North Star
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Ten:
Paul
Saturday turns out to be a bright, sunny day, and it takes only one glance at Naomi's wide, guileless eyes for me to reluctantly concede to accompanying her and our grandparents to First Beach. It's already crowded, with multiple generations of families, with the Tribal Council, with a small army of (certified) volunteers tasked with keeping everything in order. In particular, supervising the children in the water, the sojourns to the tide pools, and the occasional attempt to sneak into the woods by my restless classmates.
"I wanna go swimming!" Naomi declares.
"Sure, Nay-Nay," I acknowledge, "Let me just help Grams and Grandpa get set up, okay? Then I'll go swimming with you."
Naomi huffs impatiently, and flops gracelessly onto the sand to wait. She doesn't protest though, and instead busies herself with building a sand castle while I spread out a picnic blanket, set up Grams' and Grandpa's fold-out chairs, and haul the cooler and platters of food from the car.
"Okay, that's everything," I declare when I'm done.
"I wish you'd let us help, Pauly," Grams says, "You look tired. Do you want a drink?"
"I'm okay, Grams," I assure her, "Thanks, though."
I've set them up where all of the other elders of the tribe seem to have set up shop, and Grandpa's already in conversation with one of his friends. They chat in animated Quileute, and both of my grandparents wear smiles.
They're happy to be hear, to be among their friends, and family, and tribe, and I can't remember the last time I've seen them like this.
Before the accident, I'm sure.
"Pauly, can we go now?" Naomi entreats.
"all right, Nay-Nay," I acquiesce, and by the time I've tugged off my shirt and sunglasses, she's already discarded her dress and sandals to reveal her favourite green bathing suit, "Let's go."
Naomi runs ahead, between the picnic blankets and milling tribespeople, and hits the water with a shriek of mingled delight and surprise.
"It's cold!" She flops down in the shallows, curls her toes and fingers in the sand, and offers me a bright, unfettered grin. "You gonna sit with me, Pauly?"
"You don't want to go deeper?" I ask her, "Play in the waves?"
Naomi considers it for a moment, but ultimately declines with a shake of her head. Her hair whips around her face, but she's entirely unbothered by it. "Not yet."
"Okay," I acknowledge, settle myself beside her, and amuse us both by flicking water at her. Naomi loves it, reciprocating in kind, and despite myself, I laugh.
With the sun against my skin, with the waves lapping around my legs, with Naomi's laughter in my ears, I smile, and for the moment, I am content.
I pray it lasts.
Jared
"Where is he?" Sam asks. He's not much for idle conversation, and I sigh, resigned, and point out Paul among the mass of tribe members already gathered.
It's not difficult. Paul isn't yet a wolf, but he's 6'3" anyway, with broad shoulders, and an air about him that somehow demands attention. It's oddly incongruous, because my friend is far from the extroverted type, but he has a confidence about him, a surety in himself and his future that is so unlike the rest of our peers. He's been struggling, of course - it's no wonder, given everything - and thing's aren't going to get any easier when he fazes, but through it all, he's maintained that same strength of character I've come to expect from him.
I can only hope his strength holds out against the trials yet to come.
"That's him, with the little girl in green. That's his sister, Naomi."
Sam studies Paul, his expression blank, and then determines, "He's not close to fazing yet."
"I guess it makes sense," I acknowledge, "He only moved to La Push over the summer. We've been around since the leeches got here. He's had less exposure."
Paul's lived in Tacoma forever. He was born on the Reservation - he and Naomi both - but his parents had wanted their children to have access to more opportunities than what La Push could offer them. Moreover, Uncle John and Aunt Lani had been very frank about their opinions regarding Indigenous Americans, the cycle of poverty, and their determination that neither Paul or Naomi would fall into the same trap as so many others before them.
After the accident though, and once Paul and Naomi had seen out the end of the school year in Tacoma, Grams and Grandpa Lahote had helped pack up Paul's childhood home, had helped settle Uncle John and Aunt Lani's affairs, and had relocated Paul and Naomi to their home in La Push.
