MR. BRIGHTSIDE

WE DIDN'T TALK ABOUT THAT FIRST WEEK. I kept waiting for her to just snap out of it, but that never happened. Charlie and I both stayed home all week long, neither of us daring to take our eyes off of her for even a second. Dr. Gerandy was throwing around words like 'catatonic', but we were too scared to let him drive over to see her again. It could've triggered her into doing something worse. She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't drink, she wouldn't move.

It was my idea to get Renée to fly over. I was so sure it would work, that Bella just needed her. She needed laughter. She needed the sun. She needed someone to cry to, and she didn't want that someone to be me so it had to be our mother. But it didn't work, and that was a little more frightening. I'd expected her to snap out of it the minute she saw her. No one ever made Bella light up the way our mother did. It wasn't until hours later, when we started packing her clothes for Jacksonville, that she woke with a vengeance. I'd never seen my sister like that before. She threw her clothes everywhere and screamed that we couldn't make her leave—and then she finally started crying. I thought that was the end of it all. I was wrong.

It was October now, the tree line dotted with vivid oranges, yellows and browns between the evergreens. I had to rake the lawn twice a day to keep up with the shedding. It was the only chore I was still allowed.

Bella wanted to do everything. All the cooking, all the cleaning, all the laundry. There was something mechanical about her now. An empty shell who worked diligently through all the motions of pretending to be a perfectly functional human being. She ran on a clockwork routine. She was back at school, she took on more shifts at the Newton's store, she ate and slept and did her homework. She only ever spoke when someone spoke to her first, and it was usually short answers, but she was there at least.

The gifts were gone. I'd noticed the morning after they left. Every picture, every trace, gone. The only proof I had that the Cullens had ever existed was my locket. I remembered what Rosalie said. It was supposed to be a family heirloom one day. I'd gotten into a habit of fiddling with it whenever I was thinking hard enough, my thumb tracing over the etched letters on the back. I still hadn't found any pictures to put inside it.

It was October now, and I'd just gotten back from seeing The Killers in Seattle with Jess, Lauren and Conner. It was the first night I'd gotten to spend at the cabin in over a month. Adam had finished the bathroom at long last, a relief, because we used to have to go behind a bush in the forest. It was nice to have running water that wasn't freezing cold in a bucket. I returned form changing into my pajamas, dropping back against his side on the singular couch by the fire. He'd gotten a cheap, brick TV—we didn't have cable. We did have his Playstation 2 though, and Adam was distracted playing Silent Hill 4. I groaned low, settling in better as he lifted his arm, still aggressively jamming his thumb over buttons as he let me in against his chest. "Tired?"

"Exhausted." I hum, fiddling with my damp hair. "I need to cut my hair again."

"You said you were growing it out." He remembered.

"I always say I'm going to grow it out." I grumble sourly, because it's true. The fantasy was lush golden hair that fell to my waist, but I never had the patience for that. He curses under his breath, trying to fight some creepy two-headed thing. It was hard to see details, the TV screen was pretty grainy. "The hell kind of game is this?"

"Fun." His answer made me snort. "You could just stay here, you know."

"I'm just tired from the concert babe." I mumble.

"No, you're tired from babysitting your basket case sister." He grumbled. "Like, yeah, okay, your boyfriend dumped you. Big whoop. There's no way Cullen was that special."

I lean my head back so I can look at his eyes. "Would you be sad if I dumped you?"

"I mean, it'd suck." He shrugged, but I could see the panic drift across his eyes. I grinned, pleased, reaching up to pull his head down to kiss me upside down. "Mm, okay maybe I'd miss you a little."

"You better." I snort, turning my attention back to the gory scenes on the TV.

"Would you be like your sister?" Adam asks after a minute.

"No." I answer easily, and then hesitate, the guilt nagging at me. "I didn't know a person could be like this."

"She'll snap out of it." Adam repeats what he always does to reassure me. "No thinking about that anymore tonight, okay?"

"Can we put on a movie?" I look up into his eyes pleadingly. His expression faltered, but he could see how drained I really was. He nods, pausing his game.

