I never wanted to come back to Forks, Washington. With the rain pelting my face and no more sun, it definitely feels like I was the kid sent to the principal's office. A punishment for what though? For being the smartest student to ever come from La Push Reservational School? For being so committed to getting away from this goddamn rez but yet somehow I ended up back here? Despite all my efforts.

Yea.

A full scholarship thanks to my brains, the only Native American kid in the entire state, and I come back to the place that I did my damndenst to leave. Yea. I MUST be smart. I'm too smart. So smart I'm stupid.

At least at college I was treated like a superstar. I mean, the amount of times I got people to stop dead in their tracks if I wore even a simple bracelet that gave away that no…I'm NOT hispanic american, I'm *native*…was too many to count. People really loved me at school. But here on the rez, where I'm just another red girl with a messy bun, teeth in need of braces, and offset cheekbones…welp. I'm NOT a hot commodity unless you're a tourist and you're visiting.

The white people treat me like I'm a poison because some of the rez kids like to steal from them if they stay too long on La Push beaches, and my people treat me like I'm a freak because I'm one of the few who don't want to stay. I don't want anything to do with La Push. And especially not when it comes to making a life here.

But alas…

Here I am.

Back in fucking Forks, Washington.

Because unlike my well off dormmates and fellow graduates, who all had jobs lined up thanks to connections and silver spoons to get an apartment…Well, I'm stuck "applying" and "saving up even more" for when I finally DO get to be able to leave this God forsaken place once and for all.

I just have to keep my head down and buried in job applications. That's all.

"You can do this, Rachel," I tell myself quietly under my breath as the taxi pulls up to take me to the tiny red house that I grew up in.

Back to the rez.

Yay.

xxxxxxxxx

Some things never change. When I get to the house, Dad has Rebecca and I's room exactly the same as when she and I were in High School.

Before she married at eighteen and I went away to college.

I'll have to tell Becca that Jacob is oddly never around. For some reason it seems his teenage years are more lenient than ours had been. Dad for all intent and purposes seems to let that boy do anything.

Which is crazy to me, since he was always protective of us girls.

But Jacob HAS changed. He looks like he's a whole different person and by that I mean he looks like a grown man. Or some character from a comic book. Thunderbird or something. A superhero. I wonder to myself what types of drugs is he taking or what workout plan and diet is Dad allowing him to do. But I don't ask.

I don't say anything. Even when he comes in and out the house like it's his apartment and like he's not just sixteen on a school night. He has a freaking tattoo…a huge one. And he eats everything in the house as if he pays all the grocery bills, leaving a mess for either me or Dad to clean up.

Ok, I lied. One time I tried to ask Dad about what's going on with Jacob, but the look on Dad's face and the way he acted just let me know that it is definitely some kind of a sexist thing. As if I can't question what is going on with his only son.

I can't approach Jake about it directly either though. Because even though I'm his older sister, he's always liked Becca more. She was always the maternal, nurturing, caring, and doting sister. She made it easy on me because she not only raised Jacob, but she also sort of raised me too after our mother died. And she was just a natural when it came to talking to Jacob and connecting with him. I wish she was here.

Rebecca was the one everyone expected to stay here and be one of those rez "aunties" that you can go to. But unfortunately for the rez boys she found a Samoan surfer vacationing in Washington instead. He married her and took her to a very different place with nature all around.

It wasn't strange that a outsider fell in love with my sister. Who wouldn't? And even though we are identical, my twin sister and I's experience with boys have never been the same. She always attracted men. Like a butterfly. Me on the other hand? A moth for some reason.

I didn't start getting attention until I left the rez and the Caucasian boys noticed that I could kind of pass for Pocohantas or a Latina Bombshell, so they'd settle for something they thought of as exotic. It really didn't take much work. Just a few braids and whoopdeedoo, I had my first white boy offering to take me to the movies and asking if I believed in mother nature and to explain the history of my people.

As if I really cared about what happened on this Quileute rez long ago. I've never really felt like I fit in. Defintely an apple. Red on the outside…something else on the inside.

What also works against me is that I've always been kind of a bitch, too. I'm not the most friendliest person on the rez. And maybe that's another reason why I repelled boys. But not only boys, but friends as well.

It's been a week, and I've seen a total of two people since I've been home: my brother and my dad. But that's because I prefer it that way.

I like to hide my horrible shyness and overall social insecurity behind the excuse of introversion which is really just me suffering from antisocialness. Thankfully, at college it worked out because I was supposed to have my nose in a book or head down typing up a 10 page essay. No one saw it as strange. But here on the rez around natives like me, it's just seen as rude.

"You should get out the house today," My father says to me on a not so rainy afternoon, as if I need a reminder that I'm a hermit.

"I'll get out the house after I get a job offer…When I'm on my way to catch a plane out of here," I reply back and try my best not to sound annoyed.

