Chapter 10: Bonding

"And when he came to the place where the wild things are, they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth, and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws till Max said…"

"BE STILL!"

"…and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once, and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all, and made him king of all wild things."

I'm in another dream. Like the last time, I'm fully aware that it's happening, that none of it is real except for the fact that it is. Like the last time, it's another memory.

I don't know how old I am, but my dad is next to me in my bed- the one I had until I was ten, back in my old bedroom. A little frog light casts a soft glow around us, and small, green glow-in-the-dark stars line the ceiling like a night sky. I must be really young, I think, because my stuffed animals are fenced in around us like a protective barrier from the outside world.

'Where the Wild Things Are' is propped up on my dad's chest, and I'm drowsily curled in under his arm. It's my job to turn the pages, and it's his job to read all the voices and make the funny sounds. I like this story best, even if the pictures are sort of scary – Daddy and I always bare our teeth at each other and hold our hands up like claws, growling and pretending to howl up at the moon like the wild things do before I go to sleep.

He tells me that the wild things aren't really monsters, even with their teeth and claws. They're a lot like big dogs and big cats and big birds - I like animals, so that's probably why I'm not as afraid of the pictures in the book as I am of other things, like the sound of the trees rustling outside my window or the shadows of my Barbie dolls on the wall.

Daddy says I spook easy, but after he checks under my bed and inside my closet, and in between the curtains for monsters, he tells me I must've scared them off.

Because I'm 'ferocious.'

"And Max the king was lonely, and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all. Then all around, far away across the world, he smelled good things to eat, so he gave up being king of where the wild things are," he reads quietly. "But the wild things cried…"

" 'Oh please don't go, we'll eat you up-we love you so!' And Max said, 'no!'"

I yawn sleepily, and my dad lets out a little sigh and puts the book down. "Tired, kiddo?"

"Noooo. Keeping reading, I wanna know when Max goes home. It's my favorite part."

"You said your favorite part was when Max becomes king two nights ago."

"Well, it's not my favorite anymore," I say quickly, wrinkling my nose. He puts the book away despite my protests, a silencing finger over his mouth as he tries to get me to settle down.

But there's a question on my mind, a question spurred by the illustration of a little boy in wolf pajamas and a gold crown, sailing across the sea on a boat made just for him.

"Daddy, do you think Max missed his Mommy and Daddy when he was with the wild things? Is that why he goes home?"

Dad breathes out a puff, and he nods his head against mine. "Hmm…I think so. Or maybe he was just hungry for dinner. That's how this thing ends, anyway."

"Oh yeah," I reply simply. My nose wrinkles again, and my big blue eyes glance up at a pair of older, brown ones. "Would you miss me if I went to live with the wild things?"

His mustache curls up as he pretends to think about it until I pout. He pokes me in my side, sending me into a pile of squeals and giggles, and then he hushes me because it's nighttime and he doesn't really like it when I 'give myself the midnight crazies' before I go to bed, whatever that means.

"I'd miss you a lot, Soph. Why? You plannin' on building a boat and taking off?"

"No, silly. The ocean is so, so scary."

"Even scarier than the, uh, wild things?"

"Mhmm. And I'd miss you lots and lots and lots. But maybe you could come with me! We could live with the wild things together, and we'd be happily-ever-after, 'cause the wild things will scare off the monsters with their big teeth and their really long claws."

I bare my teeth and form my tiny fingers into claws again, but Daddy just tucks my blanket until it's all the way up to my chin. He's trying to tell me it's time to sleep for real, this time.

"Well, if you find any wild things you think we should live with, you let me know. Until then, I'll take care of any monsters that wanna eat you up."

" 'Cause you're a police officer."

"Bingo, kid. You know why else?"

" 'Cause you're my Daddy, and daddies get rid of monsters so their babies can go to bed and don't wake up sad," I repeat from memory. My bottom lip juts out a little, and I peer up at him, clutching onto the side of his hand with my smaller one. "But what about when I'm not a baby anymore? Who's gonna scare them away, then?"

He kisses my forehead, squeezing his arm around my shoulder. "You're always gonna be my baby, Sophie," he says, and for a second, he sounds really sad. "You and Bells are my babies forever, even when you're all grown up and you aren't so little anymore."

"Even though Bella's with Mommy?"

"Yeah. Even though she isn't here, you'll both always be babies in my heart, no matter what."

"Okay, so I have, like, a whole itinerary. Are you ready for this?"

"Um…yeah, ready as I'll ever be."

Bella sits on the living room sofa, legs crossed with a surprised expression gracing her features, as she stares at me standing in front of her. She nods at me, and a smile rises to my face as I pull out the DVDs I've been hiding behind my back like I'm holding a winning hand of cards.

