fifteen.

(Leah)

Leah has always considered Charlie Swan as good as family, and she has no doubt that many more people on the Rez think exactly the same. Granted, Charlie might not have exactly seen eye to eye with Billy on a lot of things over the years (they fight like brothers, for God's sake, especially when their kids are involved), and maybe he has never been invited to their bonfires. Maybe there will always be things that they will disagree upon, and perhaps he won't ever understand certain traditions the tribe hold — but that's exactly what he is to them all anyway. Family.

Besides, it's not as if there are any other pale-faces who are a permanent fixture on the reservation. Charlie has spent every major holiday and family celebration in La Push for the last eighteen years. Birthdays, weddings, funerals — he always shows up for them. Every single time.

So maybe that's why Leah feels a little guilty as she soars down the one-ten towards him: his blue blood would absolutely kick her ass for speeding.

Shit. He'd not only kick her ass for speeding, but he'd probably find some way to ticket her for all the modifications Jacob has made to this damn car — family or not. Having to hang a little perilously off the edge of his driver's seat just so she is able to reach the pedals doesn't exactly scream safe. Charlie is a man of the law. He's still hellbent on nailing Sam for starting up a dangerous cult of Natives, no thanks to Bella.

Leah is imagining herself being arrested and hauled down to the station along with the rest of them — maybe, if she's lucky, they'll stick her in the same cell as her brother so she can finally spend some time with him — when suddenly her piercing scream erupts from within the car.

She throws all her weight down onto the brakes and the Rabbit jerks violently underneath her, its tyres squealing painfully in protest as she grips the steering wheel, her white knuckles in a desperate bid to keep it steady. A blinding surge of panic rises. She can't breath. And — and —

— the world comes to a grinding halt. There is a moment wherein her vision whites out in crippling relief, just as Embry Call's voice rings out across the empty highway.

"See! Told you she'd stop!" he yells cheerfully. "You owe me ten bucks!"

Leah slumps in the seat, her breath coming hard and fast. Just off the side of La Push Road, she can see Quil looking at the scene as if his stomach has dropped right out of his ass. She could swear his legs wobble — in relief? — but perhaps that's just her vision still.

Embry laughs at his friend (or at her, she's not sure, but either way he is clearly unfazed that the Rabbit's gleaming red hood is only a few mere inches away from his legs — that, if she had been a second too late, he would be roadkill right now) and Leah screams again. She lashes out at the steering wheel, beating it with the palm of her hands, ignoring the sparks of pain which flash through her left wrist.

"The fuck, Embry!"

As if the words are a summons, Embry lopes over to the driver's side with that triumphant, shit-eating grin still stretching over his broad features and leans down, his arm arm braced against the roof of the car as he all but sticks his head through the open window.

He clears his throat, announcing himself. "Licence and registration, please, ma'am."

"The fuck are you doing!" she yells over him. "I could have killed you!"

"Nah," he says, beaming still. "Wouldn't have even broken a bone. Might have hurt the Rabbit a bit, though — you would have wrapped around me like a tree! . . ." The smile falters slightly, his only sign of remorse. "Well, it would have been Jake who killed me in the end — not you. Don't worry about it."

"You're insane."

"I haven't seen you around in a while," he says instead of replying — or maybe he's just choosing not to listen to reason, as crazy as he is. "Where are you off to?"

"Forks," she replies tightly. "What's it to you?"

"No reason." He shrugs, unoffended. "Just thought you might be running away or somethin', speed you were going. Jake would have freaked. Hey — Quil, come over, man! Come say hi to Leah!"

Leah wants to tell him to leave him alone, but the words don't quite come out right. "What are you even doing, Embry?"

"Heard Jake's car," he chirps, oblivious to the tightness still in her voice. "Spent enough time watching him build it to know the sound of this engine." A large hand pats the red paintwork with a sense of pride. "Anyway, we thought we'd catch up. Y'know, just in case you were skipping town."

Leah very much doubts there being any kind of joint decision — not when Quil so obviously feels about her the way he does. She looks through the windshield at him as he drags their feet toward them, staring unblinkingly at Embry all the while, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Leah thinks that maybe Embry is not the only one he is mad at.

"I'm not skipping town," she says. "I told you — I'm going to Forks."

"Cool. Shotgun."

Leah watches helplessly as Embry bounds over to the passenger side, her mouth hanging open as he opens the door and collapses the front seat in on itself before beckoning Quil in before him.

"What — no. You're not coming with me."

"Why not?" he asks over the sound of Quil clambering into the back. Leah glances over her shoulder, but her would-be friend still refuses to look at her even now. "Forks is dangerous territory."

"Neutral territory," Quil mutters, spreading his huge legs as far as they can go. His knee digs into the back of Leah's seat, which she knows will not move an inch with the way it's been welded. Petulantly, she pushes back on the lump sticking into her spine. Take that.

"Infested," Embry corrects blithely, closing the door. He slaps his thighs. "Let's go!"

