the pool, Charlie tried to lift herself out. Koah gave her a needed boost. "We need to get ready for Crow Fair," Charlie said, like I cared.
Koah lifted herself out next.
Whoa! I almost stepped backward. I recognized her prettiness earlier, but I did not see the body she hid beneath her oversized button-up shirt, hanging down long enough to cover everything up. I watched her trail Charlie to some chairs where their towels and flip-flops sat, wondering how old she was. With her curves, I guessed about sixteen, older than me for sure. Even though she wore a red one-piece swimming suit, her tiny waist accented her hips and everything else.
The sunlight shimmered against the wet beads on her golden-brown skin as she toweled her slender, athletic thighs. Turning toward me, she raised her head. I snapped mine toward Will and my cousins. When I looked again, she had wrapped her towel around her body, high over her chest. She and Charlie sauntered out the gate.
I waited before I followed them back to camp, not wanting her to think I followed them, to know I followed her. I detoured down the walking path beside the lake, passing a boat dock. A little further down, a sandy man-made beach entertained another group of people swimming in the lake. I saw a perfect view of our campsite, directly across from my location by the beach.
When I returned, Uncle Seth and Uncle Emmett still sat together where I left them. Everyone else congregated at our camper. Dad scrubbed at the outside barbecue grill with a utensil brush, talking to Uncle Jasper and preparing to grill, while Mom, Auntie Rosalie, and Auntie Leah visited.
I fell into a chair beneath our camper awning, and Mom asked. "What were they doing?"
"Swimming. Lifeguards are on duty with lots of people around. They're okay." I hoped she didn't expect me to baby-sit them at the pool, because I wouldn't.
Koah and Charlie were inside their camper. Earlier, I had heard Auntie Leah say they had to be at Crow Fair by six in the evening for the Grand Entry.
My family didn't go to powwows, but I'd been to a few Quileute Celebration Powwows, so I knew how it worked.
In the Grand Entry, every dancer, competing or just dancing for fun, lined up. They danced into the arena in a specific order, kicking off the festivities. It was like watching a parade.
Their camper door finally opened, and Charlie stepped out, wearing a colorful dress adorned with coned jingles. Koah followed her, wearing a different Native American type of dance Regalia. A feather was attached to her crown. Two long French-braids, at the top of each side of her head, hung down the fronts of her shoulders, the long tails weaved with flat shells.
Considering her dark, toffy hair color with golden highlights, she couldn't be full Quileute. Her knee-length decorated dress was cinched at her waist with a wide leather belt, showing off her nice body. I enjoyed the view, but I made sure not to keep my eyes on her too long.
I listened to Uncle Jasper explain to Dad and Mom they'd be gone for only about two hours, just so Charlie and Koah could dance in the Grand Entry. "It started on Wednesday, so they can't dance competitively this year, but since it's the biggest and longest celebration powwow in the country, we wanted to see it for ourselves and decide if we want to come back next year for the entire five days."
"And they named Koah Quileute Nation's Junior Powwow Princess last month at our Celebration. She's here to represent," Auntie Leah said, winking at Koah.
Koah flashed a bashful smile.
The information made me want to see her in action. "Do you have room for me to tag along?" I asked them.
"Sure, but we're leaving, so I hope you're ready as is," Auntie Leah said.
I nodded, looking over at my parents for permission. "I wanted him to check on the kids again," Mom said to Dad.
They're not my kids. I pursed my lips, furious.
"Go ahead, Jacobi. I'll walk over there in a minute. I wanted them to come back before we started cooking, anyway," he said.
"The camper door is unlocked for Little to get dry clothes when he gets back," Auntie Leah told them as we walked away.
Uncle Seth and Uncle Emmett razzed her about getting out of cooking again. I laughed when Auntie Leah flipped them off.
"Slow it down. You'll both pass out by the time I get back," Uncle Jasper said.
When we arrived, I volunteered to grab some lemonade with Koah for the long Grand Entry line they'd wait in, to get to know her a little. I learned she typically placed in the competitions whenever she attended powwows. It's how she earned her crown.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Fifteen. How about you?"
"I'm fifteen." I had just turned fourteen, but I lied because of plans I didn't think would materialize if she knew my actual age.
Once the Grand Entry finished, Charlie needed to use the restroom, so Koah and I headed for their truck. "You're good," I said as we walked together. "I thought you moved the shawl like a bird."
"Fancy Shawl is dance representing the birth of the butterfly. The goal is to move so fast and light on our feet, we appear to float. I couldn't dance as fast as I do in competition, because the drumbeats are slower in a grand entry," she explained.
