I breathed in the crisp morning air. It smelled like rain and earth. Like La Push. I was at peace, decided. I was going to put an end to all of this; it was an accident, a mistake. Mistakes could be fixed, they weren't the end of the world. I was on the pill, so I wasn't going to let one night ruin the friendship Embry and I shared. No worries.

It was only a five-minute walk to the small line of stores that kept La Push running. Embry's was on the end closest to the highway, adorned with two signs: Welcome to La Push and Call's Hunting and Home Supply. Of course, everyone in La Push knew that Embry stocked groceries in the back room and behind the counter, for residents and really desperate looking tourists.

He looked up from the counter when I walked in, the bell above the door ringing, "Jenna!" My name came out of his mouth like a sacred oath, like he actually cared. I pushed the thought away, I couldn't let myself think about it.

"Hi." I said softly, losing some of my confidence at the sight of him. He looked stressed out, ruts in his hair where he'd run his fingers through it, something I knew he only did when he was really upset. I took a deep breath, walking up to the counter. "Do you have any basil?"

"Basil?" He whispered, handing me a glass jar from under the cash register like a zombie, "Jenna, we need to talk."

I tilted my chin up, in the defiant manner I shared with my mother, "No, we don't. Embry, last night was a mistake. It was no ones fault." My confidence wavered, and I looked at my shoes before chancing a look at his face, "Honestly, I'm glad it was you and not some other creep."

"Some other creep?" he whispered to himself in disbelief, horror written on his face, "Jenna, I'm supposed to protect you."

I felt bad. I'd meant to put everything to rest, not upset him more. I put a finger to his lips, "Embry, don't talk about it. It's okay. I don't want one night to ruin our friendship." He looked down, shame in his brown eyes, which I noticed, for what didn't feel like the first time, that his eyes were almost gold. I put my hand under his chin, forcing him to look me in the eyes, "I'm okay. You're still my best friend. Alright?"

"I should never have done that to you!" He yelled out, looking more anxious than I'd ever seen before.

True to my heritage, I exploded into a full-blown rage from nothing, "Embry! Shut up!" I slapped him and he simply stared at me, mouth open in shock. I put a five-dollar bill on the counter; "Just let it go. I'll see you tonight." I muttered as I walked out the door, the little bell sounding happily.

At home in the kitchen, Mom was holding an icepack to my throbbing hand, "Jenna, really?" She said for the hundredth time in disbelief, "You slapped him?"

I nodded, measuring a half cup of milk out with my other hand. "Yup! Just like that, I slapped him, and I'm the one who needs an ice pack. Oh the irony. I bet everyone'll get a good kick out of my stupidity."

"You're lucky." She said, sitting on the stool next to me, looking rather pale.

"Lucky?" I chortled, thinking she was making a joke, but then stopped. She wasn't laughing. Her face was scrunched up with the same expression she usually saved for when dad wasn't home exactly when he said he would be. "Mom?"

She touched me on the cheek, "I don't think you should come to the bonfire tonight."

"What? Why?" I yelled, standing up.

She held the icepack to her chest, "I just don't think it's a good idea to have you near him while you are fighting."

"Mom, we aren't fighting, he was just being an idiot. Really, we'll be fine." I said, I wasn't about to miss seeing my family.

"It's not safe!" She yelled, and we both stared at each other, my mother almost never raised her voice, to anyone, and never at me. Uncle Billy, maybe, but never at me; or Megan for that matter.

I put a hand on her arm. She had me worried now. "Mom, what's wrong?"

Her bottom lip quivered and she looked away, "Nothing."

"Mom, please, tell me what's wrong." I pleaded.

She shook her head and tears fill her eyes, "I'm so sorry, but I can't tell you."

"Just try, Mom, please. Why are you so afraid?" I was practically begging her.

"I can't tell you the truth, Jenna. Not yet, but soon. I promise." She said.

"You can never tell me the truth! Could you just look me in the eyes and tell me why you keep lying to me?" I yelled at her.

Those threatened tears fell from her eyes, "I'm sorry, Jenna. I just can't." She got up and a moment later, I heard her bedroom door shut. I was so tired of her lying to me, of always feeling like I was an outsider.