"First movie: New York Minute. I mean, it's kinda perfect, right? Great way to start off a Bella-Sophie movie marathon, if you ask me, since it's all about sisterhood. Second on the list: would you look at that? Another movie about sisterhood! We've got Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, which is like, a dark comedy," I explain in a long-winded ramble, facing each disc case down on the coffee table. "Third on the list: Tuck Everlasting. It's sort of a fairytale, I figured you might appreciate it, because it's romance-y and dreamy, and everything. Finally, last but not least…you guessed it, The Notebook."

I'm practically trying to catch my breath as I splay each DVD in front of her, my hands folded in front of my mouth as I try to suppress a grin. 'Don't make it weird' had been my forefront thought all last night when I was trying to come up with a list of the best movies to watch today, and I'd spent a lot of time mentally deliberating over what she might like.

I shouldn't have been very surprised that for the second time, Bella had forgotten about our sister-hangout this weekend. In a way, I understand- Edward has probably been draining her brain dry of any cognizant thought via makeout session with all the time they've been spending together, and I probably should have anticipated that she'd need another reminder.

If it stings a little that my sister has misremembered the plans she initially introduced to me, it's dismissed in favor of my own feelings of anticipation. It doesn't really matter if she's been too busy to think about it, because I've done all the thinking for the both of us.

Luckily, all of my thinking proved to be a rather productive distraction, I think - from the argument I had with Dad, Coach's texts, and my fledgling Varsity soccer career hanging on by a thread. I'd planned everything out today to an impressive degree – popcorn and M&Ms sit in bowls in front of us, I dug out the coziest blankets I could find from our storage closet, and two extra-large Cokes from Sully's drip lazily on a pair of coasters I wasn't even aware we owned.

And if my careful attention to detail just so happened to also distract me from more than a few texts from a boy whose concussion diagnosis surely means he should not be looking at a phone screen… then that's merely an added bonus.

"That sounds like…nearly six hours of movies," Bella responds after a few blinks. I don't bat an eye, I just nod in agreement.

"I know, right? It's gonna be great."

"You've, uh, put a lot of thought into this."

"Well, I wasn't sure what you'd like. So I tried to go for crowd-pleasers or just movies that I thought were relatable."

She doesn't look nearly as enthusiastic about the prospect as I do, and an awkward silence falls over us as she looks at me and I look at her. My shoulders sink defeatedly as I stand in front of the TV and search her for any sign of excitement. I let out an uncomfortable laugh and rock on my heels. "We can…we can always switch them out, it's no biggie whatsoever. And we don't have to watch them all," I try.

"No, no, this is…wow, this is great," she says with wide eyes, nodding vehemently. A small smile passes over her lips, and I can't help the hope that swells in me at her answer. "I just... I can't wait."

"Okay, cool!" I turn around to pop the first movie into the DVD player, and I practically throw myself onto the sofa next to her. I rub my hands together eagerly and press a few buttons on the remote. Bella drapes one of the blankets over the both of us, and I prop myself up with my arm.

We don't talk much through the first movie except for a few questions regarding our confusion about whether or not one of the sisters on the screen is Mary-Kate or Ashley, but I'm pleased to hear Bella laughing at Roxy's train-dancing scene. The second movie goes pretty similarly to the first – cozy with quiet, enjoyable comfort, even though it's a lot sadder than I remember it being.

It's only halfway through Tuck Everlasting when I notice that Bella seems to be completely captivated by the love story of Winnie and Jesse, a boy who's been cursed to eternally remain seventeen after drinking water from a magical spring. The entire Tucks family have all been cursed to live forever, and the first half of the movie is spent conveying all the reasons an immortal life would be totally shitty to a girl who doesn't seem to mind very much.

"You wanna spend forever with me, Winnie?"

"I do."

"I dunno," I say offhandedly to Bella as I watch Winnie cuddle up against Jackson, sipping at my Coke. "That just seems like a lot of commitment, drinking some magical, anti-death water to stay with a guy who lives in the woods."

Bella stiffens beside me, but her eyes don't leave the screen. "True love makes people do crazy things, I guess," she chuckles darkly.

"Yeah, but what if she decides after, like, one-hundred-fifty years, that she's tired of the whole 'living forever with the same person' schtick?"

She adjusts the blanket on top of her, burrowing herself inside of it until I can only see a pair of large, brown eyes. "You…you, uh, sound pretty convinced it's that easy."

"To do what? Live forever?"

"No. To… fall out of love."

I shrug nonchalantly, looking away from her and back at the screen. "It can't possibly be that hard. Look at Dad and Mom," I say, and immediately wince with regret at my lack of tact. "Kinda crazy, spending all of eternity with a someone who's stuck living as a teenager forever…since this is based in, like, eighteen-whatever, I guess that means if they make it to this year, they'll have lived long enough to fight over whether or not to make themselves 'MySpace official'."

My joke lands and fortunately, it effectively distracts Bella from the melancholy of my first response. She snorts and rolls her eyes, and when she gets up for a bathroom break that she doesn't return from until the final credits roll, I barely even notice.

In her absence, I look at my phone and see half a dozen texts I've been ignoring since I received them.