"Nakoah!" a guy's voice rang out. We both turned around. A lanky teenage dancer waved.
Her eyes lit along with a bright smile. "Wait here. I'll be right back." She rushed toward him and gave him a hug.
He wore a porky-pine quill head dress that hung from the top of his head down his back. Red war-paint covered the top of his face to below his eyes, with a strip of white paint bordering it from beneath one eye to the other. Long, white yarn fringe hung from several places on his colorful regalia.
They talked, looking over at me. I glared straight back at them, the way I always handled people who stared at me. They hugged again, and he kissed her cheek. Jealousy pricked me.
"What kind of dancer is he?" I asked when she returned.
"He Grass dances, the reason for the long yarn strands. Their aim is to appear as long grass moving in the fields. They move as if they are swaying in the wind."
I didn't care if he was her boyfriend or not. I liked her. "Do you want to hang out when we get back. I'd like to learn about the other styles of dancers I saw. We're not powwow people."
She nodded.
Red, orange, and lavender streaked the sun setting sky, and the fire pit outside our camper glowed when we returned. The kids roasted marshmallows. The adults sat around the circle with beers in hand. Except my dad. Uncle Jasper headed straight over to them, plucking a beer from the cooler as he plopped into an empty chair. I got the impression he felt behind.
I trailed Koah, Charlie, and Auntie Leah to their camper. As she was about to go inside, I touched her arm. "I'll meet you later to hang out. I'm a little tired right now."
"It's already almost eight. What time did you want to hang out?"
We camped enough for me to know the adults would all be back in their campers, ready for bed by eleven, especially with Uncle Seth and Uncle Emmett starting as early as they did. "How about eleven-thirty or as soon as they all go to bed," I said, looking over at them. "Midnight at the latest."
She narrowed her eyes. "After they go to sleep? You mean, you want me to sneak out?"
"You never snuck out before?" I asked her, as if it was nothing, because for me, it was nothing. "I'm going down to that beach over there when they all go to bed." I pointed its direction with my chin. She rotated her head to where I signaled.
"You can meet me there? If you don't want to..." I shrugged, acting like I didn't care. Acting like you weren't into a girl attracted them more times than not. "But that's where I'll be later."
"I don't want to get caught. Leah and Jasper may never take me anywhere again."
"They'll go to bed and sleep hard, and it's so loud in an RV with the air conditioner, they won't hear a thing."
"I'll think about it."
Dad and Uncle Seth were the last men standing. When they went down, I snuck four cans of beer for us and got comfortable on a picnic table by the lake, waiting for her.
Not much longer, I spotted her silhouette coming down the path. I figured she must have liked me, or she wouldn't have come. "You made it."
She wore jeans and a pink sweatshirt. She'd taken her long, silky hair out of the braids and had gathered it together on the front side of one of her shoulders.
"I did. I figured it was my duty to share my cultural knowledge with a less informed Native American." She sat down beside me, grinning.
"You're not full Quileute, though, are you?"
"No. Three quarters. My mom is full Quileute, so I'm half from her. But my dad is only half Quileute, the other half being Spaniard. That's the other quarter. Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. I'm not full Quileute either." I reached for a beer sitting beside me and cracked it open. She eyeballed me. "Do you want one?"
She shook her head. I gulped the beer.
"How old did you say you were?"
"Fifteen."
"You're a liar! Charlie and Remy said you're only fourteen, and barley fourteen. This was your one chance to tell the truth."
Though surprised, I stayed calm. I thought quick under pressure when the situation called for it. "Since you lied to me about your age, I returned the deception."
Her face twisted in insult. "I didn't lie! I really am fifteen."
I rolled my eyes. "Sure, you are. You look thirteen and you just admitted you don't drink."
She scowled. "I do not look thirteen, and it's not common for fifteen-year-olds to drink."
"According to who? Where I'm from, it's common."
"Good night, Jacobi..." She stood up.
"Wait, wait... So I thought you lied, and so I lied back. Girls in my school lie about their ages all the time. Sorry for thinking you were the same. I really wanted to hear more about the dancers I watched today.
"Ask someone else."
"I'm moving home to La Push. I don't want to feel stupid when I get there. Not even to my family if I need to ask them about it again. They'll know I didn't care to pay attention to whatever they tried to teach the first time."
She gazed at me for a moment. I took another swig.
"All right," she said, sitting back down. "What do you want to know?"
"The difference between Charlie's dress and dance and yours?"
