Apologies for the late upload, this is literally the first chance I've had to sit down and edit all weekend. Hopefully a slightly longer chapter makes up for it, I know the last one was pretty short.
Not much else to say today, except enjoy, and do let me know what you think - I love reading your reviews!
Glitterb x
Chapter 6: Friends
Once we had the bikes in Jules' garage, she went right to work taking them to pieces. I nearly asked how easy it would be to hide everything in a hurry until I realised it wouldn't be necessary; Bonnie's wheelchair would never make it over all the tree roots and hidden potholes out here. Seeing me hovering awkwardly with nowhere to sit, Jules swung the door of the Rabbit open and I perched gratefully on the front seat as she began chattering away unprompted about how things were going at school. She went to the reservation school, along with most of the other teens in La Push, so it was a whole new set of classes, teachers, and kids to the ones I was used to. She talked at particular length about her two best friends, a couple of boys who she'd known since they were all in diapers.
"Quil and Embry?" I wondered when she told me their names. "Those are… different."
Jules smirked. "Quil's an old Ateara family name, he's the fourth or fifth, I think. Pretty sure Embry got his from some soap star his mom had a crush on. But if you think you and your brother are bad about your names, you've got nothing on those two. I cannot tell you the number of times I've ended up on the bottom of a dog pile just for bringing it up."
"They'd beat up on a girl over their names?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.
Jules was unphased. "To be honest, I'm not sure they really see me as a girl, but I don't mind it. I've always preferred hanging out with guys." Her eyes twinkled at me mischievously. "Much less drama than the girls."
"Thanks so much," I quipped sarcastically, rolling my eyes and smiling despite myself as she laughed.
"Jules?" an unfamiliar voice suddenly echoed from outside, making me jump and sending a frisson of panic up my spine, even though the tone was unmistakably male.
"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Jules muttered, before raising her voice to yell back. "Out here!"
There was a brief silence as we waited for the new intruders to emerge. Then two lanky teenage boys with the same russet brown skin and jet-black hair as Jules ambled around the siding into the shed. The first boy was slender and very tall, well over six feet if I had to guess, with his hair cut to his chin, centre parted and tucked haphazardly behind one ear. The other was still tall but with more bulk to him, his chest muscles looking ready to burst out of his shirt if he breathed in too sharply – something in his demeanour said he might have picked a tighter fit for just that reason. In contrast to his friend's longish mop, his hair was close-cropped, like it was just growing out from a buzz cut.
Both looked startled to see me at first, but the burly boy quickly recovered, a smile clearly meant to be inviting creeping slowly across his face. The other boy was eyeing Jules with something like curiosity in his expression.
"Hey, guys," Jules greeted, her tone lacklustre. I was surprised; these must be Quil and Embry, and with how avidly she'd just been talking about them, I thought she would have been pleased to see them.
"Hiya, Jules," the short one said, still looking at me. The cheeky grin was just as impossible to resist as Jules' and I couldn't smiling back, getting a wink for my trouble. "Hey there."
Jules made introductions, gesturing to each of us in turn. "Quil Ateara, Embry Call, Bella Swan."
Embry turned out to be the taller boy and Mr Muscles was Quil. The two of them exchanged looks that I couldn't fail to recognise the significance of before turning back to me.
"Beau's mysterious twin sister, huh?" Quil said, the grin returning as he held out his hand to shake.
I took it readily; he had a firm grip and his skin was very warm. My hand got lost inside his palm and I was pretty sure he was over-flexing his bicep on purpose.
"I wouldn't call myself a mystery," I replied. "But yeah, I'm the other half of the twins. Do you two know my brother well?"
"We run into each other from time to time, when he finds himself on our side of the tracks," Embry said, his smile a little bashful and his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. "Hard not to recognise the son of the Chief of Police, ya know?"
"I think we saw you guys down at the beach a while back," Quil chimed in. "Ages ago now, maybe this time last year?"
"It's been a while," I agreed. "Nice to properly meet you both."
"So, what brings you down here today?" Quil asked, his eyes scanning over the mess that Jules was making of her floor.
"Bella found these bikes and we're going to fix them up," Jules explained. I didn't have time to correct the obvious inaccuracy – I would have almost nothing to do with the fixing part – before both boys practically dived on Jules with questions that flew so far over my head they might as well have been airplanes. I was reminded sharply of my Math books; they were all suddenly speaking in their own language, something I was sure would take me many hours of pouring over Car and Driver to understand. It was very obvious that this was how the three of them spent a good portion of their time, and my input was once again no longer needed for the conversation to flow smoothly. Which was just fine by me – their enthusiasm was as infectious as their smiles.
They were still cataloguing parts and pieces when I checked the time and realised I had to get moving before I missed my dinner deadline. I slid quietly out of the Rabbit, trying to decide if it would be easier to slip away unnoticed or say my goodbyes properly.
Jules spotted me and took the decision away. She looked embarrassed and apologetic. "Sorry, Bells, didn't mean to ignore you like that."
I waved off her concern. "It's fine, you were having fun. Besides, I have to get going, anyway. Those boys won't feed themselves. Well…" I corrected myself. "Beau might. But it is my turn to cook."
There was disappointment in her eyes. "Okay… well, I'll finish pulling these apart and get a list together of what we're going to need tonight. Any idea when we'll get to work on them next?"
"Is tomorrow too soon?" I always needed extra distractions on Sundays; none of us worked except for Charlie's odd weekend cover shifts, and with all the extra homework I did during the week, there was never enough to keep me busy all day.
"Tomorrow sounds great." Jules was beaming again, her excitement almost palpable.
"Maybe we could go shopping for parts," I suggested.
That dimmed her mood slightly. "Are you really sure you're okay with paying for everything? It doesn't seem fair."
