chapter two

Mooney Vasquez is an angel in front of the camera. Her soft, brown curls stick to the wet tears that fell down her face, while her voice creaks and chokes over her lines. Or she lets out laughter that sounds like bells in the boom mic, with a smile that is warm and inviting and feels as natural as the clouded lighting on her face. Mooney could be covered in fake and sticky blood or dried and cracking mud and she will still exude an energy that is more believable than reality.

So I'm not sure why the fuck she can't get this scene down.

"Hey, Moon," I call at her from my spot behind the camera, "how about next time you do that scene you actually do it like, I dunno, good? Right now I could put a plank of wood in front of the camera and get the same results."

She glares at me, throwing her perfect curls over her shoulder. With the six or seven actors I have on set, I thought Moon would kill it. The girl thrives off attention. But her words kept coming off stiff and uninterested, and for the first time we've ever worked together, I could tell she was acting. "Well maybe I could act out the scene if the screenplay didn't read like it wasn't written like a twelve-year-old."

"Then why don't you go work with one of the other directors here in Forks?" I ask. "Oh, wait, am I the only one? That's right, I'm the only one. We're running it again. Go to your marks."

They stumble around, dead body extras collapsing into the parking lot ground wherever their colored tape lay. Moon gives me a big eye roll before she drags her feet all the way back to the edge of the soccer field. And I'm frustrated. It's four in the afternoon and I'm biting down on my lip, thinking about how bad this whole goddamn scene is gonna be if no one's willing to get their shit together.

I haven't been getting much sleep, not since I watched Bella slid her leg over the seat of that stupid goddamn motorcycle. It keeps replaying in my head and I can't help but think about all the things that could've happened to her because I couldn't stop her. And Bella's fine, at least comparatively, like that little stunt made her feel some weird sense of happiness again. But that isn't going anything to help me.

"Hey, Tatum. I think maybe this scene would work better if we took the camera off the tripod and panned back and forth while Moon stumbles around the set. You know like, giving off a feel of uncertain instability, or whatever."

Wes Dreyer is the only person in this godforsaken town with any sort of artistic sense. He is also the only person with a trust fund big enough to provide a boom mic and a 4K Canon camcorder. Me, him and Mooney used to go out into the mouth of trails with a cheap little camera and a two page script and Moon would pretend to be a lost fairy. Ever since then, we never really stopped. And I think that even though I'm kinda the face of this whole operation, what with the interviews and the fundraising and all of that, but everything would fall about without Wes. Way faster than I'm willing to admit.

Moon, though, I'm getting real tired of her.

"Wes, your hands shake like you just had fourteen Red Bulls and a bottle of Adderall. Keep the camera on the tripod until we get a stabilizer," I tell him, eyes tight on one of the extras, a blond boy with a wide face and too-blue eyes. "Who is he?" I ask, pointing a finger in his direction.

Wes follows the direction my finger is in and says, "Oh, Mike Newton. Jock-type. He gave me twenty dollars during casting to make him an extra."

I frown. "What the fuck, Wes?" I mumble, and then shout at the blond boy, "Hey Mike!" He whipped around, looking at me with some dumb grin. "I don't know if you've ever seen a dead body, but they don't typically blink. If you keep it up, you're off set and Wes won't give you your twenty back."

"Why are you being such a hardass today, Tate?" Mooney yells. She's sitting on the ground with fake blood pooling from her head and dirt smudged on her face.

One of the dead bodies, I don't know their name, rolls over on their mark and frowns at me. "Yeah, Tatum you kind of suck today."

"I'm not being a hardass. You guys are just doing a really bad job at literally everything right now and not even coming close to my expectations. Alright? I'm not asking for much just do everything perfectly every single time."

Wes leans in and whispers in my ear, "Tatum, that's kind of being a hardass."

"Just go again!" I yell, feeling overwhelmed with frustration. I want to rip my hair out by it's root.

That frustration is still present after I yell action and Moon starts stumbling around the set like she's lost at the mall and not like she just witnessed the massacre of everyone she's ever known and loved. And I'm standing there, arms crossed and scowl prominent, wondering if any of them know the sheer significance of this scene. I mean, I explained it to them about twenty fucking million times, and I thought that they would have some semblance of an idea of what to do, but still, they were clueless.

And I mean, I know I'm being harsh on them. But when I think about all the money the town of Forks flooded into my budget, it sets my nerves on fire and I wonder if my expectations are even high enough. I think that maybe it's not that I care too much but that no one else cares enough.

Moon follows her marks, stumbling and stepping over dead bodies on her way towards the camera. And as she's getting closer, with a dazed look on her face, her foot catches on the leg of a twitching Mike Newton. I groan. "Holy fucking shit," Wes whispers under his breath, and I'm glad to hear his audible disappointment. "I think this is our worst day on set yet."