"Charlie is a Jingle Dress dancer. It's a healing dance. The female counter dance to the male's Grass dancing. I dance Fancy Shawl, the hardest, fastest, fanciest dance for women and girls."
She detailed the three key types of female dancing and costume regalia: Jingle dress, Fancy Shawl, and Traditional. Then she went through the three major male dance choices, Grass, Men's Fancy, and Traditional. "Which of the male types did you find the most interesting?"
"I thought the dancers with feather head-dresses and fierce warrior paint covering their entire faces seemed cool."
She smiled, and I took in the color of her eyes. I'd never seen eyes like hers. "Male Traditional dancers, dance stories of the hunt, battles, and victories."
"But then, I spotted the Grass dancers and their smooth flow made me think they were the best. But as the guys with two colorful feather bustles on their backs came spinning by me so fast, they impressed me, too. I guess I liked them all."
"Like Fancy Shawl, Men's Fancy is the fasted and hardest, and each dancer develops their own moves. Well, it's like that for all types as far as developing moves. Great footwork, being able to synchronize each step with each drum beat and stop when the drum stops, is crucial to both male and female dancers."
She glowed, explaining the dance culture, and I could tell she warmed up to me. "I like your eyes," I said. "Who did you get them from?"
"I got them from my mom's side of the family. The story is that one of my great ancestors stole an Irish or French woman in a wagon trail ambush and took her for his wife. So, now and then grey eyes pop up in our family."
"Wow, that's crazy." I guzzled down beer number two. She watched me pop open the third beer. "Are you sure you don't want one?" I asked.
Consideration flickered over her face.
"Just try it."
She reached out, taking the can from my hand, and took a sip. "Ew, nasty."
"It's an acquired taste."
Saying nothing more about the beer, she rotated opposite me and poured it out to my disappointment. "So, when did you turn fourteen."
I took her wanting to know as a good sign. "June 28."
"I turned fifteen in May 1st," she said, revealing our year and month age difference. "I'll admit. I really thought you were older."
"And I really thought you were thirteen."
She burst with laughter. "B S."
"Your right. I thought you were the same age as me." I stared into her smoky eyes. "Based on your birthday, you're more fourteen than fifteen anyway and considering your inexperience."
"Inexperience with drinking?"
I shrugged. "Along with whatever else you've never done."
Arching a brow, she asked, "Like what?"
"Have you ever kissed a guy?"
A wide smile appeared, and she briefly turned away, I assumed, to hide the patches of red coloring I saw wash across her cheeks. "Please!"
"That's not an answer."
She huffed. "Sure, I have."
"I don't believe you."
"Why?"
"Because you're embarrassed. A person who kissed before wouldn't get embarrassed talking about it."
Rolling her eyes, she laughed and said, "You think you're smooth, don't you? But no matter what you say, you won't trick me into giving you your first kiss."
I laughed. "Is that what you think?"
"You're barely fourteen. Am I supposed to believe you're an experienced make out artist?"
Try me. Glancing down at the trembling hands she held in her lap. I realized she was trying to act braver than she felt. "I don't mean to make you nervous."
"You make me nervous?"
She couldn't make eye contact when she a faked a laugh, turning away again. Compared to other girls I messed around with, I liked her shyness. I decided it wouldn't do any good to offend her or scare her away. I thought it best to back off. "So, this conversation went sideways."
"No kidding!"
"I'm sorry for giving you the wrong idea. I just wanted to make a friend from La Push since we're moving there."
She turned back toward me, the tension fading as she smiled. "I'm sorry I misread you, and I really got to get back."
The goal had been to make out with her, but getting her to like me was more important. I had two more days and nights to make that happen. "I'll walk you."
She got back inside with no problem, so I headed to our camper. Coming around from the back of it, I startled when I spotted Mom and Uncle Seth, sitting in front of his fire pit outside of his cabin. I jumped backward, out of sight. Shit! If they caught me out, I could kiss the rest of my weekend and plans with Koah goodbye. I peeked around the camper's corner and watched them. They were absorbed in their conversation. I had an inkling of what they might have been discussing. Good! She talked about it enough with Dad; it was about time she talked about Uncle Seth to his face.
Being engrossed, they gave me a fighting chance. Without another choice, I hid in the Camper's shadow for a few minutes. Sucking in a deep breath, I tucked in my shoulders, put my head down, and strode out into the open and into our camper. Fingers crossed.
A/N Bella's is up next with more about Seth, in Part 3 of the Bonus Epilogue.