"Absolutely," I assured her. "You provide the labour and expertise, I bring the chequebook. Perfectly balanced."
Quil and Embry were making eyes at each other again, but this time I couldn't quite work out what they were trying to say.
Jules still wasn't convinced. "I don't know…"
"Jules, how much do you think Dowling would charge me to fix these things? Or any mechanic, for that matter?"
Quil chuckled. "She's got you there, Jules. You can definitely do it cheaper than that snake."
"Plus you're teaching me how to ride it," I reminded her.
That made Quil snicker and whisper something to Embry that I couldn't hear. Jules narrowed her eyes and reached up to smack the back of his head. "If you're going to be childish, you can get out of here right now."
"No, let them stay," I insisted. "I really do have to go. But I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."
"Alright. See ya."
As soon as I was out of sight, I heard the jeering start.
"Damn, Jules does know how to be friends with a girl!" Quil crowed, and Embry laughed. Then there was the unmistakable sound of a scuffle which obviously did not go in the boys' favour, if the shouts of alarm and cries of pain were anything to go by. Girl or not, Jules clearly held her own even two on one.
"I better not see either of you around here tomorrow, or so help me…" she was threatening as I walked too far away to hear her through the trees.
A giggle escaped me unbidden, almost drawing me up short. After months where I was well aware I'd barely cracked even a forced smile, I was honest to goodness laughing, without an audience. That floating feeling from before took over again, and I had to laugh once more, just to stretch it out a little longer.
I was home before Charlie, but Beau came wandering up the street as I pulled into our usual spot on the curb. He looked disgruntled at first, but his expression quickly changed when he saw me.
"What's got into you?" he wondered, studying my face closely.
I rolled my eyes at him. "Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?"
The scepticism hadn't gone away yet. "Of course not, just… not what I expected. You weren't this… perky this morning."
I shrugged. "I had a spur-of-the-moment idea to go see Jules, and I had a really good day. How about you? How was work?"
"Boring," he grumbled, following me up the driveway. "And I wasn't exactly anticipating walking home in this weather, but when you didn't show up at four…"
Guilt twisted my insides at leaving him stranded; I hadn't realised he had a longer shift today. "Sorry, I should have texted as soon as McKayla let me go early. I called Charlie, I thought he might have passed on the message."
"Swan Sibling Rule Number One: Never trust the parents to pass on actually pertinent information," Beau said as we both extricated ourselves from our coats and shoes. His shoulders were relaxing and I could feel some of our old banter coming back; there was even a hint of his cheeky grin turning up the corner of his mouth.
I tilted my head to the side, matching his mood. "I thought Rule Number One was don't leave Renée alone with the internet and a bottle of wine?"
"No, that's Rule Number Six. Closely followed by Number Seven: Don't leave Charlie unsupervised in the kitchen."
I laughed and my brother looked like someone had tased him. I left him blinking away his shock and went to start on dinner. By the time Charlie got home, I was carefully taking the fried chicken out of the pan and setting it on a paper towel to rest.
"Hey, Dad," I greeted him when he stuck his head into the kitchen to investigate the smell surely wafting down the hallway.
He looked as taken aback by my bright smile as Beau had been; he reined it in quickly, though he couldn't hide the slight note of wariness in his tone as he spoke. "Hi, Bells. Did you have a good time with Jules?"
"I did," I said, still smiling as I transferred everything onto plates and began setting the table. "Will you let Beau know dinner's ready?"
"Sure." He ducked out and hollered down the hallway rather than going all the way to the living room. "Beau! Time to eat, kiddo!"
"Coming!" my brother's voice echoed back.
"So, what exactly did you girls get up to?" Charlie asked as he took his seat at the table, still eyeing me warily.
I was equally careful in my reply, walking the fine line between hiding the truth without showing that I was hiding anything at all. "Just hung out in her garage, really. She's almost finished on the Volkswagen she's been rebuilding."
"She got the parts for the Rabbit?" Beau joined the conversation smoothly, as if he had always been a part of it. It was a peculiar talent he had always had – the ability to pick up the flow of any exchange with only a few moments of observation. "How's it looking?"
"Good," I hummed. "Soon she might even be able to drive it."
"That'll be nice for her," Charlie commented. "Give both her and Bonnie a bit of extra freedom. And…" He chuckled. "I won't have to keep pretending to look the other way when I see Jules behind the wheel. Although I suppose she'll be sixteen by now, right?"
"Mm hmm." I turned my attention to my dinner, and thankfully the boys paused their interrogation to do the same. Both of them were watching me closely the entire time, and my bright little bubble began to grow steadily dim as the stress of keeping up appearances started to take its toll once again.
As the evening wore on, I also felt the looming shadow of anticipation. Without my numbness to shield me, and with the strange lightness of this afternoon rapidly fading away, I could only imagine the horror that awaited me once I went to bed.
I found as many ways to waste my time as I could that night. I cleaned the kitchen more thoroughly than I ever had in my life, refusing every offer Beau made to help. Then I sat down in the living room while the boys watched hockey and took as much time as I could over my homework; even reminding myself that I was getting it all done so that I could spend tomorrow with Jules without feeling guilty didn't help me stave off the sense of impending doom that intensified with each tick of the clock. The game ended and still I didn't move.
"It's getting late," Charlie murmured gruffly. This was a familiar routine, and I couldn't miss the disappointment in his voice.
"You head off to bed, Dad," Beau said, breezy and unaffected as ever, reaching across to snag the remote and switch over to some random late night talk show that was just starting. "We'll keep the volume down."
Charlie looked between the two of us a few times, then sighed, stood and stretched, and made his way off to bed. He did hit the lights as he left, a clear unspoken signal for us not to linger long.
"You don't have to do this," I mumbled, putting down my now completed History essay and tucking my feet up on the couch cushions. "We both know there's no stopping what's coming."