I dropped Adam off at work the next morning. It seemed like the start to a normal day. He was running a little late, we'd gotten distracted after his alarm woke us up. He was disheveled, kissing me goodbye while I tucked his shirt back into his pants for him, grinning and laughing as he ran for the steps into the ranger station. I knew he was going to get into trouble for that.

I drove straight to school after. It wasn't raining for once, but there was a really bad, frigid wind that I liked a lot less. I drove to work after I got out of Trigonometry at the end of the day, still needing to catch up on all the shifts I missed that first week with Bella. I was doing some welding work on a bumper when Rick told me there was a call for me. I panicked like I had every time I got a call at work. I always thought the worst, my mind shooting straight for my sister.

"Hello?" I asked, a little breathless with concern.

"Gracie?" I frowned. Mr. Wexler had never called me. "I uh, I tried the house first. Is Adam with you?"

"No?" I'm very confused. "I dropped him off at work this morning." I glanced at the clock. "I'm supposed to pick him up in a half hour."

"Well, the ranger station called. He never showed, apparently."

"That's impossible. I watched him walk through the door." I'm growing scared. "He was a little late, I dropped him off around twelve past seven maybe. No one saw him?"

"Really?" He sounds scared too. "No, no one's seen him all day."

"Maybe they weren't in. Maybe he went out to check his trails." My mind races. "Um, okay, I'll go drive up there now, see what's going on, okay?"

"I'll drive up to the cabin. Maybe he wasn't feeling well, maybe one of his friends gave him a lift back." Mr. Wexler reasoned. "You give me a call there when you get to the station, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I will. I'll call my Dad too, just in case." I assure him. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, Mr. Wexler."

But by nightfall, I'm going through a familiar scene. Red and blue flashing lights, dozens of people, barking German Shepherds on leashes. It was harder this time. There was so much ground to cover. We each had neon orange whistles to get each other's attention, but we were spread out far enough I couldn't see anybody, stumbling through the dark with a massive steel flashlight. I didn't like how this was going. I thought the whole thing was to walk in lines within view of each other, like the movies, but apparently we'd cover more ground this way. In the distance I could hear Mr. Stanley shouting Adam's name in regular intervals.

I couldn't believe this was happening again. My mind was blank. I just kept picturing him jumping out from behind a tree and laughing when he scared me. Telling me he'd just taken a nap or gotten lost. He should've never taken this stupid job, Adam was never going to be outdoorsy enough to be a Ranger. I was going to give him an earful for scaring me like this when I got my hands on him.

I must have been walking for hours. The voices were distant now, I couldn't see any other lights except my own. I was getting tired, and cold, wrapping his jacket closer around me with my free frozen fist shoved deep into the left pocket. There was a hole in the seam, I kept fiddling with it. Over the course of this evening that hole had gotten progressively bigger, until I could fit my entire fingertip through.

Ahead of me was a ridge. I could hear rushing water somewhere close. In the darkness beyond reach of my flashlight, I could see a big lumpy form. It took a few minutes for me to reach it; a large rock outcrop over the line where the ground fell away into pitch darkness. I figured maybe I could get a better view from up there, find someone else with a flashlight.

It was hard enough to climb what seemed like a half-buried giant boulder in broad daylight, but the challenge was definitely doubled close to midnight when my brain function was half spent on worrying over my lost boyfriend. If it weren't for my jeans I would've scraped my knees, but the palms of my hands didn't survive. I was glad there were no vampires around for that to be a problem anymore.

Finally, I reached the peak. My breath was coming out in frosty clouds in front of me, caught in the light of my own flashlight as I managed to swing it in my effort to steady my balance, temporarily blinding myself. I winced, bringing it down away from my face, blinking away spots in the dark.

Then I saw it.

I froze almost immediately, eyes locked wide. The end of the powerful white beam the heavy, numbingly cold flashlight produced ended just behind it's hind legs, but I could see it. It was huge and pitch black and too shaggy for a bear. Enormous, I realized, as I took in the distance from me and how it was crouched down over something. It was as tall as a horse, but thicker, much more muscular. The legs were long, familiar. Low grisly snarls and growls came from toward the front, where it seemed to be eating something. If it weren't for the rushing Quillayute River ahead of it, I probably would've heard the beast much sooner. Those inhuman sounds were as loud as the rumble of thunder.