Moon just lies there, face down and breathing deeply and I think she knows how much I'm gonna yell when she stands back up. No one moves. "I think I might silt someone's throat." A shrill, ringing alarm cut through the silence on the set, and my actors jumped. "My bad!" I yelled, pulling my phone out my pocket and silencing the alarm. "And that's a wrap for today. We'll pick this up later in the week. Hopefully then you'll all remember how to act."

"Aw, is it time for you to go fuck Bella Swan already?" Moon teases, standing up and brushing off her jeans.

I frown, scooping up my board and pointing a figure at her. "Moon, I know you think you're irreplaceable, but I swear to god I will put Wes in front of the camera if you keep pissing me off." I drop my board and step on it, turning to Wes. "Will you be nice to them after I leave so no one quits?" I ask, voice low.

"Yeah," Wes agrees, "I'll tell them you have crabs."

"Absolutely do not do that. I'll kill you," I threaten. "Just, tell them we'll buy a pizza next time we film? Alright. No crabs, Jesus."

I'm rolling out of the Forks High School parking lot before he can respond.

Bella's trademark truck isn't in the driveway by the time I'm kicking up my board under my arm in front of her house. I tilt my head. Bella's truck was always in the driveway is always in the driveway because Bella is always home. And I'm hoping that maybe it broke down or Charlie was replacing it with a car that could go over fifty miles an hour. I leave my board up against the front porch and let myself in the front door.

Charlie's there, sitting in the kitchen with a newspaper in his hand. And when he sees me walk into his kitchen, he says, "Copeland. Bella's not here."

I'm taken aback, almost flinching at the words. "She's not?" I ask, somewhat unable to believe it. The only times Bella's not at home is when she's at school or working at the stupid outdoor supply store.

"Yeah, I guess you're little night out helped," he replies easily, not looking up at me yet.

I lean against the counter. "Well, where is she?"

Charlie sighs and puts his newspaper down on the kitchen table. "She's over at the res, hanging out with Jacob Black. You know him. He's friends with your brother, I think."

"Oh," I let out, arms crossed. I like Jacob Black enough, I guess. We hang out sometimes when I go and visit Em on the reservation. I hadn't been over there in a while, seeing as I packed up my schedule with filming and fundraising and stupid pointless interviews and time with Bella. And I guess that all that effort I put into getting Bella to interact with me worked, in a way, because she was, at least, interacting with someone.

"Right, so," Charlie said, and used his newspaper to gesture towards the door.

I roll my eyes. "Relax, I'm leaving. But I'll be back," I warn, giving Charlie one last look before I step out the door. He grunts in response, and I leave the Swan house with a mix of emotions I wasn't exactly enjoying.

"'Am I a girl or am I an artist? Local teen girl uses movie-making as a means to cope with the heartbreaking pain of gender dysphoria,'" I read off the newspaper article, eyes tracing over the word rapidly. "I mean, this has to be a joke, right?"

Embry snorts, pulling the newspaper out from under my grip. He read, "'Tatum Copeland, a girl wrecked by confusion, finds that filmmaking gives her a fleeting sense of control over her life of chaos.' Wow, Tate, this is genuinely the worst thing I have ever read."

I groan, letting my head drop against kitchen table. "Em, she called me a girl throughout the entire article. She didn't even talk about my script!"

"Who cares?" my half-brother countered. "It's not like anyone reads the newspaper anymore except for like, old people. And besides, everyone already knows you're not a girl. It's not like some stupid article by some random lady is gonna make everyone think differently of you." He pauses, and then crumbles up the newspaper in his hands before tossing it over to the trash.

My face is in my hands and I'm thinking about everyone reading that article and forever having an image of me as something I'm not. And I think at some point during the interview, I should've predicted this outcome. Still, I want to wring out the reporters neck. "Should I like, sue her?"

"Do you want me to get Quil so he can egg her house or like, kill or something? Either is an option, I think Quil would do anything to impress you at this point."

"No, and can you please tell Quil that it's never gonna happen?" I ask, thinking of the short boy that's had a crush on me ever since we were kids. I never reciprocated. "The constant persistence is making Parker uncomfortable."

Embry rests his chin on his hand. "Hmm. No. Because I hate-

"Because you hate Parker."

"Yes."

"Well, either get over it or leave," I tell Embry, "because he's coming over later tonight. I haven't been able to see him recently because my schedule is made for an insane person."

Embry frowns. He's always hated Parker and everything about him, from the moment he walked through the door to meet my family. "Why do you even hang around that absolute geed anyways?"

"Because he's my boyfriend and I love him."

"Because his my boyfriend and I love him," Embry mocks, voice hitched up an octave. "Get better taste. That guy fucking sucks. You know," he starts, and leans in towards me, "you should start spending more time down at the res. You're never around anymore, Jake and Quil miss you, and right now you're so tightly wound I'm afraid you're gonna snap and stab someone."

The mention of Jacob Black brings my thoughts back to Bella. I wonder what she's doing down there with him, and it stirs up something inside of me. It's not that I'm exactly jealous, but I'm trying to think of what makes Jacob Black so special that Bell will get out of bed for him, but not for me, even after months of begging. I just don't really understand it, and it leaves me feeling uneasy. "I'll make time," I tell him to appease him and then I say, "Did you know Bella's down there hanging out with him today?"