"All this job hunting is stressing you out, I can tell. Just go for a walk on the beach. Maybe you'll see some of the girls you and Becca knew in High School. You can have some fun, destress. Stop worrying so much about getting hired," My father insists.

My dad knows I'm shy and him pushing me to not be a homebody has always been one of the main reasons we've bumped heads in the past. And as much as I'd love to rage, I'm not very interested in returning to teenage angst. Despite being back in my childhood home and living in my old bedroom with Avril Lavigne posters on the wall.

"I'd really rather not. Those girls you're talking about were Becca's friends. Not mine," I cry.

"Rachel," He says testily.

That's one thing about native parents. There's no arguing with them. Anything other than a "Yes, Dad" is seen as disrespect. And since despite me not wanting to leave the house out of fear of social interaction (because this is the rez…I'm bound to see someone I know), I am a good daughter.

I put on my sneakers and I'm out the door.

I won't lie. The walk to the beach doesn't bother me. For all of my hate for Washington and my home, I do love one thing: the solitude of nature. The trees. The cloudy sky. The drizzling rain.

Before I know it, I'm listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. And I break out of the clearing to see the sand, logs, and water. I made it and thankfully for me, a quick scan of the beach reveals no one.

Dad was right in one way. Getting out of the house does make me feel better, but only as long as I don't have to interact with anyone else.

I walk down to the shore and sit on one of the logs. I'm far enough away from the water where it doesn't soak my shoes, but the sand is wet and I can't help but stick my finger in it and dig a little wish.

A job in New York.

I close my eyes and wish very, very hard. There's a few applications I put in that I'm praying I'll get. But I don't want my hopes up too high. Because New York is competitive. And I have no connections nor experience. So, the chances of me getting hired out there are slim.

But I want to go.

Ever since my mom died I knew I wanted to leave the rez and go to a place that didn't remind me of it at all. And New York has been it. There's no unity. No one knows your name or your background. And no one wants to. Everyone minds their own business. And no one cares if you don't talk or if that makes you seem like a bitch. Because everyone is.

I sigh.

I watch the waves for awhile but eventually I decide to get up and as I do, I dust my sandy hands off on the legs of my dark wash jeans. I'm just about to start walking back, when I see someone coming towards the beach. Great.

I can tell it's a guy, but I'm not entirely sure who exactly. At first I wonder if it is my brother Jake coming to talk to me, maybe Dad sent him out to bond like he sent me outside to get some air. Because the guy isn't wearing a shirt, appears to be six feet tall, short hair, bare footed, and looks like he's a body builder. But I immediately know it is not my brother. But rather maybe one of my brothers friends. And that's when I'm hit with the sinking feeling that my little brother might be hanging around with the wrong crowd. Especially considering his new look and him sneaking in and out of the house all the time.

Oh well. What can I do about it, though? I'm not Rebecca. And that's Dad's job. I'm not his mother.

My heart kind of hurts when I think of that last part. Dammit. I try to shrug it off as I wonder if I should just pretend to look at something interesting in the sand until the stranger passes by or if I should just head in the direction I need to go and pray they don't care about me enough to make small talk. Because God, I hate small talk. But seeing as though this is the rez, my best bet would be just to pretend to study the sand and wait for the person to get further down the beach.

And I'm doing just that as the passerby comes closer to joining me in order to get close to the water. I squat down and study a few rocks.

Nice.

I count to sixty in my head before I look up again to gouge where the stranger is at, and as I do I can see they are close enough to see me staring at the sand like a freak. And before I can look away, our eyes make contact. Shit. Ugh. Now it's really awkward.

I immediatley look away. Hopefully they just keep walking and I still can avoid having to say hi or have a conversation. I wait sixty more seconds before I look up again to check the status of where the person went.

But as I do..something strange…

The guy is even closer now.

But not only that…he's looking at me.

And by that I mean, he's staring me down.

He's so close that I can see the color of his eyes. Dark brown…with a hint of some light brown flecks.

Ok.

This.

Is.

Weird.

I stand up, dust my hands again nervously on my pants, and clear my throat. I guess I'll have to speak. Maybe he knows me. I study his face, but I can't place him at all. I mean, everyone on the rez looks familiar. But I can tell right away that this guy is not someone I went to school with.

He's definitely younger than me. Jake's

age. And maybe that's why he's studying me like that. Because he's one of Jacob's friends.

Ugh. I'll have to pretend to want to shoot the breeze. This'll be awkward.

Let's just get this out the way.

Ok.

Here we go, Rach.

Just rip the small talk band-aid off.

"H-hi," I say awkwardly. And to make it worse I even add a stupid little wave.

Ugh.

Kill myself later will be on my list of things to do along with apply for more jobs.

The guy, for some reason, though…

Doesn't make it any better.

