Hidden Traces - thanks for reviewing again, after three times in a row. : ) I'm glad you like the way I give Forks an opinion. I figure it has opinions about 'the way things ought to be' just like the world we live in has gravity and physics. And Maureen is totally the mojo-deflater. :D
glowing bookworm - Glad my story could make it onto your alert list, and thanks so much for the 'glowing' review. Feel free to comment on every chapter, although it's hardly necessary. Your compliments were very nice.
whats. the. time. mr. wolf - I laughed too when I heard about the sparkling. Thanks for being one of my long-time reviewers!
xXKazaneXx - A few swipes is enough for now, I think. The werewolves aren't too stupid until Stephanie Meyer elaborates on the imprinting and the hive mind. Your reviews are always so delightfully thoughtful and articulate. Glad my story inspires you to respond. :D
lil artist - No, no one has to worry about werewolves imprinting on Maureen. As far as I'm concerned, imprinting is a plot device used to create angsty connection where there was none. I have this crazy theory that romance...especially the sudden kind that involves no buildup whatsoever...is neither healthy nor interesting. This may or may not be reflected in my story.
Also, I'm gonna give you all a little more insight into Maureen's nature in this chapter. And the rest of it in the next chapter. And quick note: I researched the teen driving laws in Washington state, and this is what the internet gave me. I have no idea how valid the information is..
Neighborhood Wolf Watch
"You know this is illegal, right?" Mike Newton said.
"Huh?" Maureen turned her head. She'd been staring at the trees along the side of the road, watching them blur into a twisted brown mass as Mike's car picked up speed.
"It's illegal, driving like this." Mike said, smiling mischievously.
Maureen frowned.
"First, whatever it is, you're clearly not serious about it." Maureen said. "Second, how is any of this illegal? You got your license a month ago."
"I got my intermediate license." Mike corrected. "Regular license is when I turn eighteen. Until then I can't drive in a car with anyone under twenty, unless they're my immediate family. Washington State law."
"Huh. I didn't know that." Maureen said. "So you actually read the rule book?"
Mike had the decency to look slightly sheepish around his grin. "No, my parents told me. I'm not supposed to be driving anyone else unless they say so."
Maureen raised her eyebrows. "So if a cop pulls us over, we're automatically screwed. And you didn't mention this when I asked if you could give me a lift?"
Mike shot her an apologetic look before quickly returning his eyes to the road. "I wasn't really thinking about it at the time. Do you want to turn back?"
"No." Maureen said. "I'm not getting to the Reservation by bike, that's for damn sure."
"I don't remember any offer of extra-credit in History." Mike said.
"I kind of begged for it. I bombed the last test." Maureen shot Mike an embarrassed look, hoping she looked more like a rueful student than a bald-faced liar. "I need a living source, since it's local history. I only have a few questions to ask, it shouldn't take very long."
"Sure." Mike nodded. "Don't worry, I wasn't gonna do much this afternoon except homework. And you said you'd make it up to me."
"That I did." Maureen settled back in the front passenger seat. "I promise."
When they turned onto the main reservation road, the forest seemed to grow twice as thick—something Maureen would have thought nigh on impossible. But the road was actually smoother than the county highway had been.
Maureen scanned the map quest directions, scribbled onto a sheet of notebook paper. She glanced up at the road periodically, looking for signs and house numbers.
"There." She pointed. "That's the mailbox, the right number. Turn here."
The Clearwater driveway was a long dirt road, bumpy but not horribly so. Maureen told Mike to stop the car just as the house pulled into view around the curve of the road.
"It'll take less than ten minutes, I promise." She said, putting on her backpack as she climbed out of the car. "Just sit tight."
"I could drive you closer—" Mike said.
"I'm good!" Maureen was already trotting towards the house.
