Rachel
What just happened?
I sit in my car, by the side of the road, waiting for Paul to get dressed.
Did I really just see someone turn into a wolf? Am I finally losing it? I am, aren't I? I'm going crazy. It's happening.
The wolf had disappeared behind some shrubs. Then Paul told me to go back to the car, unless I wanted to see him naked.
Then what happened? I made myself look like an idiot. I hesitated. I just stood there like I couldn't make up my goddamn mind.
He laughed and told me he didn't care if I didn't care.
Ugh!
I try to shake off the uncomfortable feeling before my skin gets hot. But I have to admit, I did try to see if I could catch a glimpse of him from the road. I'm so embarrassed with myself.
Right to hell. No pit stops. Express lane.
"Hey!" Paul startles me, getting into the passenger seat, "sorry," he says with an amused smile on his face. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"No. I'm just… jumpy," I admit, with both of my hands on the wheel even though we aren't even moving. I don't know what to say to him after that… Except, "you turned into a wolf!"
"Yeah," he grins at me.
"A whole fucking wolf!"
"Is it weird?"
"Um, yeah!"
We sit in the car together, by the side of the road, for about an hour while Paul fills me in on everything. Who all are wolves. How they can hear each other's thoughts when they are… what's the word? Oh, right! Phased! That Sam is the Alpha and he imprinted on Emily and that's why him and Leah are no longer a thing. How Leah is actually a wolf; the only girl wolf. How Kim was in love with Jared and how that all worked out for them. He goes on about how the Cullens are the cold ones (aka vampires) and Bella Swan is marrying one of them because I guess they don't eat people. How Jacob, my brother, is also a wolf. How he's fallen in love with Bella. How she'll likely become a vampire someday which means they'll be sworn enemies. How it's broken his heart and there is no use looking for him. Especially not in his wolf form.
"So Jacob did that um thing.. He uh… he imprinted on Bella?" I ask, leaning my shoulder against the driver seat. Paul and I awkwardly sit to face each other in my small red Mazda.
"No. He didn't," Paul replies. "She's not the one. But when he does imprint, he will forget all about Bella Swan. That I know for sure."
"Yeah?" I ask, "how do you know?"
He clears his throat, awkwardly. He looks down at the sleeve of his brown leather jacket and gently fidgets with a loose string.
"Oh. So you've imprinted?" I ask casually.
"Yeah," he replies softly. He looks up. His eyes connect with mine and he doesn't look away. After a long moment he breathes in as though he has been deprived of oxygen, "I have," he whispers and releases a long exhale.
"Oh… Oh…" I sit up. I lean my back against the seat and stare right ahead of me, out the windshield. "Ohhhh."
He has imprinted…imprinted… on me?… I try to recall everything that Paul has told me about imprinting and what it means. This whole day has been like something out of the Twilight Zone. How do I process this? Paul Lahote, this 16-year-old boy who I met for the first time yesterday first reveals that he is a wolf — or a shapeshifter to be precise — and then that he has imprinted on me. So he's like… in love with me or something?
It's like love at first sight. The wolf's nature seeks out the perfect mate. He loves her more than anything — more than life — and it grounds him. So no matter how strong the wolf pulls at him, he will never abandon his human form. Because he can never leave her. Not ever. She's too precious to him.
"Say something," Paul says in a low voice as though he is worried about startling me again.
"What the hell am I supposed to say to that?" I quickly turn my head in his direction, "you just told me that the spirits of our ancestors have chosen me as some kind of assigned girlfriend for you! My will is no longer my own. My existence on the planet is so you can have some kind of… Mating partner? Ew," I cringe.
"It's not like that," Paul replies with a panicked look in his eye. Obviously this conversation is not going in the direction he hoped it would.
"What's it like then?!" I snap, "because if you think I'm just going to roll over and play 'little submissive wifey'…"
"When I told you about imprinting before you said it sounded romantic. Like destiny or written in the stars or something," he says trying to turn my words against me.
A harsh laugh erupts from my throat, "as a fucking fairytale, Paul. Not… whatever this is! You know what? I'm out! Just imprint on someone else."
"I can't, Rachel. It doesn't work that way. I didn't do this on purpose," Paul's voice is strained as he attempts to deflect any responsibility.
"Paul, it's getting late. I need to go home. Get out," I reply; my voice is flat.
"We're in the middle of nowhere," Paul says, "you're going to just leave me here?"
"Hah," another harsh laugh fills the silence, "something tells me that you'll be just fine," I roll my eyes. Wolf-boy scared of being left on the side of the road? Sure.
"My truck is at your house," he says, stubbornly and then crosses his arms. Paul leans back against the passenger seat, not moving.
I press my lips together, "fine," I start the car, "I'll drive you back but then you leave me the hell alone for the next three weeks until I figure out what to do about Jacob so I can get the hell out of this town."
Paul doesn't say another word.
The drive back is tense. We don't speak which is good because I don't even know what I would say to him. This has all been too much. Not just this experience — the wolf and imprint thing — but just being back in general. Jacob running away. Mom…
My breath catches in my throat as we pull into the drive of the house and I see the roof for the first time in the light of day.