My brother shifted along the seat, bumping my notebook onto the floor so he could get right in next to me and throw his warm arm around my shoulders. "Maybe not. But you're talking about it tonight. That's feels like progress to me." He tweaked my ear gently. "Seems like these finally switched back on."
I swatted his hand away half a second too late. "Leave me alone, you jerk."
"You love me." He was supremely confident, as always.
We sat in silence for a few moments, watching the host and his guest on the screen try to make their pre-arranged talking points sound like a natural conversation, the audience applauding and laughing at all the right moments.
"Today was a change," Beau finally said, his voice low and probing without being pushy; it was a hand outstretched, an invitation that only had to be accepted. "Going to see Jules, I mean. It's been a while since you've really sought out a friend like that. Feels like maybe you've taken a step in the right direction?"
"I did have fun," I agreed. That much I could be honest about. "And… it has felt like something's changed recently. I don't know what, exactly." I shrugged. "Maybe that talking-to from Charlie yesterday sank in more than I thought it did."
He hummed, the sound one of scepticism. "You're not usually one to respond to threats, though. The opposite, really." He smirked cheekily, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "You dig your heels in and refuse to budge, just to prove a point."
"Isn't that what I'm doing?" I countered. "He wants me to leave, and I've said I'm not going. If anything, getting closer to Jules is me finding new reasons to stay here."
Now Beau was frowning. "No one wants you to leave, Bell. We just want you to be happy. Whatever else is going on, I've got to say, it is nice to see you smiling again."
I couldn't hold back the sigh that escaped me. "I just wish I could trust it to last. But it's not like everything else magically went away, just because I had one fun afternoon."
"You know I'm always here," he reminded me, serious now; his blue eyes flashed determinedly in the light from the TV screen. "I can guess why you don't want to risk following through on Dad's shrink idea… and I'm no professional, but you can be honest with me. Talking about everything might not be the worst idea in the world."
To his credit, I did think about it. For half a minute, those fierce eyes, that resolute expression, that open, earnest desire… no, need to be helpful in some way almost had me convinced to tell him everything. But then I thought of what would happen to that face when he heard the truth – all the truth, not just what he suspected. There would be anger, and pain too; my brother was empathetic to a fault and could not help but take on my agony as his own. Worse still would be the look of horror if he heard about my hallucinations. He wouldn't be arguing against getting me proper help then. With my luck, he'd be calling the psych ward himself.
I shook my head, and reminded myself that the way his face fell was nothing compared to what could happen if everything was truly out in the open.
"It wouldn't help," I whispered, the words feeling like they might get stuck in my throat. "I love you for wanting to try. But it wouldn't change anything."
Beau pulled me into a tight hug with both arms then, the television forgotten. I slid my arms around him, holding him as close as I dared, letting him keep me in one piece for a little while longer. For a long time, we just sat there, holding each other.
At last, I could not put off the inevitable any longer. I pulled away with a heavy sigh. "Time for bed."
Beau kissed me on the forehead before going to his room; he stood in the doorway and watched until I was out of sight up the stairs, as if to make sure I made it to my destination safely.
Once inside my room, I stood with my back against the door, staring down my bed as if it were a sacrificial altar. A maudlin image, perhaps, but an appropriate one as far as I was concerned; it was the site of my greatest torture, and tonight would be no different from last night. Every nerve ending was exposed, every synapse charged – every drop of agony would be felt, sharp and distinct, of that I was sure. I forced myself forward, went through the mechanical routine of dressing for bed, folding back the covers, laying down and pulling the blanket up to my chin, curling into a tight little ball in the vain hope of holding myself together. I pressed my eyes shut, braced myself for the coming barrage… and then I woke up.
The pale, cloud-diffused dawn light was shining through the window, and I blinked into it, feeling as surprised as Charlie and Beau had been seeing me smile last night.
There had been no pain. There had been no dream. I had slept the entire night without waking for the first time in four months. Something was battling the shock, trying to break through – a warm, light feeling, somewhere between relief and hope.
No. I could not let myself hope that this was the end of it. That would be too easy, after all these weeks and months of unending darkness. I lay and waited for either the torture or the haze to return, but neither came. For the first time in longer than I cared to think about, I felt rested. My sleep had finally done me some good, and while it couldn't undo months of deprivation on that front, it was at least a start.
But I could not ignore the pessimistic voice in the back of my head telling me it was too good to be true – certainly too good to last. I was still teetering on that tightrope, ready to topple off at any moment; the smallest trigger could be the thing that sent me tumbling. Even my room was a minefield now that my eyes had lost their haze. Now I could see how artificial it felt, everything neatly put away except for the odd bit of clutter that looked deliberately placed, like a display in a furniture store that was playing at being a lived-in room.
I continued wrestling with those little sprouts of hope that were trying so desperately to bloom as I got myself dressed and ready for the day. The thought of seeing Jules again was a double-edged sword; it fed that hope, because I couldn't help imagining another day like yesterday, a day that was easy and carefree, that didn't feel like a performance or battlefield. And yet I also couldn't shake the fear that this too was a temporary state. That even Jules' strange sunny aura wouldn't be able to keep the shadows at bay for much longer. I knew I couldn't let go of that fear, no matter how it might hurt me. It was better to be prepared for disappointment, though there was no way to keep it from crushing me all the same.
Charlie and Beau were both treading carefully around the breakfast table, too. Both of them took turns watching me closely when they thought I couldn't see them.
"You two got any plans today?" Charlie asked casually, studying a fraying thread on his shirt sleeve, as if my answer didn't matter nearly as much as that one strand of cotton fibre.
"Hanging around the house, getting my homework finished and maybe putting a load of laundry on," Beau replied, equally nonchalant. "Might… make a phone call later, if I have time."