I thought it was some kind of mutated bear. Some abomination, but natural. What else could be so vast, so powerfully built? But then, it turned, something in it's elongated muzzle. Too long for a bear. Those teeth were as large as daggers, they glinted in the light even from this far. For a singular, terrifying moment, I was caught in it's gaze. The eye I could see was dark, nearly as black as it's coat. That deep gaze seemed too intelligent for a wild animal.

But then I saw what was in it's maw. And I screamed.

"...and she's the one who found him? Jeez."

"I know."

"He was in pieces, Charlie. Torn apart."

"I know."

"You know we're gonna have to bring her in to the station. It's protocol."

"Not tonight." I was starting to recognize the voices I could hear, muffled through something. I was confused. There was a familiar, mechanical beeping near my ear, and something was cuffed tight around my bicep. I was all fuzzy and slow. What was going on? Why couldn't I open my eyes? "No, it's been too much tonight."

"Dad?"

There was the sound of scrambling as I finally managed to open my eyes. My vision was blurry, I was a little confused. My shoulder hurt really, really bad. Charlie was in front of me, his big hands helping me upright long before I even realized I was trying to get vertical again. I was sat in a gurney inside an open ambulance. "Hey, hey, easy."

I was grateful for the plastic bottle of water he handed me, my throat ached something awful. I felt like shit. My head hurt and my nose burned and my whole body was sore. But my shoulder really hurt. I rolled it, wincing. "Jesus, what—"

And then I remembered. My face must have shown my horror, because Charlie was quick to pull me into a hug. "Hey no, shhh, shh, it's gonna be all right."

"Get off—no, where's Mr. Wexler? I have to tell Mr. Wex—"

"He knows." Charlie cut me off, a little concerned by how aware I was. "He's already called the older son, he's getting the first flight out from LA."

"It was a—" I couldn't say wolf. There was no way they were going to believe a wolf could do that. I knew real wolves didn't get that big. "It was an animal."

"You saw it?" He frowns, backing up. Deputy Mark climbs into the small space too, head bent low under the roof. He was already pulling a notebook out.

"I lost sight of everybody so I figured I'd climb this huge rock thing and get a higher vantage point, try and find a light. Do some flash signals or something. But I saw this big... thing instead. It was black and really hairy and like a bear, but I didn't know bears got that big. I mean, I didn't get a good look, it was too far away, but it had—it had—it had his leg—" I was choking now, my rushed word vomit breaking into sobs at last.

"Shhh, honey, shhh." Charlie comforted me, sitting beside me on the gurney with an arm steady around me. I leaned against him, feeling the blood pressure cuff tighten automatically around my arm. "What you saw tonight ain't gonna go away any time soon, it's okay. Let it out. I'm sorry."

"W-wh-why did he have t-to b-be a f-fucking ranger?" I wept wretchedly, hiccuping over my words. The devastation hit me like a bullet train.

Adam Wexler died on October the 16th, 2005.

His funeral was the next afternoon. The Wexlers didn't like the idea of leaving him in the morgue. It was closed casket, and the entire town showed up even if he had never been anybody's favorite. I hadn't slept a wink for what few hours remained of that terrible night, but I was sure I wasn't the only one.

I only owned the one black dress, and it was hardly appropriate for a funeral. I made up for the short skirt and backless halter wearing his leather jacket. I hadn't left Mr. Wexler alone all day, and in some way I understood he was doing the same for me. Sam didn't get there until an hour before the funeral with his fiancée Mirza.

"You're holding up better than I thought you would." Mr. Wexler's smile was weak, squeezing my shoulder. His voice was soft. We'd been greeting and thanking everyone who showed up at the funeral home. "Thank you, for being here for my son."

"I think I'm still in shock." I confess honestly. I just felt numb. I was struggling to understand that he was gone. To feel that he was.

"He loved you." He tells me as if I hadn't heard it from Adam at least once a week. I know it's supposed to hit me hard, but I don't feel a thing. "I've never seen my son like that, not 'til you came along. He was ready to build a whole life with you."

That hit me. "Excuse me, sorry."