Beause instead of acknowledging me…

He just continues to stare. As if he's reading my soul. Or judging me.

I immediately feel self concious and cross my arms.

What is his problem?

I wait.

Three seconds.

Fifteen seconds.

Sixty seconds.

I clear my throat. Ok. I did not imagine this small talking thing to go so bad. This will be another memory to remind myself reasons why I should never leave the comfort of the house.

I instensively lick the side of my lips. Why am I nervous? I should just walk away since this guy is obviously the weird one. At least I spoke.

But just as I'm about to walk past this guy and give him the middle finger in my mind for making me feel more of a freak than I already am because of this bad social experience…

All of a sudden the guy steps uncomfortably close to me. And I'm talking, stalker…crazy…there's no such thing as a personal bubble…kind of close.

I gulp a big breath of air and nervously take a step back.

For some reason, my nervous system is going haywire as this guy looks down at me with the same exact intense look on his face.

What.

The.

Hell.

xxxxxxxxx

"What?!" Jacob's yell is the first thing I hear from outside the house.

I run to the window and peek out.

There the guy is still standing in the front with my dad.

The awkward encounter on the beach led me to immediately walk back home. I never felt so terrified in my life. But to make matters worse, the guy…or boy because now looking at him next to my little brother I can definitely tell they are a similar age…followed me.

I've never been good at sports before. Rez basketball was never going to see me on a team. But for some reason, having a overgrown teenager that looks like he wants to possibly rape me stalking behind me is enough to inspire anyone to run like crazy back to safety.

When I burst through the front door of my childhood home and slammed it shut to lock it, my dad wheeled to the front room to immediately ask me what was wrong. But all I could do was shakily tell him that some kid was following me.

My dad had wheeled towards the window (the very one I'm peeping out of now) and said, "Paul".

Paul Lahote.

Wow.

Looking at him now I would have never guessed that was him. On the beach he looked like a bodygaurd. I can't imagine that this was the little brat of a kid that would bully Jacob. So when did Jacob decide to become his friend? This kid even used to throw things at me with the other little bullies if he saw me reading by myself.

I was right to run away. And it doesn't surprise me that he turned out to be the sexual assault type.

He seemed to be headed down that road anyway. But I kind of do feel a twinge of sadness because looking outside now with Jacob and Paul standing close to one another…I notice they BOTH have the same tattoo on their shoulder. I can see that my brother is definitely hanging out with the wrong crowd. If Jake is hanging around a sixteen year old that just sort of sexually harassed me…what does that say about Jake himself?

But I am immediately shocked when Jacob throws a punch at Paul. I watch as my brother fights his classmate. Our dad shouts for him to stop.

Now, I never thought Jacob cared about me. Or even liked me for that matter. But here he is, fighting someone that scared the shit out of me. I can't help but feel my heart warm at my brother's unexpected loyalty.

The Paul kid for all his days bullying Jacob from what I remember and being a little shit, well he sure is getting his ass beat. And I'm happy. It serves him right. I realize that he's not even trying to fight back. It's always the bullies that can't handle being stood up to and definitely can't take a punch.

"Jake! Jake! Let him go!" My dad shouts as my brother bloodies this kid's nose.

He's got him on the ground and he's just pummeling him. I'm mentally cheering my brother on. But then I watch in horror as our dad wheels himself over to break up the fight. He grabs Jake's arm as Jacob brings it up to swing another punch, and I guess because Jacob's so buff now, our dad just goes swiging out his chair as Jacob brings it back down to make contact with Paul's face again.

It happens so instantly, Jacob doesn't even notice it. He seems to be blinded by rage. As if he can't focus on anything else but beating Paul up.

I run out the front door in horror and shock at our dad being ejected from his chair. And I stoop by his side, unwillingly putting myself too in the middle of Jake's blind bloodlust.

"Rachel! Go back inside!" My father shouts as he tries to prop up on his elbows.

But I don't listen. I have to help him up. I hate seeing him weak like this. And I know he can get back in the chair himself, but with Jake so close by his head throwing blind punches…well, I know I seem like I'm a bad daughter and act like I don't care about him most of the time, but really I just can't leave my dad on the ground by himself.

I rush to his side, and just as I bend down by our father to try to steay him up, I get my brother's elbow in the nose.

And…

That.

Shit.

Feels.

Like.

A.

Fuking.

Brick.

I immediately forget about my father because now all I feel is pain. I'm flat on my ass. No wonder my dad told me to stay inside. I should have listened. That would have been being a good daughter.

I can feel blood trickling down my nose.

"Rachel!" My dad exclaims.

Jacob notices my father and I now. And I can see the look on his face as he processes both of us on the ground beside him. Then, it's like the Paul kid needed this distraction for Jacob, in order for him to come alive again.

He pushes Jacob off of him. And two things happen.

One of which shocks me.