From: Seth Clearwater

This concussion stuff totally sucks rocks :( finally feeling like a real athlete!

No school for the next few days and no NOTHING for weeks. Ugh.

My mom said u were really upset about everything. I hope u know I wouldn't have climbed the tree if I knew I would fall :(

Kind of an embarrassing situation haha. I am really sorry u had to deal with that

Txt me when u get a chance!

I shove my phone face down on the sofa in irritation, because I think I am mad at Seth. In a convoluted way, if he'd never goofed off and lost my soccer ball, he would've never been stupid enough to climb that tree, and Sue would've never told Dad that I was in 'shock' or however he said it, and I would've never missed school. I never would've had to beg my own dad to let me stay in the one sport I'd make a million sacrifices for, and Coach would certainly not be as upset as I think he is now, if Seth hadn't been so careless.

It's easier to tell myself the reason why I refuse to open his texts is that I'm angry about all these other things – angry about his lack of discipline, lack of seriousness, and lack of self-awareness. It makes it easier to ignore how terrified I was when his lungs were constricting when he crash-landed in his backyard, and I don't have to think about how worried I still am about his injured state. I've seen my own teammates go down on the pitch face-first after a bad play – hell, I've done it myself – but I've never felt as panicked as I did when I saw Seth tumble onto the grass from four feet above the ground.

Coach wants me to focus, and he's noticed my distracted state. I don't know if being around someone like Seth is going to inspire a newfound sense of concentration in a way that matters, especially if I'm going to allow myself to be concerned over his childish, indulgent behavior.

It's not as though we're really friends. We're just…just two people, who happen to enjoy a little competition against one another.

Strangely, that thought alone makes my stomach hurt.

"O-Oh…my…god, I completely forgot about that."

"I didn't…you guys were bullying me! I was bullied."

"No one forced you to drink that stuff."

"I'm lucky …I didn't get a freakin' infection, or something," I say between hysterical laughs, slapping Bella playfully on the knee as she shakes her head nostalgically. "I just wanted to be included, and I didn't know being the family dog in you and Jake's crappy version of 'playing house' meant drinking dirt and leaf water."

"But it was your idea, Soph."

"Hey! At least I had a commitment to my character, okay?! Don't sit there and cheapen it."

"You are literally the one complaining about it!"

"Because someone should've at least tried and stopped me, for Pete's sake!"

We both erupt into giggles again, faces beet red and eyes teary from our humored back-and-forth. The Notebook plays unwatched in the background in Bella's bedroom, a change of plans I insisted upon in remembrance of our 'sister-sleepovers' from when we were younger. I'm half draped over the end of her bed as she stays buried under the covers, and a crumbled mess of popcorn and M&Ms loiter the creases of her purple comforter.

It feels good, to talk about the stupid shenanigans we got up to when we were kids. It's like filling in the blanks of a story that hasn't quite ended, a story we can pretend wasn't indefinitely paused for years and years. Remembering the way things used to be before time and distance caught up to us feels like laying down the foundation of whatever we are now.

What we were supposed to be.

Sisters, I remind myself fondly. We're sisters.

Bella wipes a clumsy hand over her cheeks, shaking her head again. "God… poor Dad. I can't even imagine all the stuff you used to get your nose into when you were little. Remember that one cat you kept trying to convince him to keep?"

"If you think that's bad, you should ask him about the burger-story. Cue the mental breakdown in the middle of Carver's Café when Dad told me what burgers were made out of- a cute, sweet, little cow. Cora was just starting out as a server, too. I'm pretty sure I didn't make a great first impression."

"You've always been a softie," she tells me kindly, reaching over to give me a playful shove on the shoulder. "I wonder if Jake remembers any of this stuff. It feels so far away, now. When Dad was telling us about the Clearwaters, it took a minute for me to put faces to the names."

I blink. So she remembers that, too? Why can't I? I glance down at my phone a little guiltily, the screen lit up like an ironic suggestion from the universe. "Is that him, now? Dad told me about the tree, I hope he's doing okay," she offers, her face doing that thing again that immediately makes me peevish.

"He's fine. Anyway, I wanna hear all about the boyfriend. Edward… can't I call him something else? Like, can't I just call him Eddie?"

She narrows her eyes at my lack of subtlety, but the shy smile rising to her face is a sign of my own success. "Just Edward," she says a little breathily. "He's very sweet. Frustrating, but sweet."

I perk up with interest. "Frustrating?"

"Yeah. He's…we're both new at this sort of…thing. I think he gets worried that we're moving really… fast. Even though I've never been happier…he's a little hard to convince. You could say he's pretty protective."

I hum in agreement as if I can relate, and I blow out a lazy breath. "Very Allie-and-Noah of you guys," I tell her, pointing at the screen. "I thought boys were supposed to be simple creatures, that's what Dad says. Also, didn't you guys leave my soccer game to bump uglies, or whatever? How worried is he, really?"

