CHAPTER VIII: LET'S GO FOR A JOY RIDE

COME MONDAY MORNING, I WAS exhausted. Near incapacitated from brainstorms and never-ending preparations for a prank that was decidedly less impactful than all of Jacob Black's actions tied into one, it was a no-brainer for me to decide it was a good idea that I skip school for the day. I knew what was in-store for me, if I were to attend a Monday-inclusive store of daily doings: Mrs. Johnson's grainy, unforgiving lectures on being prompt; art class consisting of me expressing myself and Mr. Meadows calling upon me for a "surprise" counseling session; Jacob Black being a bitch to me in third period, and me having to resort to cordial ways of telling him to "fuck off"; the library still being closed for cleaning, and me condemned to sitting with fiends in the cafeteria; my free period haunted by the existence of Jared Cameron as our overly-observant study hall advisor; and best of all, my evening after classes made the most they could be in detention.

Oh yes, I could already feel myself aching with longing. Who was Alissa Cameron without her daily dose of detentions and disappointing adults? Saturdays and Sundays felt barren, spent lifeless among linen bedsheets and ignoring the rising stacks of homework on a nearby desktop. Of course, sleep could always be added to the equation that made Alissa Cameron who she was, but sleep (not so much a habit as it was a necessity) wasn't a very unique characteristic to add onto a checklist of things that made mewell, me.

To anyone who knew me, it wasn't much a surprise to find me still holed up in my room, long after Jared had left in his girlfriend's car. I had felt my body drain of energy the longer I stayed in bed that morning. I watched the minute hand tick by on my clock, faster than it had ever been during morning classes; 7 am gone, then 8 am gone, then 9 am gone, then 10 am gone. Before I knew it, it was 11 am—third period. The same hour I had with…

A shudder of relief went through me, then, knowing that at least for today, I was safe from Jacob Black's torment. Snuggled up in a comforter far too thin for a brisk, cold day like today. Bare-faced and alone in the house, my father gone to the archives and Jared to be away for the unforeseeable future. Knowing him, he wouldn't be home until midnight. And knowing Dad, he wouldn't be home until 2 in the morning.

What a lovely, mysterious family I was blessed with. It just made me so happy to know if they had a single secret, they'd run to me and spill their entire guts just so I'd know they trusted and respected me. Truly—I was blessed.

Bleh. Fucking assholes. It annoyed me to no end, the amount of secrecy running amuck in this place.

My father—I knew he'd eventually care to tell me about everything there was to know about his work and what it was he did. With Jared, I no longer held hope we could rekindle; we hadn't been close since the start of last semester, when he ditched me indefinitely and got Paul to follow a similar routine. I doubted any sort of truce could or would be called between us. It became common, the lack of love and trust we held for one-another. It started slow, like a shallow wave, but grew bigger and bigger the more he snapped at me, the more he blew me off. Before I knew it—before I could find some sort of sheet metal to shield myself—it became tumultuous, and a tidal wave crashed over me. All these doubts reached a crescendo-like high.

I was naïve, for a while. I thought Jared was just busy with schoolwork and extracurriculars, even though I knew damn well that he was with Paul doing God-knows-what anytime I found something for us to do. I asked him to go to the movies; he declined, said he had a project in history, and went to the beach with Paul instead. I asked if he wanted to play some soccer; he said no, claimed he was going to look for a job to pay for a car, and didn't look the least bit apologetic when I found him later, playing video games in the living room. With Paul.

Soon, he became angry. He no longer tried to hide his trail, no matter the sloppy job he was doing already. He started getting hateful anytime I asked. He stopped treating me like his sister. He started treating me like the ugly, outcasted girl who kept thinking she had a chance with the handsome, popular jock. Like I was nothing but a nuisance.


"Jared!" I called out, running up to him from the coastline. I had been out walking and collecting shells when I saw him, strolling down from the car lot with Paul beside him. I remembered him saying he was going to work on his speech for Miss Grigsby's literature class. It confused me to see him here, looking relaxed and bother-free. Though, it didn't deter me from wanting to say hi; after all, what if he finished early and sought out a way to spend his downtime? "Jared, oh my gosh—look at the shells I found—"

Paul was looking at me with a small, grimace-like frown on his face. But Jared—he looked horrified, like a man watching a monster inch closer and closer, before his face melted into a smile. But I could read him easily; it was forced. "Oh, hey, Lissy," Jared said, raising an arm behind his shoulder and scratching at his neck. It was his telltale sign for being nervous. For hiding something. "Those are pretty. I didn't know you were still coming."