"What's wrong?" Paul asks, forgetting that I am no longer speaking to him.
"The roof," I whisper. I forgot that I was no longer speaking to him either.
I hadn't noticed it last night. I had arrived too late in the evening and it was dark outside. I step out of the Mazda and look up at the dilapidated state of the roof. Half of it is growing wild with spores and moss. The other half is covered in a grey tarp that has been haphazardly thrown over the rotting shingles and held in place by what looks like a 30 pound dumbbell.
Is that Jacob's handy work? No. Don't do that. It's not Jacob's fault. He's just a kid.
Paul gets out of the Mazda and stands next to me.
"How long has it been like this?" I ask Paul.
"A while," he replies, "since I've been coming around, at least."
I shake my head. It's all worse than I thought. Things have literally fallen apart without me. My first mistake was thinking that Jacob was mature enough to take care of everything. I put my need to get away from this town and the shame for what happened to Mom ahead of my baby brother and now look… None of this should have ever fallen on his shoulders. Dad's not taking care of himself; his diabetes is obviously not being monitored or treated. The fridge is broken… if he doesn't get sick from uncontrolled diabetes, he'll probably get sick from spoiled food or hurt from this damn roof caving in.
Mom would have never let this happen. Fuck.
I drag my hand over my face from my forehead to my chin, "fucking fabulous," I whisper in defeat.
"Are you okay?" Paul asks. His voice is tender yet strong. I don't like how it makes me feel. My ears welcome his soothing tone and I feel warm and safe which at first is comforting until I realise that it's probably some kind of wolf-trap.
"You can go now," I look up at him. His brown eyes reflect sympathy and concern; something that communicates he doesn't want to leave me.
Nonetheless, Paul nods and walks back to the truck. As I make my way to the porch steps I hear the engine start. Good he's going. However, when I turn around he remains frozen in the driver's seat with his eyes on me. I can't take this. I go inside and close the door. He remains in the driveway for a few more seconds before backing out.
"Any luck, Girly?" Dad asks, fishing around in the utensil drawer. It looks like he's preparing himself a can of soup.
"Jacob's a wolf," I mutter, watching out the window as Paul's car disappears down the road.
"Goddammit!" Dad rasps, slamming the utensil drawer shut. All the cutlery jangles inside. "Should have fucking known Lahote wasn't going to wait more than five minutes…"
"Why didn't you tell me?" I turn to look at my dad.
"And say what?" he clears his throat, "vampires moved in? Your brother runs on all fours and howls at the moon?"
"Maybe?"
"Oh, come on, Girly. You'd have had me committed," Dad rolls his eyes at the suggestion that I would have been receptive to finding out the legends are real. He wheals over to the stove and checks on his soup, "I suppose he told you that he's imprinted on you…"
"You know about that too?" I cross my arms.
"Sam told me," he explains.
"Right. The Alpha," I walk over to the cupboard and grab a bowl for his soup.
Dad nods, "I guess he broke it all down for you. You know everything now."
"I actually feel like I know more about the pack and the Cullens than I do about what's been going on around here, lately," I stand at the counter and look Dad in the eye. I put the bowl down. "Why didn't you tell me that the roof is caving in? Or that the fridge is busted? Or that you're using your wheelchair full-time now?" I ask with genuine concern.
"Now, you listen here, Girly," he is quick to shift into a strict tone. "I have things handled."
"Do you?" I cross my arms. "I assume you're on disability now. Is that enough to cover everything and fix the roof? And the fridge and any other appliance that you bought in the 80's that's about to break down?"
"It's enough to get by. Don't you worry about it," he says, shutting me down.
"Dad I-" I'm about to tell him that I want to help. That I'll get a roommate in Seattle so I can send money back. But I'm interrupted by the loud buzzing of my phone in my pocket.
I sigh, annoyed that I was unable to finish my through. I pull my phone out and see that the number calling is my new employer in Seattle. "I have to take this. We're not done," I point at him and then hurry upstairs.
I close the door to the room I am staying in. The air mattress is now completely flat on the floor. I shake my head. If Jacob doesn't come back tonight I'm going to sleep in his bed.
"Hello," I answer the call in my most employable tone.
"Good afternoon, may I speak to Rachel Black?" a young sounding man asks.
"Speaking," I reply and go to stand by the window.
"Hello, Rachel. I'm Todd. I'm calling from Tannenbaum; the dynamic analytics department. I wanted to give you a call to welcome you to the team and just inform you that we have yet to receive your direct deposit information for your weaky honorarium."
"Um, yeah. Thanks for calling, Todd," I frown. I'm confused. "I'm sorry. An honorarium? What is that?"
"Oh. Our unpaid interns get a weekly honorarium of $50 to pay for things like transit or lunches," the man on the phone explains.
This is a mistake, right?
"Wait. Unpaid interns?" I feel my stomach drop. "No. There's been a mistake. The job I applied for is entry level."