Her face turns scarlet, and she chokes on a laugh. "We haven't…we're not even in a place where that's something…no. Just no, okay? No sex. None."

"Mhmm," I reply, clearly unconvinced. "Well, that's good, I guess. It's only been a few weeks since you thought Egg-ward was totally going to rip off your skin and wear it as a suit-"

"-I never…I never said that! Or thought that, and don't call him-"

"-But he's nice to you? Does all the boyfriend-y stuff?"

The aggravated line between Bella's brows smooths into something pleased again. "Yes. Not in the…conventional sense, but yes. I didn't know I'd ever meet someone like him. It's funny…he thinks I'm pretty hard to read, but I've never felt more…open."

Intense, I think to myself bewilderedly, unable to conceptualize just how romantic she and Edward seem to be. I flop onto my back, arms wide open as I try to wrap my head around her whirlwind romance. 'She is undeniably the most fascinating person I've ever met in my life,' he told me that day during study hall.

Is this how two normal people in love are supposed to feel about each other? Isn't this stuff just in movies and books?

"Is he a good kisser?" I ask with wide eyes. "Do you think he's serious? In it for the long haul?"

"It's about as serious as we can be."

"So you're gonna have to meet his parents, then. And he'll have to meet Dad, more officially than he did at my game."

"Soon…soon," she says, her words weighted by something I don't understand. She gives me a strange look, almost secretive, and grins. "You seem very invested in my relationship, you know that?"

I roll my eyes and roll over onto my stomach to face her. "Um, hello? What am I supposed to do, pretend you're not telling me about the most romantic things I've ever heard?"

Bella tilts her head back and forth in reluctant agreement- she clearly doesn't buy that my curiosity solely stems from the foreignness of their grandiose love story, but she doesn't argue.

"Because it is," I confide. "I didn't know boys in high school could be like that. And I'm really happy for you, Bells. You deserve all the lovey-dovey stuff, and every time you tell me something about Egg-ward, he gets a few more little-sister points from me. Since my opinion 'matters a great deal,' and all."

"It does. He's big on family, and he told me he found you…endearing. Can only wonder why," she jokes. "He says you're a bit hard to read, too. Not as hard as me…different, but still hard."

Me? I think confusedly. "I'll have you know I can be endearing, thank you very much. Even though he and I have only interacted, like, twice."

"He's usually a pretty perceptive guy."

"And a good guesser."

"Yeah. That too."

We fall into a comfortable silence, and my eyes gaze up at the screen. It's the infamous carnival scene- Allie's on the Ferris wheel with her date when Noah crashes their gondola, introducing himself and ignoring the poor guy next to her despite her obvious astonishment. I watch as Ryan Gosling hoists himself onto one of the spokes, hanging from a million feet in the air.

"Noah, cut it out."

"Now, will you go out with me?"

"What? No!"

"No?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know, because I don't want to?!"

"What? Well, you leave me no other choice then."

Allie's screams force my hands to tighten despite themselves in the soft cotton of Bella's comforter, my throat a little tight as the scene makes me remember a certain situation involving a cottonwood tree a day ago.

Reckless, I think to myself, looking away from the TV screen. Just plain stupid.

But I feel a subtle poke in my shoulder, a reminder that my sister is there, and she smiles at me warmly. "Thank you, Sophie," she says to me without any further elaboration. "I like being here. I like… I like doing this with you."

Thank you. I don't understand the sudden gratitude- it could be for the movie marathon, maybe for her bedroom, it's a total mystery. I look at her, the affectionate expression adorning her features, and all my other thoughts seem to slip away as my chest clenches. "How many times am I gonna have to tell you? I don't think big sisters are supposed to thank little sisters as much as you do."

"Still. I just wanted you to know. That I'm thankful, I mean."

In a moment of boldness, I reach over with my arm and give her knee a squeeze. "This is how things are supposed to be," I tell her quietly. "How they should've been."

"It's been…it's been a really long time, hasn't it?"

Her words could mean anything, but I think I understand. Yeah, I think. It has.

"Nah…just a little while. But I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you, so we've got the longest, hugest, while in the world to make up for everything we've missed."

She smiles beautifully. "I like the sound of that."

I'm fairly confident that I wound up falling asleep on Bella's carpet somewhere in the middle of watching A Walk to Remember, but to my surprise, I wake up in my own bed. Drowsily, I glance at my surroundings and try to recall if I'd woken up in the night and left half-awake, but nothing comes to mind. It's only after a quick glance out the window that I forget about my confusion as soon as it arrives – it's only drizzling, which means it's perfect weather to go for a run.

Regionals start this upcoming weekend and I have practice tomorrow - despite Dad's randomly critical comments as of late, I need to be at the top of my game during the next few days. 'Rest' doesn't seem like a compatible concept with peak performance, and since I've already missed my meeting with Coach Friday morning because of my father's newfound reluctance, I can't afford to give any more reasons to be benched.

