A/N: I own no part of the Twilight Saga. Also, Sydney beta'd this chapter. Thank you, sis.

V.

i'm just apart and need my space and
time to myself, ventilation
no time for you, i lack the patience

Leah's first winter without Paul's presence was the coldest, quietest winter she had ever lived through.

She still played basketball. It was one of the last things she truly enjoyed, but she knew she didn't have to mourn over Paul as much as she could. Being without him was going to suck, but he was the comeback kid. He always returned. And she knew he was trying—he always did. That stupid, romantic sense of optimism was what helped her the most, besides his phone calls.

He called her—twice. The first time was at Thanksgiving to tell her he was in a juvenile detention center (again) in Sequim, and the second time was at Christmas to tell her he was in Tacoma, living with his mom. He apologized for not calling on her birthday—he swore to her that he tried, but couldn't.

Because of his father's history of abuse, Paul had no choice but to live with his mom now. He was learning more Spanish and spending more time with family. On the other side of Puget Sound, he had more family than ever. It was all for the better, he promised, but Leah selfishly wished his mom lived here. She wished even more that Paul's father was dead, after all that Paul had been through.

After Christmas, Paul stopped calling Leah. To her, it was whatever. He had things to do, and so did she. She convinced herself that as long as he wasn't dead, they would be okay. He would always come back.

Despite this being one of the worst winters Leah ever experienced, she played her best basketball season to date. Game after game, she killed and killed, leading her high school team to victory. With her five-foot-eight frame, she was a power forward (or a center, depending who was on the court with her), and she killed it every time. Nobody had ever thought the post player (and a sophomore on the varsity team, no less) would be the one to lead, but there were a lot of surprises in her life at this point. Lightning Leah was pure magic; nobody could deny it. Harry even kept his promise and made it to her games—almost all of them.

On break from her school team and during a Seattle tournament in January with the select team she had been with for three years, Leah was scouted by a friend of a coach at the University of Pennsylvania. Even as a sophomore, Leah had been looking into UPenn with starry eyes; it was an Ivy League, expensive as hell, and all the way in Philadelphia. She had done all that she could, put videos of her performance up, and tried to contact people, but she had decided that she would stick to more local goals.

But that day in Seattle, after one of her games, Leah was approached by a tall blonde lady. She had asked if she was Leah Clearwater, and if she was interested in going to UPenn after graduation. Leah had expressed her interest (many times), and she and the lady (Carol was her name) got in touch. Carol knew the head girls' basketball coach at UPenn.

A week later, Leah was offered a full-ride sports scholarship to UPenn under a couple of conditions: she kept her grades up, kept playing basketball well, and didn't get any serious injuries.

Leah was going to live out her fucking dreams.

She just wished she had somebody to celebrate with, but all of her best friends were too far gone.

Leah was met with multiple congratulations once word of her scholarship got out via Sue. Leah was "setting the new standard" and "giving these reservation kids some hope." Leah was an idol. She was the new savior of the badlands, the savior everyone deserved. And even though she was at the top, she got lonely. That feeling had always been with her, and she wasn't proud to admit that.

Because the girls' and boys' basketball seasons went for the same amount of time, she would go to the boys' games as long as they didn't interfere with her own practice or games. It was easy to go and slip in with an acquaintance or another teammate as if she had a purpose.

The Friday after she got her scholarship to UPenn, she went to the big home game against Forks High School's rival, the Montesano Bulldogs. Leah hadn't really known of the magnitude of this game—the varsity girls weren't even playing in it, so she hadn't found the time to care. But apparently, it was a big deal. Everyone on the home side in the bleachers was decked out in blue and gold. For this game, they brought out the marching band, the cheerleaders, and some dorky kid dressed up as the Spartan mascot. Leah didn't even know they had a mascot costume guy. It was a pretty big fucking deal.

Leah, clad in a simple school sweatshirt, blue jeans, and what she called Converse, sat in the bleachers next to her teammate, Krystal, a shooting guard. Krystal had some blue and gold sort of string in her caramel-colored hair, a gold tutu on over blue leggings, and her pink cheeks decorated with blue and gold lines under her green eyes. She was the true vision of school spirit, and she was also turned to her left, in an engaging conversation with somebody else. Leah just watched the game like she really cared.

