Of course, as much as I wanted space and distance from Emily after that, she wouldn't have it. All through our lives we'd rarely fought, and even when we had, we'd always been quick to make up. I knew she would want that now, too, but this was no childish squabble or misunderstanding- this was a pain that went much deeper. I wanted to be alone, to pause and gather myself before we tried to move on into this new place where our roles had shifted so dramatically. But Emily just wanted to make things right.

She came early the next morning, her every footstep dripping with apology as she made her way to my bedroom. I was still sleeping, or I probably would have made it very clear that I didn't want to talk long before she had a chance to speak to me. But I was caught off-guard, asleep and unaware, and her weight on my bed woke me. She didn't crawl under the blankets or even lay down, which showed just how much our relationship had already changed. She sat next to me and I opened my eyes, expecting Seth, or maybe my mother. I wasn't prepared to see her there, to see her up close where I couldn't ignore the naked guilt in her eyes.

"I don't know what to say to you," she told me.

I sat up. She had tricked me into a situation where I had no choice but to reply. Still, I tried my best not to. All I said was, "No."

"No?" she repeated.

"Emily… I can't. I can't do this right now."

"When?" she asked in a small voice. "When will you be able to?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "Maybe never."

"But I don't want to leave it that way," she pleaded with me. "God, Leah… I don't want you to hate me."

I couldn't help it; the anger rose in me when she said that. "Then what is this?" I snapped. "What are you doing? How could you-" I broke off, shaking my head.

"I know," she said softly. "I wish I could explain."

"Oh God, Em, don't do that," I said heavily, closing my eyes. "Don't talk like him." She didn't say anything for a long moment. I could see plainly that she felt compelled to protect him, and it surprised me. "How long has this been going on?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Since… my accident," she said softly. She added quickly, "We never wanted to go behind your back."

"But you did," I countered. "You can't undo that."

"What can I do?" she whispered.

I thought about her question for a long moment "Tell me the truth," I said softly. Though she didn't speak, her face said everything. "You know, don't you? You know what's going on with him."

"Yes…" she trailed off uncertainly.

It hurt, to know that he had not only fallen for her, but that he trusted her enough that she knew his secrets, things that he couldn't seem to even dream of telling me. And now Emily was keeping the truth from me, too. I felt like I was a victim of a giant conspiracy, or that I was going crazy. It was like Sam had cast some kind of weird spell on her, and I found that my overwhelming feeling for her was one of pity.

"I don't think you should live here anymore," I said softly. Emily had only been visiting for a short time, and she had been planning to leave next week, but I couldn't stand the idea of her being here any longer. I might not be able to hate her, but it didn't mean I wanted her in my face all day long for another day, let alone a week. Besides, I didn't actually believe she would leave now.

Emily confirmed my suspicions as she slowly nodded. Her eyes filled with tears that she struggled to hold back. "I'm not going home," she whispered. "I… I don't…"

"You don't want to leave Sam," I finished for her heavily. Her averted gaze answered for her. I let out a single breath of frustration, but then I just shook my head. "Well you can't stay here," I said firmly. More quietly I added, "Please Em… I can only take so much."

She sat there for a moment, and then she stood up, but sat down again a moment later. She took one of my hands in both of hers, which was the last thing I wanted, and her voice wavered as she said, "I don't think I can ever tell you how sorry I am, Leah… I love you so much."

"Do you love him?" I couldn't help but ask.

"No," she answered softly. "But I could. He just wants… I don't know, a chance. I've run out of ways to say no. Doesn't everyone deserve a chance?"

"Don't I?" I retorted bitterly, but then I raised my hand to prevent her from answering. I didn't want to hear any more; I couldn't handle another word from her right now. So I just shook my head, dumbfounded, but said nothing. I pulled my hand away from her, and slowly she rose to her feet. She stood there for a moment, gathering her breath, trying hard not to cry, but finally she failed, and as she fled from my bedroom I could hear the tears in her small gasps for air.

Slowly, I picked up my pillow and hugged it to my chest. I squeezed so hard my arms started to hurt, but otherwise I kept my whole body relaxed. If I could just sit here, forever, not moving, not thinking, then I would be okay. I would live through this- I just had to keep breathing. One breath would follow naturally from another, and this too would pass. Somehow. If I could just make my chest a thing of ice, there was no way that my heart could be hurt any worse than it already had been.