I grabbed hold of the opening his plans offered and did my best to ignore the obvious way he had changed what he was going to say to avoid one of the dreaded names. "Actually, that would work out perfectly. I was going to ask if I could have the truck so I can go and spend some time with Jules again."
He looked a bit surprised, but recovered quickly. "No problem. Like I said, I'm not using it."
"Harry was talking about coming up for the game later," Charlie chimed in. "You'd be welcome to join us, son."
"Maybe Harry could bring Bonnie up, too," I added. "Turn it into a proper viewing party." And get rid of one more potential witness to the secret project in the Blacks' garage.
My dad beamed. "What a great idea, Bella. I'll go call them both now."
Although he was thoroughly distracted by organising his impromptu get-together, something about my suggestion had clearly set alarm bells ringing in my brother's head; he watched me closely as I got ready to leave, and I had to pretend I'd left my phone in my room to successfully sneak my chequebook into my jacket pocket. The as yet unused wedge of paper felt very bulky and conspicuous under the relatively thin layer of waterproof fabric, but at last I made it out of the house, my plans undiscovered for the moment.
Despite the bright morning, the rain had descended quickly and was now coming down so hard it seemed like someone was quite literally tipping buckets of water out of the sky. I took my time on the roads in deference to the reduced visibility, which only made me more anxious and frustrated; La Push felt a lot further away when I was approaching it at a snail's pace. At last, the muddy roads gave way to the familiar little house. Jules heard me coming again, even over the downpour, and met me at the truck with an umbrella ready and waiting.
"Your dad said you were on your way," she explained, grinning broadly; my answering smile was more of a reflex than a conscious choice. "Great idea to invite Bonnie over, by the way."
She held her hand up for a high five, and it was the most natural thing in the world to give it to her. The knot in my stomach relaxed just a fraction of an inch as the warmth I had been trying not to hope for began radiating through me.
We made small talk with Bonnie for a few minutes, and then Jules gave me a proper tour of the house – all five rooms of it – while we waited for Harry to arrive. But as soon as the door clicked shut behind Bonnie's back wheels, I was ready to get to business.
"Got that list?"
Jules produced a folded piece of notebook paper from her back pocket with a flourish. "Ready and waiting, milady." She smirked, her smile only growing wider as I laughed at her silliness. "I was thinking we'd start with the dump and see what we can scrounge before we head for the specialists." Her jovial attitude became more serious and her tone took on a warning. "I know I've said it before, but we're going to have to put a lot into those bikes to turn them into something usable again. This is going to get pricey. A hundred dollars at the least, probably a lot more."
I mimicked her dramatic reveal of the list with my chequebook, taking it the extra mile as I fluttered it beneath my chin like a fan. "Don't you worry about that. The chief financier came prepared."
We were still giggling as we popped up the umbrella and dashed through the rain to the truck.
It was simultaneously the weirdest and most enjoyable day I'd had in ages. The dump was hardly a pleasant atmosphere, especially with the rain still pouring down in torrents, turning the mud into a churned-up slurry that we had to more wade through than walk. Yet there was joy in picking through all the dirty bits of old machinery, laughing when we nearly tumbled over and had to grab onto each other for support. At first I wondered if it was just an aftereffect of the haze wearing off, but it didn't take long to realise that it was all just Jules. That sunshine and warmth I felt whenever I was around her was just a part of who she was; she didn't seem capable of being unhappy, and her positive attitude was its own kind of gravity, drawing me in and making it impossible not to join in on her good mood. It was like standing in the presence of a small sun – who could help but be excited to spend time with her?
There was only one awkward moment when she noticed the new stereo and let out a low whistle.
"Wow, that's definitely an upgrade from when I saw this thing last. Where did that come from?"
I fidgeted uncomfortably. "Birthday present."
"From Charlie?" she wondered.
"No, not Charlie." I didn't elaborate, and she finally picked up on my mood, quickly pivoting onto a new topic of conversation. Thankfully, she didn't ask to turn any music on either.
I couldn't tell whether we had a good haul when we finished at the dump, but Jules assured me that the oddly shaped metal lumps coated in black grease were very lucky finds indeed. I took her word for it, more impressed that she could recognise what they were than anything else.
Our next stop was Checker Auto Parts, which meant over two hours of driving south along the freeway to Hoquiam. And yet it felt like hardly any time at all with Jules for company. She continued telling me stories about her friends and her school, and I didn't have to remind myself to make interested noises or ask questions to keep her going; I just did, without even thinking about it, genuinely interested in what she had to say.
"God, I can't remember the last time I talked so much," she griped at the end of a long and very entertaining story about Quil getting himself into trouble with one of the seniors by trying to ask out his girlfriend. "Come on, your turn. What's the gossip in Forks these days?"
I shrugged. "No gossip, I'm afraid. Honestly, your friends sound way more interesting than mine. Quil seems like a hoot and a half."
She made a face. "I think Quil might have his eyes on another senior now, if you know what I mean." At my confused look, she turned mildly exasperated. "Oh, come on, he obviously likes you."
I laughed reflexively. "Oh no, he's too young for me."
"Gee, thanks," Jules said with playful snarkiness. "Glad to know a whole year and a half makes such a big difference. Sure you're not too mature to be hanging out with me?"
I rolled my eyes. "You're different. Besides, us girls are much more grown up than the boys, so you get a few extra years on him for that."
She chuckled. "I'll take it. But by that logic, I think you have to factor size in too. You lose some time for being so small."
"Excuse you!" I gave my best look of mock outrage. "I'll have you know, five foot four is perfectly average. We can't all be Amazons like you."
"Oh, I'm an Amazon, am I?" She grinned cheekily. "I think I like that."
"You would," I shot back, and we fell about laughing again.