That Friday night, Leah remembered why she didn't like to watch boys' basketball, especially varsity: it was just so cheesy to her. The boys didn't showcase much skill; they just heavily relied on gimmicks and quick moves and turns that would wow the crowd. They also weren't too keen on teamwork or communication, which led to plenty of fouls and anger and confusion. The boys' coach was fuming on the floor, yelling at the players, the referees, and the other coach. To Leah, it all looked like a train wreck, but to everyone else, it was fun. It was the Spartan experience.

She especially watched the center on the floor, Tom Anderson, a junior. He played the same position as her (roughly), so she couldn't help but compare. He wasn't quick like her or at all light on his feet, despite being more lanky than muscular, but he was a brute on the floor. He fouled more than anyone else on the court, but he was kept in because he was the son of the sports administrator, Mr. Anderson. So of course, Tom had even more privilege as if he needed it, being a straight, white male and all.

Krystal turned to Leah. "Do you see Tom?" she asked excitedly. "Isn't he awesome?"

Leah scrunched up her nose. For someone who plays varsity basketball, you sure don't know what all the positions are supposed to play like. Typical shooting guard.

"He's okay," Leah said. "I just wish the coach would take him out. He's fouling on everybody on the court."

Halftime couldn't come slower, but it finally did. Leah considered going home, but then she remembered that Krystal was her ride. She stayed seated in the bleachers, and the cheerleaders started their halftime show. It was mediocre, at best. Leah knew that Kim hadn't come up with the routine; she would have been front and center, and there would have been way better music. Leah now felt bad about not wishing Kim a happy birthday back in December.

Leah and Kim locked eyes at one point, but neither of them waved to the other girl. If Leah hadn't already been cold, then she froze that night. She and Kim really were over. She didn't want to believe that her best friend had broken her heart like that, but she did. Paul hadn't had a choice, but Kim did, and she had chosen to break Leah. Leah had always put their love first, but Kim had chosen not to love Leah at all.

Kim's pride got in the way, just like Leah always thought it would.

After the game (which, surprisingly, the Spartans won), Krystal went to the bathroom and Leah effectively lost her. Leah wandered back to the gym, hoping to find her—or anyone—just so she could get a ride home, and she found Tom Anderson instead. He was standing near the doorway, talking with three of his teammates, and when he saw Leah, he tried to drape his arm around her like they were even remotely close.

She pulled away from him and sneered. "Move," she said. Tom's friends laughed.

"Oh, c'mon, Ivy League," he told her. "Chill."

She looked up at him. He had green-blue eyes and chocolate brown hair and a tan that almost convinced her that he wasn't white. If she hated herself enough, she might like him based on his looks alone, but she knew better than to ignore his swine-like personality.

"I bet you don't even know my name," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Clearwater, quit being salty," he told her. "We won, you're going to an Ivy League school… this is a good night for all of us. Celebrate with us."

"No, thanks."

"Then can you tell me where Kim is?"

"I have no clue," Leah said, "but she has a boyfriend that'll rip your balls off if you even attempt to fuck with her."

"Shit, sorry," Tom said, backing away with his hands up.

She pushed through him and his friends, but in the post-game crowd, she couldn't recognize anybody. So she went near the school exit and sat at the bench, waiting until she saw somebody she knew leaving so she could ask for a ride. It didn't work. Either she was being ignored, or everybody she knew was gone.

She continued to wait, though, until none other than Tom approached her. "You still here, Clearwater?"

Why do white boys call people only by their last name? she wondered. "It's Leah," she told him. "Get it right next time."

"Sorry, Leah," he said, sitting down next to her on the bench.

"Why are you still here?" she asked him. "Everyone's gone."

"You're not gone," he reminded her.

"I'm waiting for my ride," she lied.

"Well, I'm here now."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't you have some party out on the rez to be getting fucked up at?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not until tomorrow night," he replied. Then he smiled like he really was some clever kind of man.