Leah glares at him. "I'm going to Charlie Swan's," she says as if that will force the boys back out of Jacob's car.

Embry whistles. "Even worse. You're gonna need someone to watch your back." He doesn't even bother reaching for the seat belt, but instead looks at Leah expectantly, waiting for her to get the car moving again. And when she makes no move to put the Rabbit into drive, he has the audacity to say, "You wanna switch places? Looks like you can't even reach the pedals."

She straightens in her seat, indignant and frustrated beyond belief. Boys. "I can drive this car just fine."

"She reached them in time to stop crashing into you," Quil says from behind them. "Jake is going to kill you for that move. You could have really hurt—"

"Nothing happened, jeez. Lighten up, man. Say what you need to say and get over it."

Leah watches in the rear view mirror as Quil shrinks down on the back seats and crosses his arms with a scowl. "Shut up," he mutters.

Embry snorts. "Whatever, dude."

Leah narrows her eyes at the mirror. "Say what?"

"Just that he's really sorry, aren't you, Quil? That he'll never speak to you like that ever again, and he's actually really, really grateful for what you did because he loves—"

"Shut up, Embry!" Quil shoves the passenger seat. "God. Don't you ever shut up? I can apologise for myself, you know."

Embry twists in his seat and looks over the back of the headrest, extending a hand to Leah. "Go on, then."

"I agree with him," Leah says, but it's Embry who she's still glaring at and Embry who will be the first person to be thrown out of this goddamn car — if she could manage it on her own, that is. Maybe if Quil really wants to make it up to her, he will help. "Don't you ever shut up?"

Embry grins. "No."

She presses her lips together and exhales forcefully through her nose. "You are so annoying, do you know that?"

"I know," he says with that same self-satisfied expression, and Leah can't help but huff a laugh in spite of herself. "Are we going, or what? You're kind of blocking the road."

It's not tourist season and the weather is turning miserable, so there's no other cars — probably not for miles. But she coaxes the car onwards anyway, sneaking more glances at Quil in the rear view mirror the whole way.

He looks like himself. Well, mostly. He looks like Embry. And Jake. And Seth. And the rest. His face is older and his hair is cropped short, and he's got an intensity about him which was never there before. Leah is not surprised. This is what all of Sam's little . . . pack looks like. It's practically a prerequisite.

But it's still Quil. Taller and sharper and broader, but still Quil. She can see him in his roundish face, his wide nose. And in spite of his bad mood, there is still that suggestion of mischief in his eyes, that boyishness which has always made her think that he is the real troublemaker out of Jacob's friends.

"I'm sorry," he says when he catches her fourth glance. He clears his throat uncomfortably. And then, louder, "I am. I'm really sorry, Leah. I didn't mean any of it, I swear."

"I know," she replies quietly, hands tight on the steering wheel. But she didn't know — because his words had hit home, and she is still convinced there was some truth in them. Like a drunk spewing sober thoughts, and all that. Quil only said what everyone else has been thinking ever since Sam left her.

"And . . ." Embry eggs on, ever oblivious to the awkwardness around him.

Quil scowls at the back of his friend's seat, but says, "And I'll do anything you want. I'll — I'll eat all the casserole in your fridge even though I hate it. And after that I'll boycott Emily's food for a week—"

"A week!" Embry cries.

Quil twists his lips, suddenly hesitant. It almost makes Leah laugh. Almost.

"Well, maybe not a week," he begins backpedalling, "but a few days. I'll do it. I — Leah, I feel awful. Truly. Please. Please please please, please say you'll forgive me."

Her reflection arches into the image of an unimpressed eyebrow which she has perfect from years of suffering it from her mom. Now it is Quil's turn to suffer. "What else?"

He blinks and fumbles for his words. "I'll walk your dog!" he exclaims suddenly, clearly clinging desperately to his bright idea. "For a whole month."

Leah's eyebrow rises higher still. "I don't have a dog."

Quil mutters underneath his breath, but she hears enough to know the words are obscene. Fantastically so. And she thinks that if she wasn't trying to make him squirm, if she wasn't trying to focus on the road, she would have offered a high-five.

Embry snickers. "You can babysit Seth."

"He does not need babysitting," Leah snaps. "And neither do I, for that matter."

"Aw, c'mon. We're not babysitting you, it's just Jake would lose his shit if he found out that we let you just walk into Forks with no protection—"

"Let me? And what does he care, anyway?" she demands hotly, reminded of her conversation with Billy. "I haven't seen him in nearly a week. I don't think he's even been home for his dad at all—"

"He hasn't."

"Em," Quil warns in a low tone.

The car speeds up along the one-oh-one underneath her touch, but not one of her passengers seems to notice. "What do you mean, he hasn't? Where the hell has he been?"

Embry fidgets in his seat and turns his attention to the road markings blurring along it. "Nowhere." And then, "I can't tell you. Quil can't either, before you ask. So don't."