The back and forth continued all the way to Hoquiam as we tried to work out the best way to determine our true ages. Years got added on and taken on for any number of skills and achievements; I lost a few years for my lack of auto repair knowhow, but gained some for my cooking skills and being able to balance a budget. The argument had to be paused so Jules could focus while we were in Checker, but we managed to check everything off the list and the final total didn't go much over her predicted hundred dollars. Beau was definitely going to notice when our next statement came in; I'd need to use the time to find a good explanation.
Our age debate resumed as soon as we were back in the truck, and by the time we made it back to Jules' house I was twenty-three and she was thirty – the value she put on skills, particularly of the mechanical variety, was definitely falling in her favour.
Through all the cheerful banter, there was the same little itch in the back of my head, my need to cheat niggling at me almost constantly, making me want to hurry her along with the repair work. I wanted my reckless escape, my promise-breaking danger, my righteous retribution as I shattered that one-sided bargain. My budding friendship with Jules was an unexpected bonus, but definitely a welcome one.
The house was still empty, so we didn't have to hide our haul as we carried everything back to the garage. Laying it all out on the plastic tarp that served for a floor felt like we were cataloguing some ancient treasure; Jules certainly approached the pile like an avid archaeologist uncovering a new find, going right to work with a frenetic sort of energy as she continued chattering and cracking jokes. Watching her hands was utterly entrancing. She was like an artist, each wrench, and screwdriver transformed to a paintbrush in her slender fingers, applied with precision in just the right place, with just enough force to leave the mark she wanted and start to bring all the disparate pieces together into a coherent whole. For how ungainly and off-balance she could be when she was on her feet – almost as hazardous as me – while she worked, she was graceful, even beautiful.
We had no interruptions from Quil or Embry, so her threats the night before had obviously done their job.
Before I knew it, dark was descending, and the day was almost over. I knew I should say my goodbyes and head home; the game had to be long since over by now, and I didn't want to push my luck or Charlie's good will too far. As I was opening my mouth to suggest we pack up, the sound of slamming doors and Bonnie's voice yelling for Jules echoed from the direction of the house.
I sprang up from my seat in the Rabbit, feeling the panicked expression on my face. I reached for the parts hesitantly, not sure what I might mess up if I moved the wrong thing, but she waved me away.
"Don't worry about it, I want to do some more work later, anyway."
"Make sure you don't spend all your time on it," I warned her, feeling a twinge of guilt for taking over her life so thoroughly and abruptly. "You must have homework and stuff to get done."
Before she could argue, another voice rang out, a lot closer than Bonnie's had been. "Bella? Jules? You out here?"
"Crap, Beau," I hissed. He would not have Bonnie's difficulty with the terrain. "We're coming!" I hollered.
Jules grabbed my hand, a conspiratorial smile on her face, and pulled the cord that served for a light switch, plunging us suddenly into darkness as the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling went out. I followed blindly as she led me out of the shed and onto the worn path back to the house. We were stumbling and holding onto each other, just like this morning at the dump, and by the time we made it to the stretch of grass that served the Blacks for a back lawn, we were once again giggling madly. Mine was probably a little on the hysterical side; I was still out of practice with laughter.
Charlie stood on the back porch, Bonnie in her chair beside him, both of them watching us with bemused looks on their faces. My brother was a few yards from the bottom of the porch steps, clearly on his way to hunt us down.
"Hey, Beau," Jules and I greeted him in unison, which just made us crack up all over again.
He seemed startled, then put on an exaggerated air of exasperation, tipping his head back with a heavy sigh. "Oh god, it's my worst nightmare – two little sisters!"
"Two minutes, jerk," I shot back, breaking away from Jules to give him a playful shove.
"Yeah, you wish you were cool enough to actually be related to me," Jules quipped, sticking her tongue out at him and ducking away as he tried to mess up her ponytail.
"Behave yourself, kiddo," Charlie warned playfully. "Don't want Bonnie to rescind her dinner invitation."
Bonnie chuckled. "No fear, Charlie, I've seen worse from my girls over the years. Besides, I needed an excuse to bust out my ancient family spaghetti recipe."
Jules snorted. "Yeah, ancient. It goes all the way back to when our people discovered the wonders of the grocery store and Ragu sauce in a jar."
Bonnie gave a faux exasperated sigh as we made our way back inside. "See what I have to deal with?"
The house was crowded, people spilling out onto both porches right from the get-go. The Clearwaters had all come back with Bonnie and the boys, and the four of them pushed the house to its limits. Harry was the same warm, friendly presence that I dimly remembered from my summers here as a child, as was his wife, Sue, who fussed around making sure everyone had drinks and kept offering to help in the kitchen until Bonnie firmly told her that she had it handled. They had two kids of their own, Leah and Seth. Leah was nineteen but still finishing her last year of school and spent most of the night monopolising the phone, clearly not wanting to be there. She was almost intimidatingly pretty, with flawless copper skin, a sheet of pitch black hair and features at once smooth and sharp that gave her an otherworldly look. Her aloof attitude contrasted sharply with her brother; at fourteen, Seth was very much still finding himself, his short hair sticking up from his head in messy spikes. He only had eyes for Jules the whole night, and it didn't take a genius to work out that he had a hopeless crush on her.
We were never all going to fit around the Blacks' tiny kitchen table, so instead Charlie and Harry shifted all the chairs outside and we ate off our laps in the garden. The adults were going back over the game for a while, then Charlie and Harry started making plans to go fishing next weekend. Sue playfully scolded her husband for not minding his cholesterol and tried to convince him to get an extra helping of salad, sighing heavily when he came back with a second serving of pasta instead. Beau and I sat with Jules, the two of them swapping stories and cracking jokes, with Seth chiming in every now and then to make sure we still knew he was there. I did my best to ignore the way my dad was watching me out of the corner of his eye, looking cautiously optimistic. The whole thing was loud and chaotic and wonderful; it was the sort of atmosphere I would have faded into the background of just a week ago, and though I still was far from the most talkative of the bunch, I felt part of things in a way I hadn't for a long time. I couldn't stop smiling, and part of me wanted to stay right here forever.
