Chapter 1- "Are you alright?"
A/N: Hey guys! I am taking a break from my story 'Insurance' for now. I wrote this chapter on a whim because I was bored, and really liked it, so I thought I'd put it up, and see what you guys thought. I decided that the Twilight werewolves are going to be involved in this story because I love them oh so much, so it might just be Jacob who imprints on Ray. Chapter 2 will be up soon. Reviews make me happy, so be sure to leave some!
-xxx-
It wasn't by my will that my mom had sent me to La Push to live with my grandparents. I was totally against it from the moment she mentioned it. She forced me here, but I couldn't say I didn't like the change.
My mom was 100% Quileute. She met my dad outside of the reservation in Port Angeles with a couple of friends when she was younger. She married him not too long after, and they moved away. When the new bundle of joy, that being me, arrived, she'd come back to her home town every so often to show me off to her parents. They fell in love with me from the first moment I entered the house, and I loved them back.
I spent a lot of time in La Push during my toddler years. I even knew some of the others from the tribe, but my father wasn't too keen on always being there, so my visits were reduced to summers alone, and as I got older.. The visits had stopped all together.
La Push was always my escape though. The culture, the language, the legends. The bonfires were my favorite part, and the beach had always been my thinking spot. A place where I cleared my head, and filled it with the sound of the waves crashing against the sand. It had been years since I'd been there again. As much as I had protested against coming here, I still couldn't help the excitement that bubbled inside of me. I wished I was visiting under better circumstances though.
"It'll be good for you, Ray."
That's what my mom told me; She was afraid for my well being. I had become the rebellious type. A soon to be senior with other things in mind that didn't really involve school. I was hanging out with the wrong crowd; Doing all the wrong things. Not drugs though, or even drinking; I was never into that. I was just heavily against authority. Most things she, or anyone else told me to do, I usually did the opposite.
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I was at the airport sometime around the afternoon. The clouds were hovering over Washington, pouring light drizzle down on us as we drove passed Forks into the wilderness of the La Push reservation, and up to a small, but cozy looking house. As I hopped out of the old Chevy Blazer my grandfather was driving a pair of keys were thrown to me. Out of reflex, I barely caught them.
"Your car's in the garage." my grandfather said a small smile faltering at the edge of his lips. I could tell he wanted to show more enthusiasm in my being here, but the smug expression on my face must've been enough to make him think twice. He didn't tell me what car it was parked in the garage though, and that got me thinking.
It was as if he had read my mind, and as he pulled out a couple of my bags with almost no trouble at all for his age, he nodded his head towards the garage. I followed, but not before I grabbed the left over bags myself. My grandmother turned to me, and smiled.
"I am glad you're here Ray." She said in a soft tone. "It's been such a long time since we've last seen you."
I simply smiled in return, and nodded my head. I loved my grandparents dearly. My grandmother was a bit shorter than me, but her eyes were the same color as mine, and I could swear that it was like looking at myself in the mirror at her age. We were identical, but I looked like my mother too.. So there was definitely a resemblance between them as well.
When I headed into the garage after my grandfather, I almost fell backwards at the sight of my new car. A black '69 Chevy Camaro. My jaw was slightly ajar as I stood there, just gawking at the beautiful vehicle that I would soon be driving.
"It's gunna need some work done to it." He said. "I tried to fix it up as best I could before you came, but I figured you'd want to get a chance to work on it as well. You still like cars don't you?" My grandfather smirked as he scrutinized my reaction. After a few moments, I nodded. I had to admit, this had certainly made my bleak night just a little bit brighter.
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My grandparents were easy people to deal with. They helped me move my things into my new room. They knew why I was here; They knew why I didn't want to be bothered. And the best part was.. They didn't bother me.
My father's death shook me still. It was expected in his line of work, but when you're a kid you think your parents are invincible, yah know? He was a soldier. Fighting a war that, in my opinion, didn't need to be fought. One day.. He just never came home. The Sergeant was there. He showed up at my door one night with a permanent scowl on his face while he stabbed an invisible hole in my heart with his words.
"Daniel was a good man," He said in a soft whisper. I could tell he was hurting too. He was one of my father's good friends. He used to come over for dinner with his family a lot. "I am so sorry for your loss."
I was at my dad's funeral; Closed casket. That wasn't a good sign. The American flag was draped over his coffin, and the soldiers, his friends, were all there pointing their firearms to the rainy sky, and letting them fill the air with the loud bang of gun shots. I didn't cry; It still hadn't hit me then.
I felt a pang of guilt stab my insides when I thought about how broken up my mom had been. She'd sobbed herself to sleep for days. I only made matters worse by my behavior during my last few days of junior year. I couldn't help myself though. My father was my hero, and he was never coming back. I chose to deal with it differently. The guilt almost instantly turned into furry, but as a I plopped down on my new bed I just huffed out a frustrated sigh. The tears were falling now, but I quickly wiped them away with my fists.