When he looked at Paul, all he got was a shrug in response.

I smiled. "Yeah, Kallie was going to come with, but she had a dentist appointment. I thought I might make a necklace." I looked at him curiously, then, trying to hide my hurt. This was the fifth time he cancelled this month. This was the fifth time I caught him in his lies. But I didn't daresay comment about it. I didn't want to make him angry. "Did Miss Rice tell you what you got on that paper?"

Jared shared another look with Paul. He rolled his eyes, mouthing something I caught the barest movement of lips for; See what I mean? She barely stops talking. He turned his attention back to me, where I was slowly beginning to frown, no longer attempting to hide my pain. Where I was once trying to excuse his behavior was the rationale, dictating to me hidden truths behind Jared's barely-concealed lies. He continued to smile a forced, awkward grin. "Yeah, told me I lacked direction, but my wordplay made up for it. Got a whopping seventy-six percent on it."

"That's good," I said, on the cusp of mumbling. I felt a sickening crunch in my heart, like it was being squeezed to the point of no recuperation. It gave me a needed push in the direction towards the point of no return. I decided it was no longer blissful showering my headspace in ignorance. "I thought you had a speech you were supposed to be working on."

Jared opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. He sent a panicked glance at Paul, who just shook his head at Jared. Without asking, I knew it was because Paul had no sympathy for what Jared was doing. What sort of pain he was putting me through. Yes, Paul was along for the ride, but we were never close; we kissed, we exchanged fake vows in the school play, we laughed and made quick banter when the three of us hung out. But he had no loyalty to me. He wasn't my brother.

He was just my brother's pawn. A player meant to charade around in the joke that was my life.

"I—just forget it." I shook my head. The sinking in my chest made me feel like I couldn't breathe. I was unable to speak without choking. My tears were already on the horizon, blooming behind my eyelids like wobbling flower petals. "I'll see you at the house."

I ran past them, to the car lot. I ran past the cars. I ran to the woods. I found myself on an unclear path, my knees bruised, and my slide-covered feet covered in dirt and sand.

I sat in the woods a whole three hours. Just sitting. Just thinking. I wondered aloud and in my head what it was I did to make Jared ashamed of me. I wondered why Paul didn't fight for me. I looked at the sky and I asked why I was alone.

All alone.

All alone.

All alone.

I hoped I wouldn't die that way.


I flinched, an overwhelming rush of heat enveloping my face. A wall of tears was behind my eyes, fighting at the eyelids that shielded them from the outside world. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to be like those silly, emotional girls off those silly, emotional soap dramas who cried half the time and lashed out at others the rest. I didn't want to be a soft, broken girl hidden behind a tough-girl façade.

My brother had always been my favorite person. He was a secret treasure of a person, one I cherished above all else. I loved Kallie like a sister, but I hadn't known her as long as I knew Jared; Jared had been saving me, protecting me, loving me since the day I breathed life for the first time. From the moment I could giggle, he was beside me. Being my guardian angel without having to even be asked.

When our mother died—when our father became so inconsolable that mere words did nothing but drive him further away—Jared took on the guardianship role. I was six and he was seven, and he knew next to nothing about girls and their needs, but he didn't need to know. When I was hungry, he got our favorite chips from the kitchen cabinet and we ate them while sitting underneath the dining table and laughing. We would spend hours on end in the living room, building forts and watching cartoons. We read books to each other—my vocabulary a lot less developed, and his a lot dirtier—and rode the school bus sitting side-by-side.

We made a pact after our mother died. "Together forever until the grass is blue and pigs fly high."

Maybe that was why it broke my heart so much when I lost him so easily. When our history became nothing but the leftovers of a scrapbook. When I felt him slip through my grasp, and I could do nothing but watch and reach out for sheer air.

I was forced to swallow down my pain, and churn it out as anger. I had to hide my sadness with empty quips and humor that never quite matched my eyes. I had to pretend I didn't care when all I fucking did was care.

Laying in bed, continuing to watch worthless minutes tick by and listening to the background sound of a news broadcast, I wondered just how nice it'd be if—for once—I could be happy.