Unfortunately, the rain would not be kept at bay indefinitely, and once the first drops began to fall, the party had to be rapidly dispersed – there was no way we could all fit back inside again. Beau, Charlie and I all piled into the truck for the ride home, Beau insisting on taking the driver's seat, claiming he missed his 'baby'. Charlie asked how my day had gone, and I told him a veiled version of the truth – that Jules and I had gone parts shopping and then I'd watched her work.
"Planning on coming back again soon?" he asked, trying to seem casual and almost succeeding.
"I was thinking of coming after school tomorrow. If you don't mind lending me the truck again, Beau," I added hastily. "Don't worry, Dad, I'll bring my homework with me."
"Well, I don't have a problem with it, as long as you get your work done." Even Charlie's best authoritative parent tone couldn't hide how pleased he was to hear I was going to continue being sociable.
"Doesn't make a difference to me," Beau said with a shrug. "Just as long as you don't leave me stranded again."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Of course not. We can stop off at home on the way. Besides, walking home wasn't that bad, you big baby."
"I could have caught my death of cold!" He put a hand to his forehead dramatically. "Not to mention the heartbreak from being so cruelly abandoned by my most beloved sister."
I burst out laughing at his theatrics, and Charlie chuckled.
By the time we got home, however, the nerves had started to set in. Once again, the warm glow I'd been feeding off from Jules all day had faded away, and I knew it was too much to hope for two nights of peace in a row. I dragged my feet as I walked upstairs, and I could feel Beau watching me go, picking up on my anxiety.
With no more school work to delay going to bed, I booted up my ancient second-hand computer and checked my email, finding a new message from my mother. It was a typical multi-paragraph Renée ramble, all about how her day had been, the meditation class she had stopped going to and the book club she was joining instead, how she was missing her darling little kindergartners while her school administrators had her in second grade as a substitute for the week, how Phil was adapting to the shift from full-time baseball player to high school coach, and their plans for their next vacation, which they were thinking of turning into a second honeymoon.
It was an odd read because it didn't feel like it was meant for me at all. There were bits that seemed directed at Beau; she still hadn't figured out how to send a message to more than one person at a time and had a habit of copy and pasting the same text into a new email for each of us. Usually, she would edit them just enough to make them personalised, but that clearly hadn't happened here; if anything, it was more like a journal than a letter meant for someone else to read. Guilt stabbed into my gut – not only had I failed to protect my father from the full extent of my depression, but I'd neglected my mother too. Daughter of the year, I was not.
I took my time to write back, addressing each part of her message individually with comments and questions, then describing our evening at Bonnie's and my experience the last few days watching Jules work, the wonder and slight jealousy that she could make something come alive again that had been dormant for so long just by manipulating a few small bits of metal. I talked about Beau's teasing and how cranky he'd got about me not picking him up from work. I tried not to think about – and certainly didn't comment on – how different this email would be from the handful I'd summoned the strength to write over the past few months. I wondered how much my non-answers must have worried her, especially if she was also getting reports from Beau and Charlie. Which, knowing what hopeless gossips my parents and my brother could be, was highly likely.
Just as I was finishing the last line and skimming to make sure I hadn't left in any egregious typos before I hit send, a soft knock sounded at my door. I glanced at the clock; it was late, especially for a Sunday night. Charlie would probably already be in bed, and he certainly wouldn't approve of either of us still being up at this hour on a school night. Not wanting to risk waking him by calling out, I got up and went to the door. At first I was confused, because when I cracked it open, there was no one on the landing outside. Frowning, I was about to close the door when I happened to glance down and spotted something that made me stop dead, stiffening reflexively.
Sitting just outside the threshold of my room, looking dangerously unassuming, was the leather-bound journal that Renée had sent me for my birthday. I hadn't seen it since I'd made the split-second decision to bundle it up amongst my other presents and give it to Beau. At the time, I simply hadn't been able to cope with the thought of having it so close, having him within touching distance, if only in photograph form. It was too much, too painful – like having her hovering in the periphery of my awareness, but a thousand times worse.
A pale yellow post-it note had been stuck to the cover, just above where the cords wrapped around to hold it closed. Leaning down, I read the short message scrawled in my brother's loopy handwriting.
Ready for this yet? Might be helpful. Leave outside my room if not.
Was I ready for it? Did my resistance to the pain extend to this too? Had I built up enough strength to withstand the onslaught that would surely come from looking at the pictures, or reading the words of my relatively optimistic younger self, scrawled out in a time when there was still the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would work out? I felt a million miles away from that girl now.
Slowly, delicately, as if it were a bomb that would go off if I jostled it too much, I picked up my journal and took it into my room, closing the door softly behind me. I set the book off to one side on my desk and took an extra slow read through my email, sending my words to my mother on their way and carefully shutting everything down on my computer before I returned my attention to the little leather book.
I tucked my feet up on my chair and wrapped my arms around my knees, just staring at it for a while. Then I reached out one hand, my fingers trembling ever so slightly, to peel off the sticky note, trying to make sure I didn't leave any of the adhesive behind to mar the leather cover. After another minute or two of staring, I reached out again and freed the cord from where it was tucked in on itself, gently unwinding it and setting the book back down with the cover still closed, though it lifted just slightly now that it wasn't tied down, revealing the thinnest sliver of the edge of the first page. For a long time, I stared at that tiny piece of cream paper. How innocent it looked; to anyone else, this scene would be ridiculous. It was just a book… just words… just pictures. How was it that they held so much power over me?