"No, Miss-"
"Yes!" I reply immediately. I think I know what job I applied for.
"Miss, we don't hire university students. Entry level positions require at least six months of experience. Now, once your six month internship has finished — if there is an opening — you may be considered."
My throat tightens, "can you please check with Harvey?" I reply, trying to keep my voice composed. I'm going to cry. "Harvey is the one who hired me. We spoke about salaries," tears flood my eyes.
"Miss, Harvey is no longer with the company. I am resuming his position and there aren't any notes here about offering you a salary. It says right here in black and white Rachel Black, intern."
Fuck. Who can afford an unpaid internship in Seattle? Not me. Not Rachel Black from La Push, Washington. My worst nightmare is coming true. I'm stuck here; there's no scholarship to bail me out this time.
I swallow back my tears and exhale a shaky breath, "um. Okay… um, Todd, thank you for the opportunity. However, I regret to inform you that I will not be able to accept the internship at this time."
"Oh… um. Are you sure? Tannenbaum doesn't really do internships that often. This is kind of a big deal. There might not be another time."
I know…
"Yeah," that's all I can manage to say, "goodbye," I add quickly and hang up because I am seconds away from crying.
Once the call ends the flood gate opens and I collapse to the floor, sobbing in my hands. Once again, my plans have vanished. No lacrosse. No internship. School is done. Here I am. Back in La Push. I'm a nobody with no direction. A pathetic mess.
Get it together, Girly.
That's what Mom would have said.
Fuck you, Mom! I did everything I was supposed to do! I did my best to take care of Jacob. I got scholarships. I went to university. I was going to get out of this shit town and make something of myself! I was going to send money home to help Dad take care of Jacob and fix the house!
The roof… Fuck. I need to know how bad it is.
I pick myself up off of the floor and hurry into the hallway. I pull at the cord above my head and slide down the old rickety ladder that opens up to the attic. Then I smell it. The rot. It's worse than yesterday now that it's damp. I hoist myself up into the dilapidated loft. In the light of day, I can see just how sunken in the roof is from inside. My eyes dart around, looking for the best point of entry so that I can get onto the roof and see how bad it is from the outside. The window in the corner, probably. Next to Mom's boxes that I had partially covered in an old tent last night. I step too quickly and my feet thump against the plywood floor.
"Girly, what are you doing up there?" Dad shouts from downstairs.
I ignore him.
I try to push the window up but it's a bitch to slide open. Parts of it are rusty and bloated from all of the water damage; I can't get it open. I grunt, pushing as hard as I can but only manage to slide it open a little bit. My eyes scan the attic looking for something — anything — that I can use to pry it open. A pile of Jacob's old crap catches my eye and I see a metal baseball bat laying on the floor. Okay; this might work. I pick it up and put the knob of the bat into the space that I had managed to open and then push down on the barrel. It opens a little bit more. I fit the grip into the opening and push down on the barrel even harder.
"Come on, you son of a bitch," I grunt, leaning all of my body weight onto the barrel until the window screeches open just enough for me to fit. The bat falls to the ground with a ping noise.
"Rachel?! What are you doing?" Dad shouts from downstairs again.
I ignore him again.
I cautiously lean out of the window, gripping some shingles. They shift in my hand. I gasp, letting go and quickly grab onto the window frame so I don't fall. My heart is pounding. I reach out with one hand and shake the gutter to assess its strength. It wobbles a little bit but I think it's structurally sound. I pull myself out the window, using the gutter and carefully step onto the roof. One of my feet sinks into the soggy shingles.
Fuck. This is such a bad idea.
Carefully, I crawl to the apex of the roof to where the tarp is stapled on. Peeling it back is not difficult; the staples pop one-by-one. I lift the grey barrier and look inside and can't believe that I see. Moosh. It's as if the shingles have all melted away. Whatever this tarp was supposed to do, it didn't work.
There is no way this isn't toxic.
"Girly!" Dad yells from the ground below.
I startle and gasp, gripping whatever I can hold onto, "what the fuck, Dad! You scared the shit out of me. I could have fallen!" I scold him.
"What the hell are you doing up there?!" he shouts.
"This roof is rotted. If it doesn't cave in and kill you the toxic mold will!" I shout.
"I said I was handling it!" he grunts.
"The hell you are! How long has it been like this, Dad?"
"Don't worry about it! How the hell do you intend on getting down from there?" Dad asks.
I look back to the corner of the roof I had climbed up from. Getting up here through the window was easy enough. Getting back inside in the same manner is likely impossible.
Shit.
"I didn't think that far ahead," I admit, looking around for any other possible ways down.
"Good going, Girly," Dad snorts.
Thanks, Dad.
"Do we have a ladder?" I ask.
"In the shed. I can't get it in this chair," he replies, wheeling his chair out further so he can see me better.
"What about a neighbor?" I feel so stupid now. This was such a bad idea.
"Mrs. McGillicuddy is at a funeral. Bob and Kallie's truck is not in the drive," he sighs, crossing his arms.
Well, fuck.
There is only one person I can think of who will come help...