Outside, I heard low voices, and I wondered who was awake to see Emily off- my father, perhaps, who I thought bitterly would probably embrace Sam's moving on; or my mother, who would take in the situation with shock and not really know what to say; or my brother-

The voices died and I immediately heard the sounds of quick footsteps; Seth burst through my door and stood there for a moment, his eyes shining as he looked at me, his head shaking in disbelief. I tried to smile at him, tried to make myself seem better than I felt, but I couldn't even turn my lips up properly. Finally, I just put down my pillow and opened my arms to him. He ran to me he threw his own arms around me, pulling me close. For once, he was holding me, and I sank into that embrace like it could save my life.

Through his small body pressed into my arms, I couldn't help but learn warmth again. The ice in my chest softened and the tears came, hot and thick, flowing into his soft black hair. He stayed quiet, just holding me, as I wept. I tried to recover myself, to be strong for him, not wanting him to have to deal with the burden of soothing his older sister. It was a role reversal I wasn't comfortable with, but Seth held me tightly even as I resisted his consolation.

"It's okay, Leah," he finally whispered into my hair, holding onto me like a vice. "Don't be so stubborn."

That melted the last of my resolve and I sobbed into his shoulder as he rubbed my back, murmuring words of comfort. Part of me smiled to hear his soft whispers of reassurance, because he was using the same words I had often used to comfort him as a child, like when he scraped his knee or was scared to go to sleep. Now I was the one who needed to be soothed, and Seth was there for me. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

But soon, I forced myself to calm down enough so that I could pull back from his arms and smile at him. I didn't want Seth to worry about me. He eyed me suspiciously but I took his hand and squeezed it, and let him hold it as I brushed the last of my tears away and took deep, even breaths.

"I hate him," he said finally, his voice quiet. "I hate her, too."

I was taken aback at first, but then I said gently, "No you don't."

"I want to," he answered insistently.

Gently, I squeezed his hand. "Well, I don't want you to."

"Why not?" he asked, glaring at my floor. "They hurt you. It isn't fair."

"Life's not fair," I sighed.

His glare moved to my face and he pulled his hand back from mine, crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned back against my headboard and I curled my feet into my legs, sitting cross-legged in front of him. I wished I knew just what was going through his head; I didn't know how to make this easier for him, and I wanted very badly just to tell him not to worry, that everything was fine, but I knew he'd never believe me.

"Why did everything have to change?" he finally whispered.

"Not everything did," I offered. "I didn't change. You didn't."

He raised his eyes to mine, and I could see the fear and confusion in them. I felt a rush of anger at Sam, and at Emily, for making my brother worry so much. I'd wanted to keep him far away from my pain, but now I could plainly see that I had failed. I reached out and ruffled his hair, smoothing my hand over the softness of his cheek and trying to look strong for him. He let out a soft breath of frustration.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Put on a brave face like that. I'm not a little kid anymore, Leah. You don't have to protect me."

I smirked at him. "Seth… even when you're twenty-five, I'll still try to protect you."

"But you don't have to," he said in frustration, standing up and pacing to my window. I watched him, taking in his posture and the strength of his back. He was still young and wiry, but I could see that one day he could be a very strong man. But I couldn't believe that he would never need me. Finally he turned back to me and let out a sigh. "It's okay to let me be there for you sometimes, Leah," he said softly, returning to my side and sitting down on the bed next to me. "I promise I'm not going to break."

My smile was a bit sadder than I meant it to be as I gazed at him. "I know that, Seth," I said finally. And I did, really; I just didn't want to admit it sometimes. As proud as I was of his confidence and independence, I still wanted him to need me, because I needed him.

"It's not fair what Sam did to you," he said softly. "He doesn't even care that he's hurting you."

How easy it would have been to believe that, but I couldn't reconcile those words with what I knew of Sam. His stricken face from when he'd seen me in his bedroom the night before came back to me. "I think he does care," I said softly.

"I would never hurt anyone like that," Seth argued. "He's so mean."

I couldn't help but smile. "You never would," I agreed, "because you're so nice."

