Chapter 12 - Guitars
We arrived on the scene of Jacob's little red house in less than no time. Actually, never mind. That would have been teleportation, and though I have a few extra "gifts", I'm pretty sure teleportation isn't one of them. I clomped up the front steps and Jake held the door for me. The kid was a gentleman in disguise. I told him so.
"Ha!" he snorted. "Whatever you say."
Billy rolled around the corner of the hallway then and we shared a hearty handshake. His hands were big and course, and mine automatically felt weak and gloppy in his grasp. But I liked Billy; Jake was so lucky to have his Dad around. Mine was always so busy at "work". Sometimes I wondered if his work was more important to him than Mom and I. Like Bella said, "And his job, his wife and kids."
"So Charlotte," Billy let go of my hand and leaned back to look at me with dubious eyes. "You're finally here."
I was confused. "Huh?"
"Jacob here hasn't shut up about your coming to visit for days. He's been really excited" Billy grinned up at Jacob, an unrecognizable gleam in his eye.
"Daaad.." Jacob whined ,and then in a strained whisper "Not now!"
I felt Jake's fingers curl around my wrist tightly, and was dragged around a smirking Billy to his room. The hallway, living room, bathroom door, and hall closet flashed past us as he stormed to the smallest door on the left, yanking me inside with one big tug. Jake immediately let go of my wrist and went to pout on his bed.
"Sorry about that," he grumbled. "My Dad can be really annoying."
"Nah, it's okay. I like Billy. He's like the good Father I never had."
Jacobs cheeks flushed chartreuse. "Are..are you blushing?" I asked.
He looked away quickly. "N....No."
I shrugged. That was odd. In the moments he had his face turned, I took a look around Jacob's room. Plain white walls, and a messy bed with navy blue sheets and a beaded dream catcher hanging from one post. The floor had various articles of clothing and books strewn about; which surprised me. The books, not the clothes. I didn't know Jacob read. I knelt to pick up one of them and began to open the front cover, but suddenly it was gone, disappeared form my hand without the slightest of warning.
"Don't. Read that."
Jacob had the book clutched in one quavering hand, the other shaking along with it vibratory harmony. His eyes burned dark with fear and anger. A very different picture from the bashful boy I'd seen not two minutes ago. I pondered idly if Jake was bi-polar, but quickly decided not when I was revealed the back cover between his fingers.
In messy scrawl it read :
Property of Jacob Black
Tab Songs - 2008
He wrote songs. Poetry in it's most basic form. I was shocked. Jacob was....an analytical? I hardly thought of him as the brooding poet type. The label read Tab Songs. I knew tabs were pieces of self-written music..Usually guitar. It was then that I noticed the glossy red and black electric one in the corner, leaning against the wall alongside its oak acoustic companion. The careless werewolf teenager I once knew has all of a sudden transformed into a song writing guitarist who was very protective of his works. Jacob Black took on a whole new meaning. Maybe I wasn't the only one with secrets.