Leah's foot slips off the gas, bringing them back to an almost normal speed. She has recently understood the difference between can't and won't when it comes down to these boys telling her the truth, and she knows what it is that Embry is trying to say. "Sam. He's ordered you not to say anything. Or," she spits, "specifically, not to tell me. Hasn't he?"

"It's not —"

"It's just Alpha bullshit," Quil jumps in. Leah has the distinct feeling that he has just saved Embry from something, what with the way the other boy blows a breath and drops his shoulders in the corner of her vision.

"I'm going to kill him."

"Who?" ask both boys. "Jake?"

"No. Sam."

"Right," Embry scoffs. "Sure. You just missed the turning for Charlie's, by the way."

Leah barely remembers to check her blind spots and swears underneath her breath as she waits for another car to pass before swinging the Rabbit back around. "You don't believe me?"

"No," Embry says plainly as they turn into Charlie's short, curved street. "But we'll help you, if you want."

"Thanks. Although, I'm not sure you could even if you wanted to."

"You'd be surprised."

Leah raises an eyebrow but chooses to let the comment slide. Instead she follows the road leading to the house, because she knows there's no use in getting angry when she's about to see Charlie. Not when he's about to do her a solid like this.

The red truck on the police chief's driveway, with his cruiser tucked behind it, reminds Leah for the first time since pulling away from her own house that she's probably going to have to come face-to-face with Bella, too.

Great. Just great. So much for not getting angry.

Both Quil and Embry recognise the beaten truck; their breath hitches almost comically and their faces set in a way that makes Leah think they just might hate the girl, too. Until—

"God, it stinks around here. Roll your window up, Leah."

"Won't make any difference," Quil comments. "You'll just have to leave them down for the rest of the day when we get home."

"And they say that wolves mark their territory," Embry says, wrinkling his nose.

Leah frowns. She can't smell anything.

"Her bloodsucker's been back for all of five minutes," Embry continues, "and it's almost like—" He turns his nose towards the open window, takes a deliberate lungful of air and turns back again. "—ugh. It smells worse than it did last week."

"What the hell were you doing here last week?" Quil demands, his voice pitching along the edge of a whine like he has missed out on an adventure.

"You know, when that little leech whisked Bella off to Whereversville, the day we buried . . ."

Leah finishes the sentence for him, her throat dry. "Harry."

"Yeah. Sorry." Embry reaches out to her, looking chagrined as he begins to awkwardly rub her arm in what's probably the sweetest but most apology she's ever received.

"S'fine." Leah takes a deep breath and schools her face into the best look of indifference she can muster. She will never live it down if she cries anymore than she already has — especially in front of these kids. "So this smell issue. It's one of your werewolf things, isn't it."

"Yup," Quil says. "We can smell everything, hear everything." It sounds like something he's happy about, maybe even excited — at least, if it wasn't for whatever's plaguing his nose right now or the sense of awkwardness which fills the car after Embry's half-mention of Harry.

"Great," Leah drawls. She's going to have to start taking two showers a day, isn't she? But at least they're not in her head. That would be insufferable. She doesn't envy them in that regard. "Can you hear who's inside?"

Both boys are quiet for a moment, considering. Embry even cocks his head. "Just two people," he says, letting his massive hand fall from her shoulder. "And the scent's not that strong — I mean, not like there's one here or anything. Just traces of them."

Shivering, Leah braces herself and opens the door. She really doesn't want to have to deal with Bella twice in one day, but she feels better than none of the girl's vampires are around, not that it had even crossed her mind before putting the phone down on Charlie and high-tailing it into the car. If there had been any of . . . them about, then Embry and Quil probably wouldn't have let her out otherwise.

Babysitting, she scoffs internally to herself. She's very nearly nineteen-years-old, for God's sake. "Wait here."

"No way!" Quil half-yells. "We're coming, too!"

Halfway out the car already, Leah cranes her head over her shoulder and looks back at the boy-wolves, her feet on the concrete and her hand on the door. "You're not wearing any shirts."

"So? Bella won't mind. Jake used to go without all the time."

"Idiot," Quil groans.

"I mean . . ." Embry continues underneath Leah's level stare. "Well, he did! I think it made her really uncomfortable, actually, but you know Jake, he probably misinterpreted that for something like—"

Leah sighs, more for show if anything else — because suddenly she doesn't mind all that much if the boys want to follow her, but she's not about to admit it. She's not that stupid. "Fine! Come on then, you two."

Quil and Embry scramble out of the car like Christmas has come early, pushing and shoving one another and leaving Leah shaking her head at their playful antics. She has to bite back a smile all the way up the steps of the Swan's house.

Babysitting. Honestly. More like she's babysitting them.

But she does wish that she could see herself with them when she rings the doorbell. With Embry on her left shoulder and Quil on her right, towering over her and using up every free inch of space on the porch — and shirtless to boot — it's no wonder that Bella Swan's jaw drops when she opens the door.