She didn't smile back. "What do you want from me?" she asked. "I'm really not in the mood for your games."

"I'm not trying to play games," he said. "Promise. I just wanna take you home."

"What do you want from me?" she repeated.

"Nothing but your time and company."

She looked out the doors of the school. It was pitch black outside, and she could only see one car in the student parking lot.

She stood up. "Let's go, then."

"So, you're officially gonna go to UPenn in a couple years?" he asked her, pulling out of the Forks High School parking lot.

"Mm-hmm," she said. "Miracle, right?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you going after graduation?" she asked.

"I'm planning on going to Stanford," he replied, "but I haven't gotten any early admissions or anything."

"You've still got a year," she said. "You're a junior, right?"

He nodded, his eyes out on the empty road. "Yup. By the way, where do you live?"

"On the rez. Get to La Push and I'll tell you from there."

The remaining twenty minutes were silent as they drove through the emptiness that was Forks. She didn't know Tom, and she didn't want him to know anything else about her.

When he arrived at her house, he stopped the car and looked over at her. She had already unbuckled her seat belt and grabbed her gym bag from the backseat. "Hey," he called to her as she started to climb out of the car.

"Yeah?"

"Have a good night."

"You, too," she said curtly. She shut the door and went back to her house.

Their relationship could best be described as unexpected.

Tom was really feeling her vibe; the mean-Native-girl-who-was-a-beast-at-basketball look was really hot on her. Leah was really feeling his vibe, too; now she had things to do and places to be. She didn't have to be alone with her thoughts anymore. He was corny, but he abstained from being blatantly offensive or annoying to her. He liked to hang out with her, and most importantly, he didn't get on her nerves. It was a win-win situation.

The next day, Saturday, Tom asked Leah out and they went to a movie in Port Angeles. It had been her first time there since she went with Paul in October, and she tried not to think about it, tried not to think about Paul's whereabouts, and tried not to think of what he would think of her and Tom. The date was kind of awkward but mostly cute. Tom found her beautiful—not in an exotic kind of way, but because she truly was beautiful, and he told her that. She appreciated all of his compliments; they made her feel loved, even in a fabricated sort of way.

On Sunday, Tom didn't call her; she didn't care. Monday, after her game, he brought her flowers and hugged her in front of everybody, and she started to care. Tuesday, after his game, he kissed her in front of everybody, and she never thought her first kiss would happen like that, especially with a boy like Tom. Wednesday, they didn't even talk. Thursday, she gave him a blowjob in his car after her practice because he wanted her to. Friday, he took her out with his friends to a party out in the woods, on the opposite side of Forks from Kim. The experience was tortuously mind-numbing and slightly racist, so she vowed to never go out with him and his friends again. Saturday and Sunday, she blew him again because she wanted to, but she also thought of Paul. The next Monday, he didn't call her, and the following Tuesday night after they both had practice, they went for a long drive in his car and then stopped in the middle of nowhere to "talk." They actually had sex—really awkward, ugly, stupid sex—and she realized she didn't even remotely like him.

Uninspired, unsatisfied, and terribly (yet unsurprisingly) empty, Leah pursed her lips and zipped up her jeans. Tom held onto her, though, warm and full and satisfied. He rubbed her back and said some romantic shit, like how he loved her more than anything. Amazing, she thought. A boy gets some pussy and suddenly he's on top of the world.

The thing about Tom, though, was that Leah had once thought he was smart, but it turned out he was quite the opposite; his core curriculum grades, set up for admission to Stanford, didn't match up with his common sense. It turned out he was just another stupid white boy. Typical. She found this out as he held her, ruffling her long, beautiful hair. In the dead of winter, when everything was still and not very good but not very bad, Tom made everything worse. Every last bit of it.

"Can I call you my Pocahontas?" he asked.

So she was used to this shit. She was used to stupid white boy sayings, used to the Native stereotypes of her being either a red princess or a nasty squaw. (Tom's friends were the most recent culprits.) She was used to explaining, too, and utilizing her words to get people to understand. It was the only damn thing she was patient with when it came down to explaining things.