If Jared's betrayal never happened, and he never tried to purposefully sabotage my dates. If Paul didn't heed my brother's example, if our kiss went somewhere meaningful. If my mother hadn't died, and my dad wasn't broken.

I shivered.

Sometimes it's best not to think about the what-ifs, I thought bitterly, curling further into my blanket. Sometimes they hurt worse than the what-ares.


Of course, Tuesday came. And it was back to pretending.

"What's up, party people," I announced, walking into detention that fine evening. During art class, I drew Mrs. Johnson being eaten by my fairly-chunky friend the sasquatch, and neither Mrs. Meadows nor Mr. Meadows took it lightly. Figures. Had to release my frustration and anger somehow, in a way that didn't involve violence; unlike Paul, I did so artistically. "How are y'all this fine and dandy, cold-as-shit day?"

My fellow detention-regulars stared at me blankly. None of them could decipher how chipper I was on a day where I was given the slip and bore eye bags as purple as a Twilight Woods fragrance. I supposed my superpower was being drop-dead tired but not dropping dead.

"I'm swell," said Paul Lahote, lounging in the back. When he caught my eye, he sent me a wink. While on another day I might have swooned, I was far too entuned with past memories, past pain, to really care. "I assume you're fantastic."

"Fan-freakin'-tastic, actually," I said, scathingly. I approached my usual seat slowly, like I was prey enclosing on my predator's territory. "Who's heading detention today? Not Mrs. Johnson, I hope. She has it out for me today. Made me eat lunch in Mr. Meadows's office, of all places."

"I was wondering where you were," Paul said, sending me a small smirk. If he expected me to care that he wondered upon my whereabouts, that he looked for me and was disappointed when I was nowhere to be seen, then he was right. I did care. I cared a whole freaking lot, almost to the point it was unbearable. But…

I thought about Jared. I thought about collecting seashells, about brothers telling their friends about their annoying little sister who could never shut up or take a hint. I though about said friends of these brothers, and how they laughed and agreed.

And for once, my heart listened to my head, hope decimated and reproach in its place.

I raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a sneer. "I would have been in the library otherwise," I told him. The look on his face made my words all the more worth it; he looked hurt. Like he caught the unsaid implication: Why would I be in the cafeteria? There's no one there worth seeing. "They're finally done with cleaning it, and now I can eat in silence again."

"Silence?" Paul stared at me. "With you? I just don't see it."

"No one can. That's the irony of it all," I said, all deadpan, throwing my hands up in a what-can-you-do? gesture. "But—surprise, surprise!—hearing gossip and open-mouthed chewing makes me want to hurl. I don't like it. So I avoid it. Capeesh?"

Paul was watching me carefully. "Capeesh."

Before I could further incite this meaningless, boring conversation, or go into tangents that would end with him figuring me out, a door slammed open from behind me. I knew what this meant—and it meant nothing good. "Alright, sit down now—and when I say sit down, Ms. Cameron, that doesn't mean for you to turn around and make goo-goo eyes at Mr. Lahote. Sit! Down!" Mrs. Johnson's voice was a mixture of a croon and a growl, so when she said her final words, it sounded like the words were coming from a talking, walking automobile. With my tail tucked between my legs, I sat down in a hurry. And I definitely refrained from making goo-goo eyes at Paul. Mrs. Johnson's eyes were watching me vigilantly, narrowed down into slits. "Now, that we've got that settled…"

Mrs. Johnson was a tall, powerful woman. She had hair cropped impeccably short, reaching just below her ears, and a frown so menacing it could send bears crying for their mothers. Not to mention she had eyes black as coals. And hair as auburn as fall leaves. She fit the description of a demon perfectly well, though I'd never tell her that.

"You all will be writing lines for me today," the woman said, in a seething, barely-controlled tone. Several of us groaned in response, not expecting lines when detention usually consisted of sleeping, scribbling, and half-assing past-due homework. Mrs. Johnson sent the room a deadly glance, one that had everyone shutting up and stiffening in their chairs. "No complaining, or you'll stay over. I'll make you write until your hands bleed."

I laughed, hurrying to start coughing and choking in order to disguise my amusement. The mocking part of me muttered, Funny; I feel my ears already hemorrhaging just from hearing her speak. Vroom, vroom, bitch.

"Is there something funny, Mrs. Cameron?" Mrs. Johnson stared me down, not even bothering to snap at the rest of the delinquent student-body when they craned their necks around to look at me too.