It was this thought that made me finally sit up properly and open the first page. I flipped the cover quickly, like yanking off a Band-Aid, hoping this too would be one sharp sting that faded quickly. In fact, that first page was not so bad. There were my sketches of my room, a cut-out photograph of the house, me with Charlie and Beau in the living room. The words were all about my home and my family and how much had changed; I was so far removed from the person who had written them that I hadn't remembered the order I'd written everything, but clearly I had taken my time getting to the most important details. The next page, too, was bearable, mostly about school and friends. But I only had to lift the corner of the third page, catching just a glimpse of bronze hair in the photo at the bottom, before I slammed the whole thing shut. I focused on my breathing, trying to bring the oxygen in around all the cuts and slashes in my chest that were now throbbing fiercely. And yet… it wasn't as bad as I had feared. Certainly, it wasn't as forceful a pain as those first few days, when I had felt compelled to snap into a protective ball anytime that one lingering reminder of him came close. I knew I couldn't look at those pages – that was obviously going to be too much – but maybe… just maybe…
Carefully, once again feeling as if I were handling something explosive, I took hold of the first bundle of pages, feeling where the photos had thickened the paper. When I was sure I had all the filled pages between my fingers, I added one more sheet for good measure, then opened the book again. Blissfully, beautifully blank pages greeted me, and the twisting in my chest eased.
You can do this, I told myself. Just don't look back, and you'll be fine.
It took me a few minutes to find my pens, stashed in a drawer as they had been since September, but eventually I extracted them and carefully inscribed the date. I left a gap for the number, not one hundred percent sure what the date even was beyond sometime in mid or late January; I'd ask Beau in the morning, and hope he didn't look at me with too much pity.
I didn't think too much about what to write, knowing that agonising over it was only going to cause me more stress. Instead, I jumped straight in like I had with my email to Renée, trying to act like there had been no giant gap between entries, like I'd been faithfully writing on a regular basis all this time. I wrote about the impromptu party at Bonnie's and all about my last few days spent with Jules; I wrote down all my thoughts about her skill and her sunshiny disposition; on the blank facing page, I jotted down as much as I could remember of our age calculations, the pluses and minuses for each of us labelled with the skills and traits that had won and lost us years. I doodled the garage and the Rabbit, and even the bikes in their mangled, deconstructed state. I only ended up with two pages, half as much as I had written before, but it felt like a start, like progress.
Better still, it kept me up for longer. But eventually, there was nothing more I could say and nothing that could keep me from my bed. Whether it was that my brush with memory earlier had been too much, or just that there was nothing – not Jules, not the fleeting happiness of the evening spent surrounded by friends, not even sheer sleep deprived exhaustion – that could keep the nightmare at bay for more than one night at a time, but that night was just as terrible as any other. Worse, somehow, after the night of reprieve, because despite all my efforts, I had begun to hope. When I woke screaming, my face pressed into the pillow in an unconscious effort to keep from disturbing the rest of the house, I quickly descended into tears of frustration and disappointment at just how foolish I had been.
Once again, I found myself lying in bed with fog-shrouded daybreak shining through the window. How different it was this morning, not least because there had actually been a small change in the dream. I focused on that little detail to keep myself from falling back into the horror and hopelessness of the nightmare itself.
As I had stumbled through the trees that crowded my subconscious, I had been watched by Sam Uley. I couldn't fathom why he was there, expect that perhaps going back to my September self had dredged him up as an addition to my experience in the forest – after all, it had been him who had found me and carried me out of that darkness. He hadn't offered a helping hand this time, simply watched me as I'd gone about my usual panicked searching, his dark eyes hard, cold and full of secrets. More disconcerting still, when I did not focus on him, he seemed to shimmer around the edges, becoming unfocused and even changing shape in places, as if he wasn't entirely there. I didn't like having him there; he felt like an intruder, an invader in a space that, for all its frightening atmosphere, was mine and mine alone.
Breakfast was more uncomfortable still. Charlie had given up trying to pretend he wasn't watching me closely, putting the onus on me to try and act like I didn't see him staring, which quickly grew exhausting. Worse still was the look of expectation I was getting from Beau, as if he hoped his gesture might have been some kind of magic cure. I hated to disappoint him, but it also irritated me that he thought it would be that easy – that two days of relative positivity would mean I was all better after four months of constant dark clouds. As usual, I was the realist between the two of us; I knew the zombie was probably coming back, unless I could keep finding ways to chase it away. And even then, there was the hole… the cuts… the pain…
They weren't going anywhere.
I braced myself for a more thorough interrogation once we got in the truck, but Beau drove in silence, seeming to finally realise that he wasn't about to get the reaction he'd wanted and resigned to return to our new normal.
Unlike at home, at school I was very much invisible. It was what I had always wanted, what I'd had in Phoenix and what had been sadly lost by moving to this tiny town and its equally tiny school – anonymity. Attention had never been my friend, and to fade into the background was my dearest wish. With one thing and another, it had taken a long time for me to become one of the herd at Forks High School, but finally, I seemed to have made it. People called greetings to my brother and didn't acknowledge me at all; they ploughed towards me in crowded corridors, expecting me to move out of the way; even the teachers didn't seem to register that anyone was sitting in my seat, and I was never called on even by those who delighted in trying to catch their students off guard.
I hadn't been properly awake last Friday, but I was now, and my newly opened ears took in every sound around me. I contemplated trying to jump back into the world of Forks High like I had with my email and my journal last night – to try to act as if nothing had happened – but it was harder to speak than it had been to write. I couldn't bring myself to raise my hand in class, knowing the stares that were sure to come if I did, and every conversation I listened to was full of so many references to things I hadn't registered properly at the time, it was impossible to keep track of what was going on, and trying to join in any of them was completely out of the question.