I didn't want everyone to see me crying. I ignored all the staring and the hushed, rushing voices as I swept past, quickly making an exit out the door to the funeral home, gasping for air. I was already armed with tissues, stuffed into both pockets just in case. I was delicate about it, doing my best not to ruin my half-hearted attempt at mascara.

Paul Lahote slams the door to an old Datsun in front of me, eyebrows furrowed, already jogging over to close the distance. It didn't matter that I hadn't seen him in forever. That he'd rudely and abruptly ended his years-long friendship with my dead boyfriend. I was desperate for him, letting him catch me in his strong arms as I crashed apart. I was as relieved as I was devastated. He rubbed my back, body trembling. "I'm sorry."

Long after the memorial service, I sat at the front row of the funeral pyre, Toby's arm over my shoulder and a damp tissue clutched for all it's worth in my fist. The oak was polished and shiny, a hideous array of white and yellow flowers over the top. Sam had picked the picture for the frame. It was from his graduation day. I'd taken it, his eyes pushed up with his cheesy grin, that same Iron Maiden t-shirt from the first day we met peeking through his shiny blue rented robes.

I waited until the room was nearly empty and the boys bid their farewells to finally gather the courage to walk up to that coffin. It felt wrong. I kept feeling like it was empty, like this was all nothing more than a nightmare. But I never did wake up.

"Hey." I sniff, giving the flowers a watery smile. I assumed that was where his head was, but I didn't like to imagine how the coroners got the pieces back together that quick. Maybe they'd cremated him, and there was nothing but ashes within the long wooden box. I didn't dare ask anybody. "Um, I don't really know what I'm supposed to say right now and I feel kinda dumb because I'm pretty sure you can't hear me. I mean, you didn't believe in that stuff either, right? This is hard."

I took a shuddering breath. "I'm starting to kinda hope there's somewhere nice to go after this. I want that, for you. I don't really believe you're gone. It doesn't feel like you are. None of this feels real. But you are gone, and I...I have to get through that, I guess."

"I'm sorry." I finish, lamely, barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"Gracie?" I finally snapped out of whatever stupor I was in after the funeral, Charlie guiding a very silent Bella to the Cruiser. "Where're you going?"

I hadn't realized I was heading for the Camaro. Mr. Wexler had given me the car keys, and the keys to the cabin. He was going to fly back to California with Sam and Mirza, decide what to do after that as a family. I'd promised him I'd look after his house and everything else while he was gone, but I had a feeling he wasn't coming back. I wouldn't.

"I'm gonna stay at the cabin tonight." I didn't realize I'd made that decision, but apparently I had. Charlie frowned at me. "I'll be fine, Dad. I just...I just need to be there, okay?"

I couldn't deal with Bella's nightmares, not tonight. I had to face my own. "Okay. Call me when you get there, and no going out into the woods."

"I promise. Good night."

It was exactly as we had left it. The smell of the trash we had never taken out the day before lingered in the stuffy, closed space, so I dealt with that first. Somehow that led to a full cleaning spree, and it didn't end until all I could smell was bleach and pine scented surface cleaner. I hadn't managed to exhaust myself like I wanted to, so I curled up on the couch with some cold pizza from the mini fridge, putting on the same movie we'd watched that final night. Shanghai Knights. For the first time in my life, not a single joke made me laugh.

Everything felt wrong. I wasn't lying against Adam's chest, listening to his fluttering heartbeat. I wasn't falling asleep on him like I usually did because of how warm he was. We weren't bickering over who was going to get up to get a beer from the fridge or put another wedge of wood in the burner. It was too quiet, except for the sound of the TV. But I couldn't bring myself to cry again. I wasn't comatose, like my sister, who hadn't even lost Edward that way. I still felt like myself. My world hadn't ended. What was wrong with me?

I felt guilty. My mind fled unwillingly back to the funeral, trying to hand over my set of keys to Mr. Wexler. His eyes were sad, but utterly present, folding my fingers back over the warmed metal. "No honey, keep 'em."

"He only wanted that dump so you two could move in together when you graduated." Sam chips in, a tearful and tiny Mirza rubbing his back. I'd never gotten to see Sam Wexler enough to bond with him much. He was almost a stranger to me, but he looked at me like family. "Keep it kid. I mean it. I'll put it under your name if you want."