But she couldn't explain forever, and sparing this stupid boy's feelings was definitely not going to last forever.

So Leah turned and slapped Tom so hard in the head that she could bet that his land-stealing ancestors felt it. She had slapped the shit out of that stupid white boy.

"I'm not," she told him, "going to explain myself again. You cannot call me your goddamn Pocahontas."

Tom didn't say anything; hopefully Leah slapped the words out of him, too.

She wiped her mouth and sat up to push open the door to the backseat. As she grabbed her bag and started to climb out of his car, Tom had the audacity to sit up, scoot over, and grab her arm. "Wait," he said.

Fuming, she impatiently asked, "What?" Her breath was visible in the frozen air.

His voice was sweet. "Call me sometime?"

She shrugged away from his grasp. "Don't hold your breath." She got out of the car and started to walk away with her arms crossed to preserve heat.

"Wait, Leah," he called again, getting out of his car to follow her. He slammed the back door shut.

She whipped her head around. "What the fuck do you want?!" she exclaimed.

"I wanna take you home." His voice was sweet.

"I'm, like, two miles away from my house. I'll be fine." Her teeth chattered pathetically.

"It's January," he said with the sweetness in his voice completely gone as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his thin Adidas jacket. "Get in the goddamn car unless you wanna freeze your ass off."

"I'd rather freeze," she replied, turning around again.

Wordless, Tom went back into his car and skidded off, tires screeching as he zoomed past Leah and was soon out of sight.

She'd lied; she didn't know how far away she was from her house. She was on the outskirts of Forks, which were basically the outer parts of the middle of absolutely nowhere. She was out in the sticks, the boonies. Inevitably, the badlands. Passing through here during the day was different than being enveloped here in the night. She could get raped, shot, and killed tonight, and her body wouldn't be found for days, or maybe weeks, seeing how Native women kept going missing. The closest residential area was probably miles away, and it would be in Kim's part of town with the worst kind of people. Those people had no mercy for people like Leah.

Without a phone or hope, Leah was afraid she would keep her promise to Tom. She was gonna freeze to death, but she didn't want him to have the satisfaction of being right.

She walked in the middle of the road to nowhere in particular.

With the football season over and no Jared to be found in her proximity unless he wanted something, Kim felt more and more like spending her nights alone. It gave her time and room to grow, as she liked to believe. She grew as her eyes did, and tonight, her eyes were as big as the moon.

Kim's running shoes pounded against the frozen dirt, and it was now that she decided that this was the best time to be high. She had popped pills at nine-thirty, and after three and a half hours, she was still going strong.

Get high, stay high.

She couldn't get overheated in the dead of winter, and the nights were longer, which allowed her to work.

Work, work, work, work.

Work on cheers, work on flexibility, and work on conditioning on empty nights like this. That was what she needed. She didn't need sleep. She had too much pep to sleep—what people thought about cheerleaders was true. There were too many things to work on, places to be, and things to do. Sleep was for the weak.

Blasting some mixtape Jared had made her for her birthday last month, she ran right over her doubts. She was getting better and better, faster and faster. She had never felt more free.

As she ran in whatever direction, she saw somebody walking right in the middle of the street, in the opposite direction. It was actually more like they were dragging their feet instead of walking. If Kim was more skeptical, she would have thought they were a zombie. As she approached the person, she took out one of her ear buds and slowed down. They looked lost. They also looked like…

Leah.

Kim ran towards her. "Lee!" she called.

Leah's eyes were glassed over and nearly shut, and she walked so slow that Kim was convinced she was about to drop dead.

"Lee!" Kim called again.

It was like Leah couldn't even see her.

Once Kim was close enough, she wrapped her arms around Leah. Leah was nearly shocked at how warm Kim was for a January night, and began to collapse in her arms, dropping her gym bag to the floor.

"Kim?" Leah asked, her lips still chattering.

"Lee, it's me," Kim said. "What the hell are you doing out here? It's—"—she checked her cell phone—"it's one in the morning, on a school night."