It was a rustic looking house—there was more wood than aluminum siding. But it was large, and sturdy looking. Maureen climbed a short row of steps onto the porch, and knocked on the front door. Almost immediately she heard a muffled altercation—two high voices, that sounded like they were arguing. After a short minute, Maureen knocked again. Ten seconds later, the door opened. Behind the threshold stood a girl a little older than Maureen. She held a cordless phone in her hand, curled up against her shoulder to muffle the sound. She was strikingly pretty—long eyelashes, and long black hair caught up in a loose braid. Her expression, however, was less than pleasant.
"Can I help you?" She asked, tone suggesting the opposite.
"Hello, is this the Clearwater residence?" Maureen asked.
"Yeah." The girl said.
Maureen attempted her best trust-me smile. "Great. My name is Maureen Stanley, I moved to Forks a couple months ago. I need to speak with your Father about…well, a supernatural neighborhood watch, I guess."
Maureen knew it was the wrong thing to say before she even finished saying it. The girl had no idea what she was talking about, and was starting to look pissed.
The girl raised the phone to her ear. "I'll call you back in a minute, Sam."
She pressed the end call button and dropped the phone on a table next to the door.
"Now look here, crazy—" She began.
"I need to speak with Harold Clearwater." Maureen said. "Is he home?"
"I don't care what you're selling, we don't want it." The girl declared.
"I'm not selling—ah, screw this." Maureen crossed the threshold and moved past the girl. Like Jasper had in the Volvo, the girl reflexively stepped back to maintain a personal boundary.
Maureen stepped into the big front room of the house. The living room was through an open archway—there was a younger boy sitting on the couch, looking up from a book.
"Shit! Dad!" The girl shouted. "Dad, there's a crazy white girl in the house!"
"Hey!" Maureen called, raising her voice to match. "Look, Sir. I came because I know about the were—er, the wolf story!" She eyed the boy and girl…Jasper had made it clear that most Quileutes had no idea about their tribe's supernatural bent, and Maureen had no intention of telling Harry Clearwater's children if he hadn't told them himself.
The girl grabbed Maureen's shoulder. "Get out!" She shouted, yanking Maureen backwards.
"I have to tell you something Mr. Clearwater, sir!" Maureen shouted at the air. "It's something you should know."
"Seth, stay where you are!" The girl called to the boy on the couch, as she manhandled Maureen towards the door. "Crazy girl, if you don't get out right now—"
"Leah, let her go." The voice came from upstairs. Heavy footsteps sounded from above, growing louder as they approached the stairwell.
An older man descended the stairs. He had white-gray hair, and a bit of paunch underneath his plaid shirt. He eyed Maureen coolly, his face impassive.
"You need to speak to me?" He said.
Maureen nodded. "Yes, about—things you should know about. Like how you know about the Cullens. I know, too. I know everything, and more. There are things I need to tell you."
Mr. Clearwater's eyes narrowed. Behind him another figure moved down the stairs—a woman, about his age.
"Sue." Mr. Clearwater said in greeting. "I think I'd like to have pizza for dinner. Would you take Leah and Seth and go pick some up?"
The woman looked at him, as if trying to read his face. "Sounds good to me, Harry." She finally said. "If you'll have salad pizza."
Mr. Clearwater made a noise of discontent. "…fine."
The woman smiled, walking towards the door. "Kids, get your coats."
"Mom—" The girl Leah shot Maureen an angry look.
Sue Clearwater was already putting on her jacket. "Come on, now."
"My friend who drove me here, he's waiting for me outside." Maureen said. "So don't worry about the car that's in your driveway."
"Thank you." Sue Clearwater collected her purse, and herded her children outside. The door closed with a solid click.
Maureen turned to face Mr. Clearwater.
"I'm sorry I came into your house uninvited, Mr. Clearwater." Maureen said. "I was afraid if I called, you'd hang up. And I need to speak with you."
"Then we'll speak." Mr. Clearwater motioned towards the living room, Maureen walked to the couch and sat down. "What's your name, dear?"
"Maureen Stanley." Maureen said, as Mr. Clearwater sat down in a large armchair facing her. She hesitated—then spoke again. "But I used to be called Spinner. That's my real name."