"No, I don't think that's—"

"It's what Adam would've wanted." Mr. Wexler was crying again, still holding my hand. "Keep it, honey. Keep the car too. We'll talk again when I get back from California, okay?"

The tears didn't come again until hours later, drunk with a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey in my grip, sitting on the floor of the kitchen, which was really just a sink and the mini fridge. I was frustrated with myself for not being able to turn off my brain, to keep those images out. I leaned back against the log wall, banging my head back over and over again as if I'd be able to knock the sense out of me. But nothing worked. Not even the alcohol.

It did make me tired. It was already dawn when I made it to the mattress, dropping back. Adam's pillow still smelled like him, the faintest whiff of cologne and smoke. Drunk, I stumbled to the suitcases we lived out of. His bottle of cologne was in there, and I spritzed some all over one of his long sleeved shirts before changing into it, crawling under the quilt again. I fell asleep easily, cocooned by the smell of him.

I was prepared relive that traumatic night in my dreams, but the alcohol didn't take me to the rock. I was in a different set of woods. The smell was different, and the light, too. It smelled, not like the damp earth of the deep forest, but like the brine of the ocean. I couldn't see the sky; still, it seemed like the sun must be shining—the leaves above were bright jade green.

This was the forest closer to La Push than Mora Ranger Station. Near First Beach, where we'd gone more than once to look through the tide pools. I wanted to find the beach. I wanted to find the place Adam had first told me he loved me. I was half expecting to see him there, waiting for me. I hurried forward, following the faint sound of waves in the distance.

And then Paul Lahote was there. He grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.

"Paul? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was the frightened face of a boy, and his hair was beautiful again, swept back into a ponytail on the nape of his neck. He yanked with all his strength, but I resisted; I didn't want to go into the dark. The dark was where Adam died.

"Run, Gracie, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.

The abrupt wave of déjà vu was so strong it nearly woke me up.

I knew why I recognized this place now. It was because I'd been here before, in another dream. A million years ago, part of a different life entirely. This was the dream I'd had the night after Bella and I discovered the Cullens were vampires. Why was I dreaming of this again?

But then the dream shifted. The forest blurred. I was at my spot now, in the woods by Charlie's house, off-trail on the felled trunk where I first sat contemplating whether the Cullens could be vampires. Sam Uley walked past me, my sister in his arms, his modesty kept in torn jeans fashioned into shorts. It had been the middle of September, and it had rained, but he was bone dry and apparently warm enough to go travailing through the woods alone in just shorts to find my sister. Had he been barefoot that night? Was that just a part of my dream?

I heard my sister's voice as I watched his strong, muscle-packed back lumbering onward through the trees as if he had never even seen me. "Jacob said that the cold ones are the natural enemies of the werewolf. That's what the Quileutes believe they're descended from, so that's why they all hate the Cullens, because they think the Cullens are the Cold Ones. The same Cold Ones from their legends. He said Doctor Cullen made a treaty with Billy Black's grandfather."

Just as Sam's back was supposed to disappear out of view, he paused. He started shaking and twitching, and then he fell to the ground, dropping Bella harshly.

"No!" I screamed, but he was gone.

In his place was an enormous black figure, it's back turned to me. And as it turned to face me, I saw the same jean-clad leg in it's large maw.

I woke screaming at the top of my lungs.

The door to the bedroom was wide open, and the fire was still blazing in the wood burner beyond. I couldn't have been sleeping long. But I was drenched in sweat, and suddenly stone cold sober. There was something stuck in my throat, choking me. I tried to swallow it down, but it was lodged there, unmoving. I tried to spit it out.

"Werewolf." I gasped.

Yes, that was the word that I was choking on.

The whole world lurched, tilting the wrong way on its axis.

What kind of a place was this? Could a world really exist where ancient legends went wandering around the borders of tiny, insignificant towns, facing down mythical monsters? Did this mean every impossible fairy tale was grounded somewhere in absolute truth? Was there anything sane or normal at all, or was everything just magic and ghost stories? How the hell had I escaped vampires only to have to fall into werewolves?

And then the cold sense of horror hit me. Adam didn't die from an animal attack.

He was murdered.