"Just take me home," Leah said. "I'll tell you when we get home."

The second the girls were in Kim's bedroom in her big house in the sticks, Leah collapsed onto Kim's soft bed and exhaled as she slipped her sandals off. "This has been the worst fucking night ever," she said.

"Nuh-uh-uh," Kim said. "You need to get warm first. I'm gonna start a hot shower for you, okay?"

"Okay," Leah moaned.

Kim hurried to her bathroom, connected to her bedroom, and quickly turned on the shower. Leah was freezing—it was like she had absolutely no warmth in her body. Kim was one to overreact during times like this, but she cared for Leah—a lot. Even when she had so quickly ditched and forgotten about her once cheer and Jared and other time-consuming substances became her new best friends. Even if Leah didn't believe they were still friends at all. Even then.

She went back to her room. "Hey," Kim called to Leah, her voice shrill. "The shower's ready. You know where the towels and your clothes are, right?"

Leah nodded and got up. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Thank you."

As Leah took a shower, Kim cleaned herself up a bit by wiping down her face with a towel and slipping off her running shoes, but couldn't do anything to stop her high. She ground her teeth, continued to sweat, and felt all the chills in the world. Her mouth was dry, and as she gulped down water, she only found herself feeling sick. She then tried to sit, but that was nearly impossible.

Leah was throwing off Kim's nightly episode of What Can I Accomplish While I'm High? The past week, Kim had come up with four new cheer routines and three new dances just for herself. She was into pushing herself, seeing how much she could stretch and mold herself. Get high, stay high. Molly was a beautiful thing when she wasn't shaking because of it. When Kim was alone, Molly made Kim strong and peppy and proud. (Except when Kim ended up crashing in third period nearly every day.)

Leah was done with her shower soon enough, and she didn't find Kim sitting still when she returned. Instead, Kim was doing kicks and jumps and whatever it was that cheerleaders did in front of the longest wall of her bedroom, which was mostly just a mirror. The greatest possible gift for Kim, a dancer, a cheerleader, an artist: a way to fully judge herself, as if she needed to judge herself more.

That was the difference between them: Leah was good at what she did and everyone knew it (including Leah), whereas Kim was good (actually amazing) at what she did and everyone knew it, but she couldn't see it herself. That was why Kim had more work ethic than almost anyone else in school, in town, or in the state: she could always find improvement. It wasn't easy, though; Kim was frequently told she was amazing, but never by the one person she needed to hear it from, the one person who she had once tried to impress more than anything, except he'd told her that cheerleading wasn't a sport. Jared was nothing more than a bigot, and he wasn't really around anymore.

Jared used to be her drug supplier—at first it was weed, but once Quil got sent away, she wasn't into it anymore. She needed something to get higher, not lower, and ecstasy was it. Jared wasn't into ecstasy, though, so he stopped supplying it and went back to what he knew. Kim found other ways to get it around town. All the pretty girls used it on a weekly basis. She knew that because she frequented with them the most. She had always been fond of other girls and being comfortable in their presence. Now it was practically her culture; pretty girls and cheer and ecstasy went together like the best of friends, especially since Kim didn't have any, but she had too much pride to let Leah be right again.

Kim didn't need Jared's approval, after all. She also didn't need Leah to have the benefit of being right about him. She needed to get better, and she needed to work. All her jumping around was sort of making Leah queasy, though.

"Chill, Bambi," Leah said, emerging from the bathroom in an ensemble of pajama bottoms and a youth basketball shirt she permanently left at Kim's house for emergencies like this.

"Oh, sorry," Kim said, turning around. "I didn't even see you there."

Leah yawned and sat on Kim's queen-sized bed. She laid her head to a mint-colored pillow case and wondered why Kim had redone her room's color scheme in the past year. Royal purple was way nicer than mint. Mint didn't have enough character, and Kim had a lot of it. It was insulting.

"So what happened?" Kim asked, laying down next to Leah.

"Do you know Tom?" Leah asked.

"Tom Anderson, the guy you're dating all of a sudden?"