"Well, Spinner." Mr. Clearwater said. His voice sounded indulgent, but his face was still unreadable. "You say you know something about wolves, and the Cullens. What might that be?"
Maureen took a deep breath. "The Cullens are vampires." She said. "And Quileutes are werewolves…or some of them are, anyway. Your ancestors found the Cullens out, and forged a truce that kept their secret, and also kept them off your territory."
Mr. Clearwater's eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed. Maureen gave him a long look.
"You didn't think I knew all that." She said.
Mr. Clearwater looked upset for a moment, then his face relaxed slightly. "I was certainly hoping you didn't." He said. "But you seem to be in the thick of it. Poor girl. What did they do to you?"
"They didn't do anything, short of making snide comments." Maureen said. "I'm not caught up in some dangerous vampire conspiracy. I'm my own conspiracy…I'm not entirely human. I'm a…a…"
Oh, screw this.
"…a world-hopper."
Mr. Clearwater looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or be upset. "You're a what?"
"Sorry, that's not accurate. That's a dumb way of saying it." Maureen said quickly. "There's no proper name for what I am. But I have the power to move between perspectives—parallel universes, you might say. That's how I came here. I moved between perspectives to get to Forks."
Harry Clearwater seemed to be trying to take it all in. Maureen felt desperation rise in her throat. Her whole life, she'd been preoccupied with keeping her true nature a secret. Only just now did she realize how hard the reverse was to prove.
"Please give me the benefit of the doubt." Maureen begged. "You know people who can turn into werewolves. Wouldn't it make sense that other strange things existed too?"
Mr. Clearwater stared at Maureen for another ten seconds. He finally gave a sort of half-shrug.
"'Werewolf' isn't the exact word." He said. "'Shape-shifter' would be better."
His words were like acquiescence. Maureen let loose a breath she hadn't known she was holding. She felt a wave of gratitude wash over her.
"You mean they can change into other creatures?" She asked politely.
Mr. Clearwater reached towards a small table beside the armchair. He opened a box sitting on the table, and pulled out a pipe. "No, just wolves."
Then you say 'werewolf'. Maureen thought, despite her gratitude. Shape-shifter implies multiple shapes...a shape-shifter who can only turn into a werewolf is a werewolf. I'm sensing contrivance here. Whatever Forks did to make vampires stupid, it's probably made the werewolves dumb too.
"I'm sorry, but you don't…" Mr. Clearwater waved his pipe at Maureen, before filling it with tobacco. "You don't look like a…a world-jumper, or whatever you said. Or like anything noticeably unhuman, for that matter. In all honesty, you do look like a crazy white girl."
"I don't have much I can show you." Maureen confessed. "I know it's difficult, me asking you to believe something that's almost impossible to prove."
Harry Clearwater struck a match against the table, and lit his pipe. He puffed thoughtfully for a moment.
"Could you show me another world?" He said.
Maureen shook her head. "You're in this perspective. You're a part of it. You can't leave this place, or see any other."
Forks clicked at the back of Maureen's head, confirming her words. Harry Clearwater was important to this place. Forks wouldn't ever let Harry Clearwater go….until the time was right.
The last bit leapt into her mind unbidden. Maureen shuddered. To have a whole perspective working towards your specifically-timed demise…it wasn't uncommon. But that didn't make it any less horrible.
"I'm sorry I can't offer you any proof." Maureen said. "What I am is kind of stupidly complicated. But I wanted to let the Quileutes know about me—at least the ones who know about vampires and werewolves. I figured it was the neighborly thing to do. I don't want to hurt the Cullens, and I certainly don't want to hurt you and yours. I hope you mean no harm to me."
Mr. Clearwater looked highly skeptical. But he nodded. "Alright. Crazy or no, you don't seem a bad sort. You're not subtle, as evidenced by forcing your way into my house. But you're not malicious either."
"Thank you." Maureen said. She stood up.
"That's all of your time I need to take, Mr. Clearwater." Maureen said. "Just please let your people know that I'm harmless."
Harry Clearwater stood as well.