He tossed me a glare, but then his features softened and I knew he wasn't really mad. "I'm afraid you're always going to be sad," he said in a small voice. He offered hopefully, "I could beat him up for you."

I laughed. "You're sweet," I said, unable to contain my broadening smile. I pulled my brother into a quick hug. "I feel better," I told him. "Really."

"Really?" he repeated doubtfully.

"Promise," I said, and I actually meant it. "I'm going to have a shower… get fresh and clean."

A sly smile spread over Seth's face. "Good idea," he teased. "You stink." Then he grabbed my pillow, hit me in the face with it, and ran from my bedroom. I laughed after him, but I didn't follow him as I might have before all this; when we were younger and had lighter burdens to carry, we'd make a game of trying to see who could pin whom to the floor first. But I knew he'd forgive me for avoiding the game today.

I opted for the shower instead, and I spent longer than I needed to in there, using the warm water and guaranteed solitude to calm myself. I actually did feel a lot better afterward. But I also didn't like the result of my hour-long meditation in the shower: I still wanted to talk to Sam. I felt profoundly unsettled about how things had been left last night, and even though I'd had trouble even looking at Emily today, I still felt the urge to try, somehow, to reconcile things with Sam.

It was like a deep scab that I knew would heal better if I left it alone, but I couldn't seem to stop picking at it. I needed to know if that was even possible, if my giving it a real try would lead to an actual chance at friendship, or if I would find, once and for all, that this was the true end of a bond I once thought would carry me for the rest of my life. I didn't want to have any regrets about us; if this had to be our ending, I wanted to be able to walk away knowing that I had done everything I could to stop it.

But I knew now what a mistake it would be to just go over there like I had last night. So I called first, which I knew would be awkward in itself. I toweled myself dry slowly, stalling as I tried to plan out the words I would say. But finally, after I had dressed brushed my hair, I couldn't procrastinate anymore. Sam had never owned a cell phone, but despite how much I liked his mother I prayed that he would answer their home phone.

One wish was granted. His gruff, deep voice answered, "Hello?"

I took a breath. "Hey," I said softly.

"Hey…" He didn't sound like he was disappointed to hear from me, but I could definitely hear the guilt and discomfort in his voice.

"So, listen," I said, keeping my voice calm. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have let myself in like that. I didn't think anyone was home."

"I read your note," he answered, taking me off-guard; I'd forgotten I'd left it there.

"Oh," I said. "Okay."

"Do you still feel that way?" he asked uncertainly. "About being friends… not fighting?"

I had to think about it. "I don't know, Sam," I said honestly.

"You have every right to be angry at me," he answered.

I let out a long breath. "I know," I told him. "But… I just don't see the point. My being angry doesn't change anything. I'm just tired of this. I'm tired of these terrible moments. I'm tired of feeling like I'm talking to a stranger when I hear your voice."

He didn't answer me right away. Finally he said, "I know. I do miss you, Leah."

"In what way?" I couldn't help but whisper. I heard him hesitate, and then I realized this conversation was going too far for the phone. "I want to talk," I told him. "In person. Can I come over?"

Again, the hesitation. "Now's… not really a good time," he answered.

"She's there, isn't she?" I asked flatly. He didn't have to answer me; the silence stretched across the line for a long moment as I struggled to maintain my composure. "Name a time and place that works for you," I said finally. "I'll be there."

After a moment of thought he answered, "First Beach, by Akalat. An hour?"

"I'll be there," I repeated, and hung up the phone. I'd like to say I did so gracefully, but really I slammed the receiver down on its cradle and then I flopped onto my bed and screamed into my pillow for a good minute or two. I would have liked very much to destroy something, but I didn't want Seth to overhear me.

Akalat is the real name for the sizable horseshoe-shaped clump of rock, dirt, and trees that squats in the bay just off First Beach, where the Quillayute River joins the sea. James Island, the white people called it, but Sam preferred our name and so did I. It used to be our spot; when we wanted to escape the watchful eyes of our parents, especially when we were first together and didn't want to make a big deal out of our burgeoning relationship, we would meet here. We would sit amongst the giant logs of driftwood and share a picnic, and talk until my curfew forced us home, with Akalat looming in the background, creating beautiful red-orange panoramas at sunset.