I went outside, thinking I was just going to take a drive to Forks to clear my head, but my ancient red truck wouldn't start. The truck had been fine when I'd driven it yesterday, and in a town filled to the brink with mechanics, it was apparent that someone had messed with it to keep me from leaving. My father, more than likely. The thought of someone sabatoging my car sent me into a full blown rage. I couldn't stay here anymore, not by myself.

I went up to my own room and grabbed my phone, dialing the number to my dorm room. My roommate, Vitalia, answered on the first ring, "Hey, it's Vitalia, what's up?"

"Hey, Vi."

"Jenna!" She screeched in my ear, "I miss you already! How does it feel to be home?"

I told her everything that had happened, and she was instantly serious, "You just hang out at your house, and Russ and I will be there in two hours."

Russ, or Russell rather, was her husband, and possibly the only man that didn't live in La Push that looked instantly intimidating. He lived just off campus with their three year old son, Luca. Knowing that she was bringing the tight lipped Russian comforted me. "Luca too?" I asked.

She laughed, "Yup, we'll bring the little one too, he'll enjoy the car ride to see Aunt Jenna." The little boy did love me, and I loved him too. I loved them all, and sometimes, I could convince myself that they were my family. It was easier to think of the people who had been so welcoming and loving to me as my family.

I heard her speak in fluent Russian to her husband, due partly to the fact that he wasn't a fan of speaking English, and partly because I got the feeling that most of what she said to her husband was wholly inapropriate in English. Vitalia was nothing if not a flirt. He was secretive, but he looked at Vitalia like she hung the moon and the stars, and his son was their world. I looked at the door and heard my mother moving around the house, "Just hurry, I'll meet you at the city limit."

"Why?" She asked.

"I don't feel comfortable having you two come here."

"Just because they don't tell you everything doesn't mean that you need to keep your little town hidden away. We'll pick you up at your house, if you're sure you really want to leave. Besides, I think it's time we met your family."

I smiled, "Okay, just drive slow when you get into town, and pray no one shoots you."

Vi hissed over the phone, "Don't say that so loudly, Russell doesn't need to think they'll outshoot him. You know how cranky that makes him." I heard Luca giggle, "Yeah, daddy gets so growly, doesn't he, baby boy?"

He cooed again, "Yup, yup!"

"He gets so happy when everyone else is angry. He is his father's son." She said incredulously, "We'll be there for you soon, lady, don't worry." She made shuffling noises, "Tell Aunt Jenna bye."

"Bye bye Jemma!" The toddler yelled into the phone and I smiled, he was an adorable little boy.

"See you soon, Jenna-boo." Vi said in a sing-songy voice. The phone clicked off and I felt so much better. The sunny blonde was my best friend, and a great person.

I packed up my things again, fully intending to not spend another night, and dismantled my bed, putting it back under Megan's. I looked around her room, and couldn't help but agree that something was terribly wrong with her. Before I had left, she had had friends, and pictures of all of them had littered her side of the room. When I had gone to college, I had expected her junk to expand to my side of the room, but now there was nothing, anywhere. The pink paint was still on the walls, the only thing to identify the resident as a girl.

Locking the door, I got a little nosier, pilfering through the desk drawers. They were mostly filled with school stuff, and that was when I found her last report card. There was no way my parents had seen it. She was failing three of her classes, and the others were on the borderline. Our parents had always pushed us to get good grades. "Megan, what is going on with you?" I whispered to myself.

One of the drawers was locked, and I knew I'd find a clue to her abnormal behaviour if I could open it. A plus of living in a town with far too many men, picking locks was something I'd managed to learn. A bobby pin was sitting ontop of the dresser, begging for me to use it. I sat on the ground and spent the next few minutes gigling the pin in the lock until I heard it click open. "What the hell are you doing?" Megan was standing at the door, her face full of rage. She looked worse than she had just an hour earlier, tired, and really weak.

"How did you get in here?" I asked, certain I had locked the door before snooping.

"The lock's broken! What are you doing in my room?" She exclaimed.

"It's my room too!" I said, making the mistake of standing up. Her eyes widened when she saw what I had been doing. She lunged past me and slammed the drawer closed, but not before I got a glimpse of a box in the depths of the container. My sister and I locked eyes. Her face was red and she looked scared of me, of what I had seen. And she had every right to be.