I tiredly throw on some running gear and lace up my sneakers, my movements sluggish from sleep. I have no idea what time it is, and the cloudy skies make it difficult to discern whether or not it's morning or afternoon. Trudging down the stairs, I swipe a palm over the pillow imprint on my cheek, tucking my phone in my back pocket. Six-minute mile, I mentally demand. I can do it. It's not too much faster than last year's run-time. It'll be easy-breezy, and Coach won't even mention Friday's meeting once he sees how much effort I'm putting into my speed.

As I tighten my ponytail and round the corner, my eyes widen dramatically at the sight of Seth Clearwater sitting on my living room couch opposite Dad and Harry. His eyes widen, too, but he looks a lot happier to see me than I am about seeing him.

"Wha-Seth?" I ask incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

Dad gets up and slaps a hand on my shoulder, tucking me in for a side hug I'm too bewildered to reciprocate. "Sophie, manners," he says under his breath. "Harry was in the neighborhood, Billy's coming over later to watch a game with us."

Harry nods and holds up an ice-cold Budweiser in agreement, and the sight of it forces my eyes to wander over to the digital clock above our TV. 2:34 PM.

Jesus Christ, I realize in shock. Why do I keep oversleeping? Why didn't anyone wake me up?

"I sorta tagged along," Seth says brightly from his seat across the room, his happiness a sharp contrast to the healing cuts on his forehead. "As you can see, I'm still alive!"

"That's…that's, uh, good. How're you…feeling?" I ask awkwardly. His smile doesn't diminish, but it curls with something a little too knowing. "Concussion. I might've mentioned that in our texts…or maybe I forgot? Good thing I came here, so I'd get the chance to tell you in person."

My cheeks turn ruddy – I can see the subtle mention of our one-sided conversation for what it is, but he doesn't seem particularly bothered by it. I nod my head and look back at Dad, my eyes darting to the side silently to communicate that I want nothing more than to leave.

Unfortunately, he either misunderstands me completely or simply doesn't care about my own plans, because he motions to me and glances at Seth. "You know, this works out great," he says to the long-haired boy. "You can't do much right now, can you, Seth? I've been telling this one she needs to relax with all the soccer stuff, anyhow."

Seth shakes his head proudly. "Nope. No running, no 1v1s, no physical activity whatsoever, except for walking until I'm in the clear. Sorry, Sophie."

Everyone in the room seems to look at me to have some sort of response, and I begin to get the distinct idea that there's a conversation being had that I'm not exactly a part of. "Well, that stinks. Sorry, Seth," I say shortly. "Dad, I'm gonna go on a run. I'll be back later."

"Not right now, you aren't, kiddo. We have company."

Oh, come on, I rage mentally, feeling the urge to stomp my foot in protest. What is his deal? Running isn't even directly soccer-related, if you think about it. Exercise is healthy.

"But-"

He shakes his head, his face stern with his usual Police Chief-stoicism, and gives me a pat. "Why don't you kids walk on over to Sully's and, uh, hang out? You can do that, Seth?" Dad doesn't look like he's really asking, more like he's making a request. He glances at Seth's father. "He can, uh… can he do that, Harry?"

"I'm sure he can handle it. Can't watch much of the game neither, anyway. Sue says no screen time."

I raise a brow at Seth, and he shrugs far too innocently to be believable. "Sounds good to me," he says to our fathers before meeting me with a wide grin. "I'm starved. And a walk sure would be nice, it'll distract me from the headache."

I yank on my dad's arm, my expression struck by anxiety at the prospect of having to push my run to a later time. "Dad," I whisper harshly. "I can't…Regionals is literally-"

"Sophie," he cuts me off. "Remember what I said yesterday. Now, head on out. Don't be rude, the kid came all the way here with a busted head to see you."

That he gave to himself, does anybody remember that part?! And frankly, I didn't invite him here! I have work to do!

"…Alright," I grit out between my teeth, my voice high-pitched with stress and the smile on my face plastered on. My fingers curl into my running shorts, and my eye feels dangerously close to twitching. "Sure. Sully's. Seth, let's go."

Seth practically bounces up from the sofa – concussion symptoms, my ass – and follows after me as I stalk out the front door. I don't wait for him as I fly down the steps, and by the time I hear the door close, I'm already standing on the sidewalk with my hands on my hips and my eyes looking at anything else but him. If I can't get a workout in the way I planned, then I'm gonna have to make up for it in whatever way I can.

In my head, all I can imagine is Coach sitting down in his chair, looking at me with a face full of disappointment. Falling short, I hear his voice say to me mentally. The Sophie I know would never just abandon all her responsibilities and head off somewhere…You've just set yourself even further back by about ten steps. Are you sure you're serious about this team?

"So…." He trails off, excitedly rubbing his hands together. "How do we get to Sully's from here-"

"I was supposed to go on a run." I don't mean for the words to blurt out of my mouth as brusquely as they do, but I rub at my eyes to ease away the strain of my own thoughts. I'm frustrated – I can't do what I need to do, I don't want to speak to Seth about the stupid tree, not to mention the fact that my stomach is beginning to growl – and everything in my tone conveys every ounce of it. "This is…this is not how my day was supposed to go. I was supposed to be productive. This is…I was supposed to go on a run. I wasted all of Friday, and I have practice tomorrow."