It was the most romantic place I could think of, but Sam wouldn't have chosen it for that reason. He would have picked it because it was somewhere familiar, a place where we had shared hundreds of kisses, and where we'd said 'I love you' for the first time. He had chosen it because he wanted me to have those memories thick in the air around me when we said goodbye to that love. I knew him well enough to know that. But I still wanted to believe that the end wasn't really coming, even though in my heart I knew it had been and gone, weeks ago. I felt like the mother of a missing child, never truly understanding what happened, my heart aching with the deep, primal knowledge that my baby is gone, but still holding out hope that somehow, against all odds, she might be found alive and well.

I parked my car near the beach and walked to our spot. I had walked this way many times, but never with such heaviness in my heart. I had avoided this spot while Sam was away, saving it, I think, for when he would come home and we could again picnic here and hold each other like nothing ever happened. It had been weeks since I'd visited the beach, but now I knew, that moment would never come again.

I truly felt as though someone had died, as though I was grieving a great loss, as I reached the shelter of sun-bleached white logs. Sam wasn't there yet, but just as well. I sat down on the sand, still warm from the day's sun, and gazed out at the ocean. It was comforting to think that despite how many things had changed for me, this landscape that had formed the backdrop of my entire life- this Rez, this beach, that island- would never change. It would still be here, long after my broken heart had healed. I took comfort in the idea that I was probably not the first girl to gaze out at this particular patch of sea and feel regret and sorrow. For all I knew, my own ancestor had done the same. I felt for those faceless girls, other young women thrown off the courses of their lives by chance, adrift in a new sea through which they had no way to navigate. I knew that we would find our way again, or perish trying.

Sam's familiar footsteps cut through my daydream and I steeled myself, not moving a muscle as he approached me. Soon his broad face and deep brown eyes came into view, and then his strong shoulders, and then the rest of him. I felt a deep ache as he approached me, a physical ache of knowing that I would never feel his rich brown skin against mine, or gaze into his eyes as he pulled me close and transformed us, for a short time anyway, into a single person. But even outside of my visceral desire for his body, I just wanted him to hold me. I felt so robbed of all the gifts of a proper farewell- that last hug, that last touch, that last moment of eye contact… and the last kiss that holds the memory of every other kiss but also the knowledge that no other kiss will follow, that our lips will now have to part ways, forever. Only I knew I could never have those things, because he wasn't grieving the way I was, and he didn't feel such a loss the way I did. So I was just left, hanging.

He sat down next to me and gave me a small smile, which I returned. Then we both turned our gazes back to the sea for a long moment, not saying anything. It sounds funny now, but I remember I wished I could read his mind. I wanted desperately to know what he was thinking in that moment. But all I could hear was the silence of his presence, and the lapping of the waves on the shore, and a breeze through the trees.

He spoke first. He turned to me and said, "I'm really sorry, Leah. About last night. That wasn't how I wanted you to find out."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" I asked softly, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from the water and give them to him, even though I knew I would hate what I found there- guilt, pain, discomfort, and no love. Not real love anyway, not the deep, overwhelming love that used to glow from his eyes just for me. I never thought it was possible for that light to go out, and yet here it was gone from his eyes- extinguished.

"I was," he said. "Emily felt terrible about it."

"She should," I countered.

"She didn't want this to happen," he answered, but I looked away, not wanting to hear him defend his new girlfriend to me. He let out a long breath. "I don't want to hurt you anymore. This is the way things are now… I know how terrible that is, Leah. I do. But I can't change it."

"But maybe if you told me why it had to be like this now," I answered in exasperation.

"I can't," he answered firmly.

I shook my head. "I don't know why I even came here…"

"I wish I could tell you," he said, his deep voice soft. "Every day I wish that. You have no idea."

"That's all you ever say," I said heavily. "'I can't,' or 'I wish I could,' or 'you have no idea.' How would you have felt if I just dropped you and didn't tell you anything about it?"

He reached for me, holding me gently by my upper arms, and turned me to face him. Even through my windbreaker and the long-sleeved shirt I wore underneath, his touch sent a shockwave through my body. "Lee-Lee," he said, looking deeply into my eyes. The nickname hurt. "There is something really wrong with me. I've changed… for good. Can't you see that?"

I felt the tears rising in my eyes and I pulled away from him, as much as I didn't want to break even that tiny bit of contact. "Of course I see that," I snapped. "It's all I see."