I was in my pajamas now. A pair of black shorts, and a matching tank-top. I was rolled up under my covers, laying on my side my mossy, green eyes staring at the picture of my family on top of my night stand. We were all smiling that day, but I wasn't smiling now. I hadn't really smiled in days.
-xxx-
It was summer in La Push, but that didn't really matter much. The weather was never the same for long. When I opened my eyes the very next day, the sun was peaking through the curtains of my window. Its soft rays were slightly warming up my tanned skin.
I rolled out of bed, and hoped into the shower. It was a while before I had stepped out, teeth brushed, and dark, brown hair swept back into a messy bun. I dressed in a pair of grey sweat pants, and a wife-beater before slipping on a pair of flip flops. I wasn't going to swim, so there was no need for a bathing suit. When I felt ready, I took the stairs two at a time, and was headed out the door when a voice made my fingers freeze around the door knob.
"Where yah headed off too, kid?"
It was my grandfather. A rather tall, caramel colored man with chocolate brown eyes, and dark cropped hair. His face was old, and wise, but his eyes were soft, and questioning. I instantly whipped around to face him. He was exiting the kitchen where my grandmother was cooking breakfast. I hadn't smelled the bacon, and eggs in the air till just that moment.
"I was planning on hitting up the beach for a while."
He was pensive for a brief second before his chest puffed out, and he nodded his head contently. "Good place to think." He told me as his lips cracked into a smile.
His voice was husky, and it made me think of those voice announcers who advertise movies in commercials, or something like that. It was weird too. He always had this.. Authoritative edge to him, but he was about the only one I could never disrespect. If he said no, the final result was ultimately.. No. I didn't mind it all that much, though. His authority was a different kind; I couldn't really explain it.
"Yeah," I replied after I had fallen out of my thoughts. It was a delayed reaction which made my grandfather chuckle. His shoulders shook lightly, and I swear for being an old man, his smile was that of a young boy. I was always taken back by him.
"Are you going to eat breakfast before you go?"
I shook my head. "Nah, I'll grab a bite of something on the way maybe."
He nodded his head, but I could tell that his eyes hid a hint of worry in them, and that he knew I wasn't going to look for food. I tried to smile, but the action didn't serve to convince him. His eyes were still watching me carefully. He let it go though, and watched me as I left through the front door before closing it behind me.
"Be home for dinner." He stated just before the door clicked closed.
I hopped into the old '69 Camaro my grandfather had given to me as a welcoming gift, and shoved the key into the ignition. I was on the road in the direction of the beach within seconds.
-xxx-
When I arrived, it wasn't as packed as I expected for a Saturday. There were people there though, so I wasn't totally wrong in assuming. Huffing out a sigh, I opened the door, and stepped out of my car. I pulled off my flip flops, holding them in my left hand, and letting my toes sink into the warm, soft sand as I let my feet carry me to the side of the beach I had planned to spend my time at. It was quiet; Just as I suspected. The water was curled into waves crashing softly against the large rocks that sat closely together. It was a dangerous spot to be, but danger was my middle name, and I knew no one would bother to come around here.
I climbed my way to the middle of the rocks, and took a seat. The rocks were high enough so that I only got slightly sprayed with salt water as the waves crashed against it. It was enough to cool me down from the hot, beaming sun up above me.
I was instantly lost in my thoughts. My dad. My mom. My life. Everything seemed to spiral in a downward motion, and I could feel the heat of my furry rise up inside of me. I could feel myself get hot with rage. It wasn't fair. Why me? Why my father? He was a good man. I wished he was still with me. Wished he had never gotten that call. I pulled my knees up to my chest, and hugged them tightly as my face buried itself between them.
My mind flashed to the night we were having dinner. It was close to a year ago. The phone rang, and in a flash my father was packing his bags, and telling us that his country needed him. My mom was yelling, crying, begging for him to stay. She was outraged, and so was I. I was yelling too. We were both right in reacting the way we did. The moment he stepped out that door, he was already dead to us.
I hadn't expected the news though. I was sleeping when the sergeant came to our door. Somehow, I knew it was him though, and I bolted out of my bed as soon as I heard the soft rapping on the front door. I didn't realized I was crying, and that my sweat pants were soaked with my tears until I heard a voice snap me right out of my miserable thoughts.
"You alright?"
I gasped, whipping my head around, and nearly fell off the rock I had been sitting in. When I caught myself, and figured I was balanced enough not to fall right into the current, I shifted, wiped my tears, and turned to put a face to the voice I had heard. That was when my heart sank down to the pit of my stomach. I looked into dark chocolate eyes, and I felt like all my worries didn't matter anymore. The pain I had been feeling was a distant shadow in the back of my mind.
He must've felt it too because his eyes were locked on mine. The look of worry he had on his features for that brief moment was completely gone, and replaced with the exact same look I probably wore too.
Shock.