Jacob goes over to immediately help my dad back in his chair.

And…

The Paul boy comes over to help me.

"Are you ok?" The alarm in his voice and his eyes takes me aback.

He bends down and scoops me into his arms. Literally cradling me. But before I can say or do anything, he's taking long strides into the house through the front door I left open when I came running out thinking I could help save my father.

He sets me down on the couch in the front room and then goes into the kitchen like this is his house. Not ours. He quickly comes back with a rag and presses it to my nose. Almost pinching it.

I blink a few times. The look of concern on this boy's face as he squats in front of me feels uncomfortable. As if he's my parent instead of my father that's being wheeled by Jacob inside right now.

"Rachel!" Jacob exclaims as he comes in with our dad, "I'm so sorry!"

"Save it!" Paul snaps his head and glares at Jacob.

Ok.

This is weird.

It's like the tables have turned. Paul is acting like my brother and my brother is being treated like he's the one who stalked me on the beach awhile ago.

"Paul, we can take it from here," My dad says in a grave tone.

But Paul still presses the cloth to my nose. Even though I'm very well capable of doing it myself. Not to mention, his own nose is bloody. But not just that, I realize my brother's punches has offset it. Wow.

Jacob broke this kid's nose over me. I wonder how he can sit here worried about my nose when his is literally adjacent to his face right now.

"My dad said we can handle it," Jacob growls when Paul doesn't move.

I silently pray that my brother doesn't take fighting for my honor to fighting in the house as well. I love and am shocked by his loyalty, but I really don't think Dad can afford to replace the tv if Jacob goes into another blind rage and elbows that accidentally too. But if he does, I know enough this time to wheel Dad and myself out of the way.

The Paul kid acts like he's deaf. And that irritates Jacob. Even I can see my brother is ready for round two.

Paul removes the cloth from my nose. And embarassingly wipes up the blood under it. I realize I've stopped bleeding and the pain is going away.

"There" The Paul kid says as he looks me over, "How do you feel?"

But I'm too confused by his actions to answer.

"Jacob!" Our dad yells testily as my brother comes over to Paul.

This time, Paul stands up so fast and turns towards Jacob. I watch in horror as they both stare at one another like they're boxers ready to go in the ring once more.

"I'm not leaving her!" Paul shouts, "You hurt her!"

What?

Is he talking to my brother about me?

"It was an accident! And I don't need you telling me how to protect my sister!" Jacob retorts.

"That's not your job anymore! It's mine. She's got me now!"

Ok.

I'm confused.

I try to go through my memory where this little boy could have got it into his head that I was his. Because the way he's talking, it sounds like we're boyfriend and girlfriend.

Ofcourse I come up with nothing. Now I really do hope Jake fights him for the seond time.

"She doesn't need you!" Jacob growls.

"You know that's not how it works!" Paul shouts back.

My dad wheels over to the phone as the boys have another showdown.

"Leave. Now." Jacob grits through his teeth.

"You know I won't," Paul says, "I can't ever leave now."

"We've got a problem. Send Sam," I look over and hear my father talking into the receiver of the phone.

Our eyes meet and he looks away. Like he's guilty or hiding something. What is going on?

I feel like something deeper is happening here.

I look back at the my brother and the other boy. I see Paul is shaking.

"You're going to lose it," Jacob's eyes from some reason are happy when he notices this too, "If you don't leave now…you'll be the one to hurt her. You and I both know that. So, go."

Paul looks down at his hands. Then he looks back at me on the couch. His eyes are terrified.

He looks at Jacob again. But this time he seems defeated. And my brother's eyes look murderous and he sounds victorious as he speaks.

"Do you really want her to be like Emily? Do you really want to live with what Sam has to live with everyday? That's what's going to happen if you stay around her. It might not be today, tomorrow, or even a week from now. But you and I both know who's the one she needs protection from. Out of all of us, you're the worst at controlling yourself. She's my sister and I'll do whatever it takes so she won't get hurt by you. I'll kill you before I let you get close enough to lose it on her."

I watch as the Paul kid throws down the cloth with my blood and as he pushes pass my brother out the house.

Jacob shakes his head as Paul leaves. He comes over to me and uncharacteristically touches my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel," He says but for some reason I get the feeling he's not jut apologizing for accidentally hurting me.

This is too weird. I feel my flight instinct telling me to leave this house with my brother who is not really my brother and my father who seems to be keeping some kind of secret.

I squeeze Jacob's hand nonetheless. I still can't believe he fought for me like that. And I can't remember the last time I felt we were this close to each other. Maybe I've been too hard on my little brother. Maybe he does love me in the same way he loves Rebecca.

My eyes drift back to where my father is still talking into the phone. I catch something he says and it makes me feel weird.

"Paul imprinted on Rachel"

What the hell does that mean?

xxxxxxx