Embry rolls his eyes. "Yeah, Jake wouldn't shut up about it. He's got like, a major crush on her. Me and Quil went down there today and gave him a hard time over it."

I nod, taking in that information with a nod. "Jake knows she's still not over that Cullen kid, right? Like, if he tries to make any moves on her, he's gonna set himself up for failure."

"I dunno," he says, "Bella looked super happy with him. Actually smiling and stuff, nothing like you described her."

I don't know what to do with the image of Bella laughing and smiling in Jake's garage, alive and looking like a person. I imagine the Bella that I knew almost a year ago, with a slight smile and quick quips, not the girl who got onto the bike of stranger. And I don't want to admit that it doesn't make me feel as happy as it should.

Parker plays with the loose strands of hair that fall from my ponytail. My back's pressed up against his chest and we're sitting on my bed and my dad doesn't know he's here. "You know why I love you?" he asks suddenly.

I tap on the keys of my laptop, staring at the document I hadn't made a change on in at least forty-five minutes. "Because I put out on our first date?"

He scoffs, gently shoving me. Parker and I had been dating for a while, around six months, I thought, and from the beginning, I've been content. I like to think of Parker as the perfect boyfriend; he's never late for dates, he helps me with my homework, and he pretends my entire family doesn't hate his guts. I mean, of course he has his flaws, and they've come up every now and again and we'll argue for a while over things I can't remember. But he's really, really good at being a boyfriend. And sometimes, when he sneaks into my bedroom and holds me while I work on projects, I think that maybe I can fall in love with him the way he loves me. "No, not that. I love you because you're the most special person I have ever met in my entire life. You're like, made of star dust or something."

"I'm not putting that line in one of my films, if that's what you're trying to do here," I tease, leaning back to look him in the eye.

Parker has pretty eyes. That's another one of my favorite things about him. His eyes are warm like caramel, and he has this cute little dimples that pop up when he gives me one of his wide grins. Parker's cute, with his curly hair and his clear skin and I run my thumb over his cheek. "Can't I just compliment my significant other without any ulterior motive?"

I lean up and place a peck on his cheek. "You can, you've just never done it before."

He chuckles, placing a few scattered kisses on my face. "Well, get used it," he says in between his delicately placed kisses, "because I love you, Tate, and all your stardust."

I tap my foot against the ground, anxious looking around Jacob Black's property. It took me so long to get here and now my legs are sore and achy and I'm dreading having to skate all the way back here. And after a few seconds of standing there, thinking about leaving, the door opens, and I am shocked to take in the sight of Jacob Black.

He's bigger than I remember, the muscles in his arms apparent from even under his shirt and he's about five inches taller than when I last saw him. Jacob smiles when he sees me. "Oh, hey Tate," he greets, "what's up?" he asks.

I swallow the lump in my throat and say to him, "I was actually wondering if we could, um, talk about Bella?"

Jake frowns, confused. "Um, yeah sure. Come on in, I guess."

The Black house is small but welcoming and it smells of pine and clean sheets and I sit on the couch, nervously shaking my legs. Jacob sits across from me in an arm chair, and I think that if I were him, I'd be confused to. It must have been before the Cullen's left and Bella broke down that I last saw Jake. We used to be close, or at least, he used to be someone I could sporadically call to spend time with. Things just changed; there was no falling out or anything, we just sort of drifted. "So, what about Bella?" Jake asks.

"Um," I start, looking around his house. And suddenly I don't know what I'm suppose to say or even why I'm saying it and I wonder if I should just get up and leave. But I think of the dead look in Bella's eyes and I say, "I just heard that you and her were hanging out again from Embry, and I dunno. The past couple months, with everything going on, I guess I've just gotten pretty protective over her. And I know Em said you always kinda had crush on Bella-"

"Where are you going with this, Tate?" Jake asks, his voice light like he's just joking, but I think he might be as nervous as I am.

I blow out air. "I don't mean to sound like a dick or anything," I assure him, "I'm just worried about her, after everything that's happened with Edward, and it's been super hard on her and she's been acting weird and reckless lately and I just don't want anything bad to happen to her."

"So you think I'm gonna do something bad to her?"

"No," I rush out, "I just wanted to like, let you know how fragile she is. And just to keep that in mind as you, um, proceed."

Jake studies me, watching my shaking legs and the way I chew on my tongue. "You don't have anything to worry about," he reassures me. "I'm not gonna do anything stupid. We both want the same thing, I think."

"To see Bella happy again?"

He nods. "Exactly."

I smile at him. "Good. Because I don't think I can handle it if it gets any worse than this."

i love writing a nonbinary oc bc im nonbinary and its cool as hell to write a character thats just a little bit like me.

first couple chapters are gonna be slowww but bear with me. paul will be making an appearance soon.

embry: you're such a sore loser
tatum: im not a sore loser. its just that i prefer to win and when i don't i get furious