With the change in scenery, Naomi had adapted better, had more or less grown accustomed to life in the care of her grandparents, but the same can't be said regarding Paul. He's grieving, in a pit of depression I'm not sure how to help him out of, and I'm worried. Not just because of the wolf shit hurdling Paul's way, but also because of everything else he has to deal with, too.
Sam grunts his agreement, and his gaze flickers towards the tree-line. "We'll keep an eye on him over the next few weeks, but no need to worry yet. There's some middle school fuckers trying to get into the woods again. Watch the water."
Sam stalks off to place the fear of God into the wannabe rebels, and I continue on my path in the shallows with another sigh. Because I'm one of the few volunteers CPR and Lifesaving certified, I've been appointed the responsibility of ensuring no one drowns today, but there's about a dozen other places I'd rather be, and those places are all far from First Beach, and also far, far away from Kimberly Carter.
The girl in question laughs, a loud, unapologetic belly laugh that's somewhat deceiving, given her small stature, and I glance towards her in the water, not really intending to do so. She's frolicking with her boyfriend, and they're both smiling, laughing, happy as clams, and I grimace, and continue on my way. In the back of my mind, the wolf growls possessively, but Kimberly Carter doesn't 'need' anything from me, and thus he remains muzzled.
Admittedly, I still haven't done anything about her, still haven't talked to her, told her anything, and I have no interest in doing so, either. The imprint pull is like a vice around my chest, and I've done far more detours in my patrol to run by her house than I care to admit, but I'd rather not take away anyone else's choices.
Hell, I don't even want to take away my own.
Sam, whom I'd misjudged early on, is humouring me, at least. He knows about the imprint - it's kind of hard to hide, given the shared mind - but he hasn't told the Tribal Council, and neither does he intend to. Not until I ask him to, anyway.
Quite frankly, I'd rather not deal with them ever, but if wishes were dollars, and all that.
Bella
As evening falls, Uncle Thomas and Aunt Linda take off with their respective families. Ryan stays, content to cuddle with his girlfriend as the bonfires are lit. As they do, I make myself scarce, unwilling to be a third wheel, and find myself in the company of the Clearwaters. Harry is seated with the other Council members (Billy in a special, beach-designed wheelchair), but Seth and Leah are both seated on a blanket with Sue, though honestly, Sue looks like the only one happy to be there.
I'm herded onto the blanket, offered a plate full of food, and lightly interrogated about how I'm going, how Charlie's going, how school is going, so on and so on. Seth plays his Gameboy, Leah blasts deafeningly loud punk music into her ears, and I'm distracted as a guy around my age - tall, leanly muscled, and accompanied by a little girl - spreads out a blanket in the empty space beside us. They take off again, returning with an older couple, and all of the assorted bits and pieces that speaks of a day on the beach.
"That's Paul Lahote," Sue informs me, following my gaze. She wears a knowing smile on her face, and I blush despite myself, "He and his little sister just moved from Tacoma over the summer. They live with their grandparents now."
Although I'm curious, I don't ask about their parents. There's a grief in the older couple, anyway, one that is reflected in Paul Lahote, and I don't think I want to know. Not yet.
"He works at the diner, right?" I ask instead, "I think I saw him there once."
"He does," Sue confirms, "He's a good boy."
I glance at him again, only to find him looking right back at me. His features are shadowed in the dying sunlight, but he's no less striking for the sharp angles and poor lighting.
I blush again, reach up and tug nervously at the roots of my hair, bite my bottom lip, and then I smile, tentative, and watches as he smiles back. It's small, a barely there upwards tilt at the corners of his mouth, but it's definitely a smile, and it carries me right through to the end of the night.
Author's Note: Is there anybody out there?
Practically a year later… I'm sorry for the wait. The muse took me elsewhere, and this chapter just really didn't want to be written. I'm not happy with the short POV's here - I'm hoping they'll be longer in the chapters to come - but we'll see. I'm planning to write a series of sub-plots involving the different characters - it's why I'm bothering with POV shifts at all - but we'll see how I go, I guess.
Thanks for reading, for sticking around if you have. Leave a review? What do you think about my plan for the story? Otherwise, until next time (hopefully). -t.