A/N:

I'm sorry once again. This chapter has been finished for five or six days. I thought I had posted it... chapter 4 should be up sometime tomorrow or late today.

-c.c

"I know in other classes when you're taking test you can use your friends, compare answers, use your books, or in other words just plain cheat," I pause for effect before continuing, "but just for today, just for poops and giggles- let's have today's test be a product of our own ability."

The students laugh and slowly quiet down as the begin their test. I fall back to sit behind my desk and check my email. Somehow teaching has made the last three months go by easier, if easier means Embry doesn't feel bad enough to not order me to eat and do things. It did get better about six weeks ago when Claire came home for the weekend. We had an accidental run in over at the grocery store, where Claire and I attempted to be adults. Her mother was with her too so it didn't allow us to be very in depth either. She suggested we email, out of courtesy I'm sure.

I sigh when I see that my email reads no new messages. Only one message from her in six weeks; a response from my original message. I click on it and read it for the ten thousandth time.

Quil,

It was nice to see you too. School's going well. Summer and I are coming home for Thanksgiving…maybe I'll see you then.

-C

It was so short compared to my message back to her, but what could I do. My page automatically refreshes, but there's no new messages. I turn back to my desk and begin to grade papers, a monotonous task.

"Have a good break. Eat lots of turkey," I call after my class as they file out of the classroom. I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving break more than I should. The possibility of seeing Claire is higher, and even though I don't exactly want to see her to hear her say or see that look that tells me that she doesn't want to be with me, I can't help but want to. I need to.

"Emily's invited us all over for Thanksgiving, so you'll get plenty of turkey," a chuckle comes rumbling into my classroom. Embry saunters in past the last few remaining students, sophomores who are scared by the massive sight of him.

I chuckle and watch the last two girls scamper out of the classroom. Embry turns is head watching them too and then he turns back with a grin on his face. "That's illegal," I remind him.

"Yeah too bad about that," he laughs. "So I brought your dad by to pick up the truck earlier today because he needed to go to Port Angeles or something, and I figured you didn't want to run home, so I came by to pick you up."

I sighed. My dad was probably taking the truck up to the junkyard so I wouldn't know it. Embry just didn't want to let me hear it in someone's thoughts when I phased. I had refused to let them get rid of the truck, just because it was one of the few things that I had that could give me proof that there was a time where Claire and I were happy together.

"He took the truck didn't he?" I asked Embry.

He dawdled with a pencil on my desk, looking down and intentionally avoiding eye contact.

"Damn it! Embry!"

"Hey don't say that!" Embry complains. "You needed a new truck. The other teachers were going to start saying things about how you drive a bigger piece of shit than the students here."

I roll my eyes. As pissed as I am, I can't really blame him that much. That truck only had one working door. I clean up my desk quickly and put a few thing I need to get finished over the long weekend into my bag. Embry leads the way out of my classroom and I flick off the lights and shut the door.

Outside, I see that there's only one car left in the lot. Everyone must have escaped out of here pretty quick. Embry picks up a slight jog to avoid the rain, but I pace myself all the way to his car. He's clicking his tongue impatiently when I climb in.

Embry drops me off at my place before he heads back to pick up the shift from Mark. I go inside and check my email, hope never fading for another response. I log onto face book as well because it's blocked at school.

Scanning through the news feed I see about six girls commenting on Embry's wall, and Emily's new photos of Laker and Tripp, and then another thing.

Claire is now listed as In A Relationship.

Instead of shaking and bursting out of my skin, I sink a little lower in my chair. I read the feed over and over again, attempting to decipher something else from it besides the obvious. There's only one thing to conclude from this. She's moved on. And yet she knows how imprinting works. After all those times we talked about it, after I answered every question she ever had honestly about it, she doesn't care. It made no difference. Our entire summer, it made no difference to her. I was just a boy along her path to something else. Well, not a boy exactly. I don't exist in her mind. The supernatural doesn't exist to Claire.

I've come to the conclusion that I hate facebook. Why does everyone have to know each other's information all the time. Trying to keep calm and compose myself, I close my account. I don't want to know anymore. Ignorance is bliss apparently.

I'm cooking dinner when my dad comes through the door an hour and a half later, looking a little guilty. "Need help?"

His question seems an innocent way to gauge my annoyance with him, but I decide to let him off the hook. Why does it matter anymore. She's no longer holding on to any bit of me, so the fact that the truck is gone isn't such a bad thing I guess. I shake my head in my father's direction to grab some milk out of the fridge and he perches himself on a bar stool next to the counter.

"I'm sorry Quil," my dad says in a dry, low tone. I put down the knife that I'm cutting a tomato with and lean on both hands on the counter. His face appears more worn than I remember it being. Have I just not actually looked at him in a while? He appears to be much older than he should be. But then again I'm not exactly twenty five am I?

"Don't worry about it dad," I say. "It needed to be done. I understand." As I say this rationally, my mind doesn't think it's exactly rational. I did love her. I wanted to be with her. But I also wanted her to be happy. The rationality of that didn't exactly add up to me.

My dad gives me a questioning stare. "I don't understand," he finally says after a pause. "When did you start to be understanding? No offense but what you just said is probably the most you've said to me since- well you know."

Picking back up the knife again, I shrug and press my lips together in a firm line. "Claire has a new boyfriend."