"I suppose your honesty is worth a bit of mutual trust." He said. "I'll pass the news around to those who should hear it, if that's what you want."
Maureen smiled. "I imagine you'll tell them I might be crazy, though. No matter. I still think this was the polite thing to do. Have a good day, sir."
Maureen left the Clearwater house, and went back to the car. Mike was lounging in the driver's seat, listening to the radio.
"I told you it would be quick." Maureen said. "Come on, it's time to make it up to you. You can have whatever you want."
Mike grinned.
Maureen hadn't been there yet, but The Lounge was easy to find. It was the only non-chain restaurant in Forks.
"Sorry again about leaving you outside." Maureen said, after their food arrived. "I kind of used you. And your car."
Mike shrugged. "Hey, not a problem. You were up front about it when you asked. And I get a free deluxe bacon cheeseburger out of this. So no hard feelings."
Maureen smiled. "Good, I'm glad." She dug into her own burger, hungry with relief.
The visit to the reservation could have been a lot worse. She was lucky Harry Clearwater had been predisposed to accepting weird things, even without proof.
"Um." Mike said loudly, interrupting Maureen from her thoughts. "But…are you sure this isn't a date?"
Maureen was mid bite into her hamburger. She hastily chewed and swallowed.
"Putting aside the fact that I just confessed to using you, I said it wasn't a date." She said. "Did I not say that several times when you asked during history class?"
"Yeah, well." Mike picked up a French fry from his plate and examined it. "I thought maybe you'd changed your mind. Or you were playing hard to get."
I was wrong. It's not just Edward and his self-righteousness. Every boy here lives in a delusion. Maureen rolled her eyes.
"Mike, I'm pretty much inhaling my food here. No socially conscious girl eats like a horse when she's on a date."
"Oh." Mike look dejected. Maureen bit her lip, trying to think of something encouraging to tell Mike without accidentally giving him the 'let's be friends' speech.
"You goof off more often than not, Mike. But you're friendly and from what I can tell, relatively sane. And you're awesome at class projects." Maureen put her hamburger down. "Trust me, you don't have to settle. There are prettier girls out there."
Mike shrugged. "You're pretty." He said, running a hand through his hair. "And your clothes are interesting. And you're not afraid to speak your mind."
Maureen felt her cheeks grow warm. I hate you. She thought to herself. For being a girl, I hate you.
"Not to sound extremely self-deprecating, but I bet I'm not your first choice." Maureen said. "I have acne, and hair the color of sandy dirt. You could do infinitely better."
"Well, apparently no one else wants to go out with me." Mike complained. "You're the closest thing to a date I've had since ninth grade."
"Oh no. You haven't had a date in months. Whatever will you do?" Maureen said, trying to ignore the ache in her chest.
It's my fault for playing the 'you could do better' head game. She thought. Either he would confess to wanting better, or try excessively to boost my self-esteem…neither of which I cared to hear. Good grief, being a teenager sucks. I don't even want to date him, and I still feel heartache at a vague rejection!
"Look, it shouldn't be such a big deal." Maureen said. "Dating, I mean. We're swamped in hormones, but we have our whole lives ahead of us. Don't worry about not having a love interest right now. You can just be your own person, and if someone great comes along, then go for it."
Mike laughed. "I'm not that patient."
"I promise, not having a date in the 10th grade will be of no consequence in three or four years." Maureen said. "What matters is that we treat each other decently. So long as we aren't…well, malicious…and so long as we don't go out of our way to really hurt people, it's okay. Most teenage transgressions are forgivable."
Mike took a bite out of his cheeseburger. "You don't think I'm malicious, do you? You said I goof off—"
"You're obnoxious sometimes, but definitely not malicious." Maureen said. "The only people I'd say are seriously sadistic at our school are Lauren Mallory and Edward Cullen. And only in a very passive, verbal sort of way."
"Cullen's a snob, I agree." Mike said. "But Lauren's cute."
"And you're still thinking with the contents of your pants." Maureen grinned, to show she wasn't really mad. "Come on, eat your fries or I'll steal them."
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