Seth's smile wavers, and for a moment, he looks a little self-conscious. "Uh…well, I'd offer to run with you, but my mom won't be too happy about that."

"That's just great."

"Well…you know what, I'll be okay! I was kinda milking it back there, anyway, my head doesn't hurt that-"

"Seth, stop," I snap quietly. "We can't. You can't. I guess I'll just have to…figure it out later."

We stand in front of each other uncomfortably; Seth shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as his gaze flickers between me and the sidewalk. If anything, the furrow between his eyes makes me feel like utter garbage for getting freaked out about something that he wouldn't really understand, and the fact that I feel like garbage about it makes me feel even more upset.

"I've got it!" he says, his eyes bright with an idea. "Okay, so we can't run, right? But what if we walk really fast? That's sort of like running. That's a good compromise."

Speed-walking to Sully's? I think, unimpressed. It's absolutely nothing like running, it'll do little to improve my run-time, and I'm not sure how much better of an option it is in regards to how it'll affect his injured brain. I raise a hand to my mouth, biting on my thumbnail as I nervously twist my charm bracelet. Hm.

With each second that passes, Seth looks more resigned than a second before it. Finally, I sigh and with an anxious shake of my head, I nod.

"Speed-walking," I sigh. "Let's go."

As it turns out, Seth and I have very different interpretations of what it means to 'walk really fast,' as he'd originally suggested.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to me that he'd rather take his sweet time and relish in the mile and a half distance we have to cover. I wind up having to stop in my moments and wait for him several times, reprimanding him every time he tries to pick up into a slow jog. The last thing I want is for him to jostle whatever's left of his brain cells after the fall from the tree. The last thing I want is to be responsible for his poor decisions.

"So, uh, I noticed you weren't really responding to my texts?" Seth pipes up, disturbing the silence that's settled between us. He rubs the back of his neck, the tops of his ears red, and waves it off. "No big deal, I realize you're super, super busy. You've got Regionals coming up, that's crazy!"

Somewhere, there's a foreign version of myself that'd be tickled at the reminder. As of now – something that's subject to change, given the circumstances – I'm on the roster for one of the most important games I'll ever play. There's a version of myself that dreamed of exactly this.

But for some reason, it makes my body run cold and my stomach tighten. I nod my head. "Yeah," I say with a choked laugh. "Crazy."

"Are you excited?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, Varsity. I mean… you don't really sound excited? Is that an athlete thing? I think it's probably an athlete thing, being so serious and all. You probably do this stuff all the time."

I glance at him- his long hair is pulled back into a braid, something I didn't notice before. The at-home stitches are somewhere hidden underneath thick, dark locks; out of sight. Regardless, it's the first time I've seen him without long strands of his hair whipping around his face from the wind or plastered to his face from sweat, and I realize how… boyish… he looks. Wide puppy-dog eyes, a serene expression without even the faintest hint of judgment, that persistent, one-dimpled smile of his never leaving his face. I'm not serious, I think. You're just unserious.

"How's your head? For real," I ask. Seth looks a little surprised at the swift change of conversation, and unconsciously, he feels for something hidden underneath his tied-back hair.

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"It hurts, which sucks," he says, his smile tight with discomfort. "But…y'know since we're being honest, it could've been worse. I actually feel pretty great, all things considered."

He looks down at his shoes, his cheeks blooming a dark, flushed color. He sucks in a breath between his teeth that makes me raise a brow, and I wonder if he's hurt even worse than I thought. My wrists start to wring at my sides as I wait for whatever he's trying not to say, or rather, trying to say very, very carefully.

"I didn't realize… you remembered. Us being kids, and all. That was real, right? Like, I didn't imagine you saying something about that?"

"Really," I state blandly, feeling my hackles rise at his shyness. I don't know why I'm so annoyed – maybe it's his total nonchalance, the fact that he's here. The fact that he knew something I didn't even though maybe I should've, on top of everything else. "That's what you want to talk about."

"…So you don't remember. Dang," he breathes out a chuckle. "We were only little, it's not that big a deal, I guess. Oh well."

I have no clue why this particular statement breaks the camel's back, why it simultaneously makes my lungs tighten and makes me want to slap him across the face. I feel so aggravated that I wind up speedwalking past him yet again, only to whirl around and point a finger right in his chest.

"Do you realize I nearly crapped my pants when I saw you fall from that stupid tree?! When you were sitting there, bleeding from your big, fat head, you were joking around and I was wondering if you had brain damage? I didn't even know what to do, you…you idiot!" I snap. "You wanna talk about something from years ago like I didn't just see you crack your skull open two days ago? Jeez, is anything a big deal to you?!"