Leah ignored Kim's prying tone. "Yeah."

"Well, what about him?"

"He fucked me."

"Are you—?"

"Actually, he came, so technically, I fucked him," Leah clarified.

Kim's eyes widened. "Jesus."

"Yeah."

"Well, what was it like? Did it…?"

"God, it was uncomfortable as hell. Kim, never fuck a boy who doesn't know or love or respect you—please. It was so stupid and he's so stupid and I hate him."

(Kim didn't know anything about fucking any boys because Jared still refused even though she clearly expressed how bad she wanted him until he made her feel horrible about herself.)

"He doesn't even respect you?" Kim demanded.

"Not even a little bit," Leah said, tears forming in her eyes not because she was sad, but because she was exhausted.

"You know what he said to me?" Leah wiped her eyes. "He was like, 'Can I call you my Pocahontas?'"

"Stupid fuck," Kim commented.

"I know."

"What'd you do?"

"I slapped him upside the head."

"Good. So why are you upset?"

"I don't know," Leah replied. "I just feel like I've been picking them—boys, the male specimen—all wrong." She thought of Paul, and how her mom always said he was trouble. He was a prime example of Leah's poor taste in men, but she shut him out. She couldn't afford to cry over him tonight.

"And, like," she continued, "I gave up my pussy to Tom. He was the most wrong of the wrong, and now he gets to walk around and say, 'I fucked Leah Clearwater.' How the fuck is that fair?"

"It's not."

"It's not," Leah repeated. "It's stupid. Tom ain't shit. His dick is like a pencil and he came in thirty seconds and now he can go on and pretend like the shit was good. Boys ain't shit, Kim, and I'm tired of them."

"I feel you. I've been tired since the beginning of my interaction with them."

"Have you gotten tired of Jared yet?" Leah wondered. "I'm just asking."

Kim stared up at the ceiling. "I guess he got tired of me."

"Why do you say that?"

"We haven't hung out in about…hmm…twenty years."

"Shut up."

"He's just being annoying right now," Kim said. "He'll get over it. He's probably going through a lot right now and I'm not helping."

"Quit making excuses for him," Leah said sternly. "You have to know your own worth and stop invalidating it for his sake."

"Thanks, Lee," Kim said like she was trying to shut her up. Kim was so stubborn sometimes—nobody could tell her anything. That quality the both of them shared was what annoyed Leah the most, and reminded her why didn't like Kim sometimes.

"I'm just saying, Kim," Leah went on, "you're fucking radiant. Don't let him try to diminish that just 'cause he's realizing he's inadequate."

"Thanks so much," Kim said sincerely. "I really needed that."

"Of course. And thanks for letting me sleep over," Leah added. "I don't think I was gonna make it home."

"You're welcome. Remind me to jump him after school tomorrow."

"Not tomorrow," Leah said. "The day after. I don't think I'm going tomorrow."

"You're Ivy League-bound. You should go to school tomorrow."

"You know about that?"

"Yeah, me and the rest of the county."

Instead of fighting Kim, she pulled the mint cover over herself. "Alright. Goodnight, Kim."

"Night."

Kim turned off the lamp and also got in the mint cover, but she wasn't tired. Leah's arm ended up near Kim's wrist, but Kim's pulse was still racing, and she was abnormally warm.

"Do you have a fever?" Leah asked.

"No," Kim quickly said. "Why?"

"You either have a fever or you're not in shape, because your heart's going a hundred miles a minute and you're burning up."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I'm kind of high right now," Kim admitted.

"High off what?"

"Pills. Ecstasy pills."

"Oh, god," Leah groaned.

"It's always been really hard for me to sleep," Kim reminded her. "You know that."

"Popping pills is just gonna make that worse, but whatever. Just don't keep me up. I'm Ivy League-bound, remember?"

"Of course, Lee."

"Thanks, Bambi."

Leah fell asleep and Kim followed after coming down an hour later. For the night, it was almost like they hadn't abandoned each other.

A/N: Thank you for reading. I'll try not to put so much time between my updates.

Feedback is always appreciated,

HS