He gazed at me for a long time, but I didn't look at him. He let out a sigh and said, "Sometimes I think it would have been easier for you if I'd just died. You would have been able to move on… but instead you have this constant reminder walking around, of the old Sam."

"But you didn't die," I protested. "You might have changed, but you're not dead."

"Sometimes I wonder that," he said quietly. "Sometimes I feel like I did die, and now I'm somebody else. The same face and everything but… different inside. Completely."

The way he was talking scared me. "What happened to you out there?" I whispered. But he closed off from me so fast that even his expression went blank, so I just turned back to the sea, watching the gulls dive-bomb the water in search of fish.

"Do you want me to just stay away?" he asked finally. "Would it be easier for you if we never saw each other again?" He sounded sincere; I think he really wanted to know what he could do to help me.

Softly I answered, "Sam, there's four hundred people on this reservation. We're going to run into each other."

"When I see you, I can walk away," he tried.

"No," I said firmly. "I don't want that."

"What do you want?"

"You mean besides everything going back to the way it was, or one last moment with you as you, or an explanation for why you left me and what the hell is going on?" I asked bitterly.

"Yeah," he said heavily. "Besides all that."

Besides that, what did I want? I turned my head and gazed at him. He looked lost, like a little boy who'd played too roughly with a small animal and now was faced head-on, for the first time in his life, with the prospect of death and his own responsibility in the world. He looked like I felt: like he wanted everything to go back to the way it was, but he knew that it never, ever could.

Suddenly, I was crying, and not just a few tears, but thick, incessant tears complete with loud sobs. I felt my whole body shake with the force of them. Sam pulled me into his arms and I clung to him, sobbing into his chest, frustrated even now that the familiar arms that encircled my body were not as familiar as they should be, that somehow even the shape and feel of him had changed.

Finally, I could speak somewhat, and I choked out the truth without thinking about it, the answer to that question of what I wanted, besides everything I couldn't have. "I want you to promise me that one day, all of this will be better," I whispered, my voice shaking. "That I'll be able to wake up in the morning without missing you, without wondering if you're okay or if I'll ever feel warm again."

Sam squeezed me tighter and tucked my head under his chin. As for warmth, his skin was on fire, the same as it had been that first night when he'd come home, and I'd held him, kissed him, not knowing then that it would be the last time we really touched. I felt his lips very close to my ear as he whispered to me urgently, "I promise. I promise, Leah." He sounded so sure of himself that I had to believe him, even though I knew he had no way of guaranteeing any of those things.

He let me hold him for a long time, until all my tears were dry and my body had stopped shaking. I think he would have let me hold him all night if I'd needed to; I believe he would have given me almost anything to be able to make me stop caring about him and feel whole again. In that way, he still loved me. It wasn't what I wanted, but it was something. Finally, hours later, we both stood silently, and then we went our separate ways.

I would like to say that, after our goodbye on the beach, Sam Uley and I put everything behind us and became friends. I would like to tell you that Emily and I made up too, that I was able to completely forgive her and that I rose from my bed the next day as a new person. But Sam and I had taken years to build our love, and then in the course of a month he had torn it down again. It would take perhaps just as much time to build us up to a level of trust where I could call him a friend without the taste of bitterness on my tongue. The only thing I could do was let him go. That was an accomplishment in and of itself as far as I was concerned; I had come to a place where I didn't hate him, didn't hate Emily, but I didn't want them around me, either.

I needed space to digest, absorb, and come to terms with my loss, and as much as I wanted them to take the same pause, I knew they would keep moving forward, and that that would hurt me, too. Despite what I had said about the size of the reservation, I believed then that I could avoid them enough to let that wound close in the time it needed. Eventually, one day, we could all be friends. Tentatively, I looked forward to that future place, where I could laugh about this, where another person who I couldn't even imagine now could soothe me and love me and wash away all my regrets.

But that was before other boys started coming down with the same fever Sam had, a sickness that seemed to spread mysteriously through the Rez until it finally came to my own doorstep. There, it paused and gathered itself before sinking its invisible teeth into my little brother's flesh, tearing him down into a secret place of myth and horror, a place where only a select few may travel. And then, it turned on me.