"Var…Sophie-"

"-No, I'm not finished! I have no idea why you did something so dumb in the first place, why you decided to horse around and act like a little kid. You wouldn't even be in this situation if you'd just followed the rules –"

"Uh, Sophie-"

"-And then you show up at my house- uninvited, by the way! Like you didn't get the message when I wasn't replying to you, and you have the nerve to keep joking around like everything's freaking fine, a-and you haven't even, y'know, apologized –"

Two strong hands grip me by the shoulders, and the movement catches me so off guard that all I can do is shut my mouth abruptly and blink. Seth's looking at me like I'm the world's biggest psycho, and maybe I am – I have no idea why I'm so upset or why the words keep spilling out of my mouth like my brain and my tongue have severed their connection to each other. He turns me towards the outside of a building, and belatedly, I realize in the midst of our tense walking, we'd arrived.

"…We're here," he says, eyes flickering to the large Pepsi sign. A small table of teenagers I don't recognize is sitting right beyond the large, glass window we're standing in front of, staring at us with the fascination one might expect from an audience at a movie theater. Seth gives them a cheerful wave, and only one boy closest to the window reluctantly waves back.

My mind goes blank, but Seth is already steering me towards the two swinging doors of Sully's by the shoulders from behind me. He pats a quick rhythm on my back, his braid swishing back and forth as he plops us into the same booth we sat in the last time we were here.

"Come on, cranky," he sing-songs lowly, pushing me into my seat as he motions for me to 'stay' with his hands. He doesn't sit down, instead, he lingers right next to the table and rubs his hands eagerly again. "You can yell at me all you want when I get back. What'dya wanna eat?"

"Wha-? I'm not hungry. Seth-"

He raises a skeptical eyebrow, gives me a narrowed, playful look. "Uh-huh, okay. Don't move!"

Seth drains his milkshake noisily. I scowl at him with my arms folded across my chest, neither of us saying anything with the exception of his insistent affirmations.

"Yum," he says loudly, munching on a French fry on his chicken-finger platter. "Dee-licious."

I look away from him out the window, ignoring the sight of the greasy fast-food sitting on the table. "This is actually pretty good. We should come here again," he confides. He snaps two oily fingers together like he's had an epiphany, and he looks at me with a slight tilt of his head. "You know what? Next time, we should all come here together! Jake, you, your sister…I could bring my friends, too."

Again? Together?

"Your friends?"

"Yeah. Brady and Collin, we go to school together on the Rez," he explains casually. "They're the ones I play soccer with, I think I mentioned 'em. Man…we should all play together, like an actual game. I'll be on your team. I can't wait to see their faces when they realize who they're up against. And we can play at First Beach again, it'll make it even more embarrassing when they're tripping in sand holes."

"Why? Because I'm a girl?"

"Nah. 'Cause you're gonna pulverize them into tiny little pieces, and it's gonna be huh-larious."

Oh. "Well, you're out for the count for however long," I snipe. "Y'know, since you almost killed yourself."

He waves a lazy hand at me like I'm making a bigger deal out of what happened than it is. "I've been tripping and falling over things my whole life. A concussion's barely nothin' to me."

I ignore his grammatical incorrectness, and I glower at him. "Well, I haven't known you your whole life. I didn't realize your physical wellbeing mattered so little to you."

"Well, that's not really true. Did you forget again?"

His proud smile serves as a reminder of the one conversation he's chosen to harp upon; as if that's the conversation I want to have. "I didn't remember," I tell him honestly. "My dad told me. I've forgotten all about it, but he told me all about your…habit. Were you just…planning on not saying anything about…that? That you had some weird, hair-pulling thing?"

"…I wouldn't call it weird."

"Your childhood urge to rip the hair out of my head doesn't really rub me as something normal, Seth."

"That wasn't even…it wasn't like…whatever," he stammers, his expression sobering. "Anyway, back to what I was saying-"

"Oh, so you can talk about whatever you want, but you expect me to just pretend you didn't give me a heart attack-"

"Anyway," he drawls, dunking a chicken finger until it's dripping with a truly astounding amount of honey mustard before shoving it in his mouth. "You can invite your sister, too, when we can finally play again. I only got a chance to say hello to her, the first time I was at your house…I'd invite Leah, but I don't think that'd be a very good idea."

I wrinkle my nose at every one of his suggestions, and to my disdain, he places a chicken finger on a napkin and pushes it towards me. I push it back, the only thing on my mind the damning image of Bella finally meeting Seth and nagging me about her own lovesick projections. "Bella doesn't know the first thing about soccer, and she'd probably wanna bring Egg-ward," I explain lightly. "Her totally-gorgeous-model- Vogue-magazine boyfriend. They probably won't even get to play because they'll be too busy sucking each other's faces off as they confess their undying love for each other, or whatever it is they do. But he liked my soccer game that one time, I think."

He glances up from his food; his eyes amused. "Egg-ward? I'm guessing that was the guy she brought to your qualifier….they didn't do a very good job of just pretending to be friends, in my opinion."