He exhales roughly. Again when I look at him, I notice his age. The crinkles around his eyes growing more distinguished. Because I haven't aged I guess it seems weird that he has. "Ah," he sighs. "So this is why you look all contemplative instead of your usual sad pity?"

"I guess," I mumble as I throw the sliced tomatoes into the salad.

"I'm not going to say I know exactly how you feel, but I was pretty messed up when your mom left, like you were when Claire did. And when she got remarried, I did nothing but stand by and be happy for her. I mean she was eleven years older than me. But I knew she was happy."

I rinse the noodles in a colander in the sink absorbing what he's saying. "You didn't imprint on her though."

He chuckles a little before his serious face returns. "Yes, but I did love her. And when she passed I was very upset."

"I know you were. And you had good reason to be. Mom left when Claire was like ten. That's when I had to explain divorce to her," I scowl at the memory. Divorce on the reservation was touchy and frowned upon. It was a rough time for my dad. She left him, and two years later she was remarried. Two years after that she was diagnosed with breast cancer and died within the year. Her new husband didn't even have a funeral for her.

The silence continues as I finish up the dinner. As we fill up our plates my father seems to be contemplative in the silence. "What are you thinking, Quil? I used to be able to guess but, now I'm confused."

"I'm thinking about time actually," I admit honestly.

"Time?"

We sit down at the table, something unusual.

"Well, I was thinking that technically I'd be like thirty five right now. And mom was what sixty four when she died? And you're fifty six? And Claire is eighteen."

With is mouth half full of spaghetti he mumbles, "I'm not going to die Jake. I got yeas and years ahead of me."

"Not that," I say in-between a gulp of milk. "I was just thinking about how mom moved on. How she was so much older than you. I was thinking about the age gap, and how Claire and I are even further than you and mom were."

My father sets down his fork, and pulls his elbows up onto the table. "You know, I think things have a way of working themselves out. Plus like you said, I didn't imprint on her. You're mom and I had differences from the beginning. I'm going to be honest with you. One of two things is going to happen between you and Claire. One, you guys will go through this rough patch and eventually end up together, because I'm a firm believer in what is meant to be will be. Or two, you and Claire won't end up together. She'll move on with her life, and she'll probably let you be apart of it as a friend, but nothing more. But Quil, guess what?"

He pauses and I nod for him to continue.

"It's not up to you. It's up to Claire."

I half smile. It's true it isn't up to me. It's up to her. So I guess I have to have patience. And if there's anything I've learned in the past sixteen years is that I have to have patience. I waited for her for that long to at least give me a chance. Now I just have to wait for her to make a final decision. "I just love waiting," I say, sarcasm soaking my tone.

My dad chuckles. "So now that you're not going to kill me for taking your truck to the junk yard today, after dinner would you like to see the new truck?"

I take a bite of my salad and nod my head. With the prospect of waiting on my mind I can't really comprehend anything else around me.

"You know what I forgot," my dad interrupts my contemplative silence. "I forgot we're responsible for dessert on Thursday at Emily's."

"Well we're going to have to buy it, because I can't really bake, and neither can you," I laugh trying to be lighthearted. Somehow now I notice that my small chuckles haven't been a part of a real laugh since she left. "I'll head out after dinner and pick up whatever's left at the grocery store."

"Good. And by the way, Jake called today said her wanted you to call him soon."

"Mmkay," I murmur and pick up my plate and take it to the sink.

In silence, my father and I do the dishes, something that he and my mom and I used to do all as a family until she left. Something that Claire and I did together at her house when she was young. She used to sit on the counter and dry the dishes in her little hands and splash me with water from the sink and giggle. I loved her giggle.

If it was really meant to be with Claire and I, it would be easy. So maybe Sam's right, I only would need to be with Claire for breeding purposes. Somehow the idea of being an Embry, and going out for 'Breeding Purposes' doesn't exactly appeal to me with Claire. I want to be with her beyond that, at least. Though I do miss touching her in that way.

My dad shows me the new truck, and by new he means six years old with 94 thousand miles on it. Appraising my calm mood and probably wondering how long it will last until I become the moody Quil again, my father reluctantly hands me the keys and a twenty to head down to the grocery store to get dessert for Thanksgiving dinner.

Once on the main road that leads from La Push to Forks, I decide to give Jake a call. I had stopped returning his calls after he became more and more aware of my depressed state. Working was the only way I could focus entirely on something else besides Claire. But then there would be those times when I'd be working on hall duty and I'd see a girl with the exact same color hair as her, and I wouldn't be able to focus for the rest of the day. Those were the times that I would give my class a free day to study and work on their homework, and I sit on my computer and reread every single email she's ever written me. This is why Jake doesn't like talking to me and I don't like talking to him.

He picks up after the third ring with a scruffy voice. "Hello."

"Hey," I try to sound light. "Oh I forgot the time difference. Sorry. You were asleep."

"No it's okay man, I'm glad you called. I need to talk to you about something," he sounds suddenly awake. I can hear him grunt as he probably sits up in bed and then he's quiet for a moment. "Yeah, that's what I'm doing," he says lowly.

So Renesmee must be there.

"Sorry I haven't called back, but," I pause to exhale, "you know."

"Yeah, that's what I wanted, well needed to talk to you about. Umm, so I know that Claire's coming home for thanksgiving, so I should have told you about this before."

I hated when Jacob struggled for words. It was usually something extremely stupid.

He takes an audible deep breath and exhales. "Bella went and saw Claire."