I didn't sleep that night. I had too much to work through in my brain, too much reality to process. I waited for a half-decent hour to strike on the clock on the far wall above the fridge, before finally getting up off the couch. A quick shower, a quick change—I was a woman on a mission.

I was grateful I still remembered the road to Billy Black's house, at least for the most part, only taking one wrong turn along the way. I used to spend most of my summers here, with Rebecca and Rachel Black, who were only a year older than me and my own twin. We had initially bonded over that, before I'd begun to depend on my friendship with the girls since my sister enjoyed spending her summers sulking in our shared bedroom and I wanted to go outside and play. Sarah Black had been an angel long before she passed in a car crash. She'd bake us cookies despite a tiny weekly grocery budget, and somehow always find something new for us to play. She'd been the one to get me to play soccer for the first time with Rachel, borrowing a ball and a net from the local school. I hadn't talked to either Rachel or Rebecca since the funeral.

There was smoke coming out of a metal chimney pipe in the roof, and I assumed that meant they were awake. My fist thudded against the front door with angry energy; the sound reverberated through the walls. Jacob Black opened the door after a few minutes, confused. He was in just a pair of sweatpants, his gangly teen body more filled up than I expected it to be. "Gracie?"

"Morning Jake. Is your Dad in?"

"Yeah, we're making breakfast. Why don't you come on in?" Jacob was always reflexively kind, but I had a feeling he was pulling out the welcome wagon because of my fresh bereavement. I'd banked on that.

"Thanks Jake." I smile, patting his shoulder. He didn't believe in the stories he told my sister, I didn't think he could be in on it.

"Gracie." Billy Black was surprised to see me, but clearly happy. "Well, good morning. What brings you around to our neck of the woods?"

"Wolves." The singular word makes him freeze mid-flip of a pancake. We stare intensely at each other across the small family room and open kitchen, before he clears his throat.

"Jacob, we don't have enough eggs for Gracie. Why don't you go make a run down to the store and buy a half-dozen, okay?" Billy asks his son tensely, trying to keep up that light tone from before.

"What do you mean 'wolves'?" Jacob was confused, just like I'd expected.

"Son." Billy warned. Jacob rolled his eyes, huffing and moving down the tiny hallway off the front room. We waited in silence until Jacob reappeared again, wearing a grey hoodie to match his sweats, zipping on a jacket over it. The front door banged on his way out. "Why don't you sit down, Gracie?"

"I'd like to know why Sam Uley killed my boyfriend." I cut right to the chase, sitting on the couch while Billy wheeled himself around.

"He didn't."

I frowned. "I saw—"

"You saw Sam trying to get rid of the body. Your boyfriend was dead the minute the vampire bit him and left him to turn." Billy's words made me freeze with horror. He was too calm and sad to be covering up for him. "How did you know it was Sam?"

"He found Bella." I shake off quickly, but apparently too quickly. "He found her in shorts, Billy. Your son told my sister all about how the Quileutes are descended from werewolves, and that's why you hate the Cullens. After I saw the giant horse-sized wolf it didn't take me long to put two and two together."

Actually it took about half a bottle of whiskey but we digress. "Sam will want to talk to you. Paul thinks the vampire'll return to Adam's cabin, track his scent to find the one she turned."

"Paul's a werewolf too?" I'm bewildered, before it slowly sinks in. The new friends Adam had talked about. Paul in the woods. His hair cut short like Sam's. The same dramatic body transformation. "How many of you are there?"

"Not enough, not yet." He's grim. Yet? "With the Cullens gone more of their kind are free to cut through here. It's not safe for anyone."

"He didn't need to kill Adam." My voice was soft now, hurt. Billy opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "He didn't. He could have drank from animals like the Cullens. I could've helped him."

"He would've killed you before you could blink." I knew in my heart that Billy was telling the truth. Rosalie never liked talking about her condition, but Emmett had told me what the first year was like. How the bloodlust was all you could think about when you were a newborn. How my sister would no longer be my sister after she got her wish. I shivered, glad that was over at least. But the danger was not gone. This was far worse.

"The vampire... has she been around?"

"I think you should talk to Sam." Billy repeats, eyes wary. "I'll go call him now and get him to come over. You'll stay for breakfast, won't you?"

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.