"Yeah. I had to come up with a nickname for him. Edward Cullen. With a name like that, he sounds like he should be in Little Women."

I smile at my own joke, but Seth stills in his movements. He carefully places his chicken finger down back in the little, paper-covered red basket on the table, and doesn't meet my eyes.

"Cullen?" he asks, staring down. "Her boyfriend…he's a Cullen? You know that for sure?"

"Yeah," I say, a little confused at his reaction until it occurs to me. I nod my head with realization. "Your mom works at the hospital, I forgot. She probably knows his dad, he's, like, the chief surgeon or something over there."

He doesn't move for a second, and quickly, he shakes his head of his thoughts and smiles again. "…We might not be able to play at First Beach, then," he says, his voice strange despite the cheerful look on his face. "Guess we can play in Forks, but…I should let you know, if Edward's invited, then I might not be able to come. I don't think any of us would be able to."

"Wait, what? Why?"

Seth doesn't answer for a moment, his face making a series of complicated expressions before it settles on embarrassment. "The tribe… well, it's kind of hard to explain. Basically, the Cullen family isn't really…'welcome' on our land…do you want my fries?"

I ignore his latter question. "Not 'welcome'. But they just moved here…I met Dr. Cullen and two of his other kids when Bella needed to go to the hospital, they all seemed really nice."

"I told you, it's hard to explain."

What? I think, baffled by this information. "Is it because… they're racist, or something? Or does La Push have a ban on people who're freakishly good-looking? I don't get it."

He chokes on a sip of his beverage, and he struggles not to cough as he swallows it down. "That's the funniest thing I've ever heard," he says in a sputtered laugh. "I'm so telling everyone at home you said that."

I throw my hands up and quickly fold them back over my chest. I don't really know how anything I said was funny, but I suppose Seth's concussion may be skewing his judgment. "I dunno, it's not like you're not giving me much to go off of."

He looks at me, and he shakes his head good-naturedly. "You should ask my dad about it, the next time you see him. But, um… I'd maybe leave out that Bella's dating one of…a Cullen, if I were you. The Quileutes don't exactly have a great history with their family, even though I'm sure he's a nice enough guy."

Not for the first time today, I'm starting to get the hint that there's another conversation being had here that I'm not exactly a part of, but this time, I don't pry. "Okay," I say amicably, veiling my own feelings of suspicion. "And…you'd tell me if you knew something bad, right? Like, if I should tell Bella to stay away from him?"

Edward said he wasn't a criminal, but what if he lied? What other reasons could there possibly be to make his whole family banned from a whole reservation?

Seth swallows roughly, but he nods. "Definitely. I just don't see the point in looking for problems where there aren't any, y'know? He seemed normal enough at your game. I just…trust me, I'd tell you if all the hoopla was worth believing."

Normal enough. Huh. Unconsciously, I grab at the chicken finger sitting all alone on the grease-seeped napkin and rip off a contemplative bite, my thoughts anywhere else. Maybe I should just ask Edward myself. This elusive stuff is starting to get on my nerves.

Before I can say anything else, my eyes flicker to Seth, who's practically beaming at me as I eat the stupid chicken he left for me. My cheeks flush and I set it down, nearly having forgotten I shouldn't be eating this crap in the first place, but he pushes his half-eaten basket of chicken fingers over to me. "You can have the rest, I'm stuffed."

I push it back. "I'm not hungry."

"Liar. C'mon, you'll feel better. Lots and lots."

"I feel fine."

"You're hangry. Big time. I could tell, with all that yelling you were doing."

I struggle for a moment, my face scrunched with indecision. My brain immediately flashes to Coach, the way he'd grabbed at my side weeks ago, but Seth's puppy-dog face is dangerously tempting. He pushes it towards me again, his dark eyes soft and pleased.

From skipping post-game chats, interrupting my plans, and now practically coaxing me with food I know I shouldn't eat, I'm starting to think that Seth is going to make it very, very hard to avoid giving into bad habits. There's something distinctly undisciplined, something unserious about him - it's as terrifying as it is maybe a little titillating.

"Whatever. If I eat this, are you gonna stop trying to shove this down my throat? I hope you don't think this counts as an apology for the headache you've put me through these last couple of days."

"Yup, yup, yup, I hear you. I've gotta groveling to do, I get it, no points me for me. You're still in the lead. You want ketchup, or honey mustard, or-?"

"-Seth."

"Got it. Shutting up, now." He mocks zipping his mouth shut.

We don't talk for the rest of my meal, but the proud smile that curls at Seth's lips is hardly subtle.

And as confusing as is, I find that it's really hard not to return the favor.

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! Thank you all for staying tuned for chapter 10! How are we all feeling? Thoughts, comments? I'd love to hear what y'all have to say. As we can see, some more development between Seth and Sophie, and some hints at the Cullen-Quileute drama. Leave a review to let me know what you think! xoxo