My hands were laying on my desk. Shrinking down in my seat, confidence deflating at the daring look that ghastly woman was giving me, I began to twiddle my thumbs, violently picking at the skin. I put on a fake, sickeningly-sweet smile. "Just have a bit of a cold," I said.

"Hm. Sure." She shifted her gaze behind me, staring at something with a vicious, analytical look in her eyes. Catching my own gaze, innocent and curious, she made sure to crush it. A single glance and I was frowning, fear in my eyes.

"Take out your paper, and we'll begin," the woman went on to drone. The sound of unzipping, metal-clangs, and tearing came to life immediately after, everyone abiding by her wishes—her demands. I did as well, eyes not moving from Mrs. Johnson as I pulled out my notebook.

When a lazing, slow-going boy caught her eye, she harrumphed and immediately trotted over to give him a piece of her mind; I took that as my opportunity.

I snuck a glance behind my shoulder, hands tearing out a sheet. Paul was already looking back at me, his own notebook in front of him. When he caught my eye, it was almost scary how instantaneously they lit up, how his lips involuntarily turned from a frown into an almost-smile.

I quickly turned around. Unable to control my fast-beating heart, or the way my palms became sweaty and shaky.

I was supposed to be mad. I was supposed to look at him, and feel angry and sad and frustrated—never excited, never relieved, never happy.

But—I had to remind myself, Paul isn't Jared. He never stopped smiling at you, or saying hi in the halls. It's okay to like him. It's okay to feel things for him.

Another part disagreed.

Staring at Mrs. Johnson, my mind distracted with thoughts of Paul and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and the way he never stopped teasing me or making stupid jokes, even when he was supposed to be serious, I knew I had it bad.

And I blamed it entirely on a weekend spent knocking knees and cracking jokes with Paul, my father and Kallie the only things keeping us from becoming something more.


Walking out of detention, I felt someone hovering behind me—so close I could almost taste body heat. I knew who it was without looking. I kept silent, knowing what he wanted; he wanted to talk.

"I don't know what it is about you," Paul said quietly. I barely heard him over the sound of the other delinquents as they sped past and picked back up on conversations halted by an hour of imprisoning quiet. My ears were desperate to hear what he had to say, though, so they were completely entuned with him, everyone and everything else all background noise. "One minute we're joking around, the next you're cold. What's with that?"

I let out a sigh. I knew it was too good a wish for him to ignore my hot-then-cold reactions towards him; he was always more observant than I gave him credit for. "Look, Paul," I said, slowly, hoping my words wouldn't completely crumble our relationship with one-another, "you're my brother's best friend. When he was a bitch to me, you never said anything. You let him do it. And yeah, sometimes I'll forget about it, and we'll go back to how we were, but right now, all I can think about is Jared making quips about me being annoying, how me never leaving the two of you alone, and you just shrugging. Nodding. Saying nothing in my favor or against."

Paul grabbed my shoulder, prompting me to stop and to face him. Everyone passed us by, barely sparing us a glance. The boy in front of me looked completely drained, eye-bags almost worse than mine—and I knew my words did nothing but to worsen the stress in the lines and columns of his face. "Alissa, I can't speak for your brother. What he did to you was a dick move, I get it, and I should have stood for you, but you know what? If I did, I would have lost Jared and you. He would have got pissed at me for thinking I had a say in how he treats you. You would have got mad at me for being rude to your brother." Paul shrugged, letting out a humorless laugh. "It was a lose-lose situation. You know I didn't like what he did to you."

I remembered his expressions anytime he was there as witness to Jared's treatment of me. The looks of annoyance, of disappointment, of anger—they were never at the expense of me, meant to exhibit some sort of wish that I'd disappear. They were because Paul held a similar attitude, though he could bottle up his much better than I ever could mine.

I frowned. "Still. You never tried to hang out with me. We never went back to being friends after Jared and I fell out. I mean, Jesus, Paul."

Paul sucked in a breath. He looked like a man dreading what came next—his next words. "Jared told me I couldn't," he told me finally.

Jared told me I couldn't.

Jared told me I couldn't.

My expression dropped entirely. "What?" I breathed.

Paul bit his lip. "I shouldn't be telling you this," he muttered, clapping a hand over his face and dragging it down. He let out a sigh. "Jared never liked the idea of me being friends with you, even at the very beginning. He thought—" He cut himself off.

"What? He thought what?" I was still reeling. Still breathless. My heart was spluttering, barely able to beat. It was in pain.

The look on Paul's face was uneasy. "He didn't want us to be friends for two reasons," he told me, holding up two fingers. "I've always been a bit of a hothead. Violent, easy-to-get-mad. Jared didn't like me being around you; he still doesn't. He thinks I'm going to get you hurt."

"Okay," I said. I didn't know what else to say—if I even wanted to say anything else. "What was the second reason?"

If possible, his expression became even more uneasy. "He didn't want us to become something more than friends." When I continued to stare at him, saying nothing in return, his eyes turned embarrassed. "I told him I thought you were pretty. He was pissed. Stopped talking to me for a week straight. When I said I was sorry, he told me we couldn't be friends if all I wanted to do was screw his sister."

The words came out of my mouth, faster than I could stop them— "And is that all you wanted to do? Screw his sister?" I pursed my lips.

Paul glanced around. The hallway was empty now, everyone from detention far, far away. We were alone, and our voices were echoing off the walls. He said quietly, "Of course not. I have more respect for you than that."

I shook my head, focusing on the big picture. "Okay, so let me get this straight. Jared blew me off because he didn't want me around you? That's it?"

Paul nodded, wordlessly.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. "That's just… God. That makes absolutely no sense." I tightened my hands around my backpack straps. "Fuck."

"I never wanted to stop talking to you, Alissa," Paul said quickly. "I mean—fuck—did you think that kiss meant nothing? That I felt nothing for you? Obviously I fucking did."

I kept shaking my head. Shaking it and shaking it and shaking.

Do you see what I mean? She never stops talking.

If Jared's purpose was to keep me safe from Paul, virginity intact, then there was no reason to insult me. To call me annoying. To stop talking to me altogether, unless he materialized for the sole purpose of sabotaging my attempted relationships.

"Just say something, Alissa," Paul continued pleading. "I—I told you this so you'd know I never meant to hurt you. And now I can't fucking stay away. And Jared, I think he understands."

I looked at him sharply. "Fucking fuck Jared!" I snapped. "Tell him he's a dick. Tell him I know. Tell him he's got a whole other thing in mind if he ever thinks I'm going to think he was right for doing something like that!"

Tears were welling behind my eyes. No no no no—not in front of Paul, please. My lip began wobbling and I curled my arms around myself.

Paul's eyes were frantically glancing over me, catching the tears in my eyes, the way I looked like I was about to fall apart. I was falling apart.

I told myself no. I told myself to be strong. I told myself to pick up my own pieces. But I couldn't.

I didn't care how embarrassing I looked, how embarrassing I was being, as I fell into Paul's arms and began to sob into his chest. His arms curled around him, one of his hands reaching up to run his fingers through my hair—something he used to do without Jared as witness, when I had nightmares and went to seek him out in Jared's room at four in the morning, after they spent a sleepover guzzling energy drinks and playing video games.

I thought about our first kiss. I thought about the secretive smiles, the secretive winks. The slow spiral into something less, rather than something more. The way Jared let it all happen, all because he didn't want me and Paul together.

He got his wish.


A/N:

Holy shit, I didn't think I was going to write so much. But here we are! I try to keep chapters short so I can churn them out more quickly but… big oof, right there. This chapter took so long because I genuinely didn't know what to do. Writer's block is a major bitch. I wanted to go ahead and get the prank over with, but I'm also still having trouble thinking of a good enough prank for Alissa and the fam to pull on Jacob. Should it involve my main man Billy? Should it be crazy and spectacular? I was kinda thinking about making it have something to do with Bella, base it around embarrassing him in front of the love of his life. Idk though

Anyway, just wanted to say thank you so much for all the favorites, follows, and reviews. They mean the world to me. I've recently been in a really dark place, sad and seeing no meaning in anything, so it always warms my heart and makes me feel 10x better seeing people actually appreciate me for something.

Alissa & Paul are totally gonna get their second kiss soon. *wink wink* I thought it was funny Paul was basically confessing his feelings to her while she was in the middle of an emotional crisis.

Sorry if things felt rushed. I'm exhausted and feel fucking deflated tbh

Hopefully, within the next few chapters, we'll have Alissa learn the truth about the pack. How would you all like her to find out?