I made my first effort to start a conversation of my own with McKayla in Calculus, which quickly turned out to be a mistake.
"Hi, McKayla," I greeted her, trying to sound calm and casual. "Did you enjoy the rest of your weekend?"
Her eyes were just short of hostile in their unfriendliness, and I was a little astonished at the depth of her anger. Sure, I'd been acting like a lunatic on Friday night, but could she really still be so upset with me?
"Sure," she said sharply, turning straight back to her book and making it clear that there would be no further elaboration.
"That's good," I muttered, suitably chastened. I let her have her space for the rest of class, feeling rather like a kicked puppy and trying not to let her attitude absorb my thoughts too thoroughly.
My last class before lunch ran late, and our table was already full by the time I got there; I wondered if there would even have been a seat for me without Beau saving one the way he always did, taking up space with his bag and quietly sliding it out of my way when I arrived. He seemed to be the only person who noticed I was there. McKayla went on talking to Erica, Angela, and Katie Marshall, a junior who I was fairly sure lived not far from our house. Conner, Tyler, and Logan were deep in debate with Austin Marks (the elder brother of the motorcycle family) and Jeremy was focused on his lunch. I wondered when the new arrivals had joined us, unable to find a point in the haze when I had registered their presence; did they always sit here, or was this a recent development? Frustration was back again – had my mind needed to protect me quite so thoroughly that it had essentially disconnected me from reality? The entire school could have fallen into a sinkhole and I probably would have kept trying to get to my classes on time.
I started trying to find a conversation that I could drop into, a fresh surge of determination that my aborted attempt earlier should not spell complete failure.
Still, I wasn't quite brave enough to attempt another inroad with McKayla; her gossip session would have to wait for another day. The boys were discussing something sports related, so that was an instant no as well. Talking to Beau felt like cheating, since he was guaranteed to respond no matter what.
Just as I was getting up the courage to ask Jeremy if he'd got up to anything fun over the weekend, Logan abruptly jumped across the unconscious gender divide that had somehow opened up by leaning over to Angela. "Hey, where's Ben? I haven't seen him all day."
So perhaps something hadn't changed; if he was asking Angela about Ben, they must still be together. Even just that one detail, one thing I still understood, made me feel just a little better. I tuned in quickly, eager for her response, and in the process noticed for the first time the stark change in Logan. The last I remembered, he'd been sporting a fairly typical short, tidy hairdo, but somewhere along the way he'd grown out the top while buzzing the back and sides almost down to stubble. The long section was slicked back but not flat, standing almost straight up with just the slightest curl down to one side. There was an artistry to the style, and he seemed to be taking more care with his clothes as well, dressed today in a button-down shirt and dark wash jeans that rode the line between casual and dressy. I couldn't help wondering what had prompted him to make the change.
Angela too had changed her hair, growing out the layers while taking about an inch off the overall length, but she was her same quiet self as she answered him. "He's got that stomach flu that's been going around. He was a real mess last night, but hopefully it's just a twenty-four-hour thing."
"That sucks," Jeremy commented, putting down the last bite of his sandwich as if he'd suddenly thought better of it. "Did you guys manage to do anything fun over the weekend, or was he too sick?"
"He was fine on Saturday," Angela sighed. "We were planning on a picnic but… we changed our minds, even before he started feeling bad." There was something in her voice and the way she fidgeted in her seat that piqued my interest.
McKayla looked annoyed that her audience had been stolen and opened her mouth to retake the floor, but I wasn't the only person who had noticed Angela's odd mood; Beau leaned forward, frowning. "What happened?"
Everyone's eyes were on Angela now, a state she clearly didn't enjoy (not that I could blame her) but there was hesitation beyond her usually reserved nature as she replied. "We thought we might try this spot a ways up the trail just past the hot springs up north. But we were only about half a mile out when we… saw something."
"What sort of thing?" McKayla asked, curious seemingly in spite of herself.
"I really don't know," Angela said with a self-deprecating shrug. "I mean, we thought it might be a bear, because it was black and we were pretty sure we saw fur… but it just seemed way too big."
Logan let out a derisive snort, and I realised that for all the changes to his appearance, his personality hadn't evolved in the slightest. "God, not another one! Ty, weren't you trying to spin some story about bears on the trails when you went hiking last week?"
Tyler didn't look happy about being pulled into the spotlight like that. "Shut up, man. I know what I saw."
Jeremy was a little bit gentler. "You don't usually get bears that close to the resorts, Ang."
Logan just scoffed. Something about his arrogance annoyed me enough that I broke into the conversation without stopping to think about it.
"They aren't the only ones. There was a hiker in Newton's on Saturday who said he'd seen a huge black bear just outside town." I turned to McKayla. "Remember, Kay? The guy who was talking about grizzlies in Yellowstone?"
The whole table had fallen dead silent as the attention on Angela abruptly shifted to me. Red-haired Katie's mouth was gaping like a fish, and even my brother looked surprised. For one horrible second, everything was frozen, and it was my turn to fidget uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
With the mood she was in, I wouldn't have been surprised if McKayla had denied the whole thing just to spite me. But after a moment, she nodded slowly. "Yeah, she's right. He was totally bragging to try and impress his friend, but he seemed pretty sure he'd seen a black bear bigger than a grizzly just off the trailhead."
Logan looked annoyed at being thwarted, and turned back to Conner, abruptly changing the subject. "Have you heard back from any colleges yet?"
Everyone seemed ready to drift back into their separate conversations again, except for Angela, Jeremy, and Beau. Angela gave me a small but grateful smile that I returned as quickly as I could. My brother was looking at me with something almost like pride, and I wasn't sure whether it made me feel pleased or pitiful.
Jeremy was curious and cautious in equal measure. "What else did you get up to this weekend, Bella?"
Like lightning, all the eyes that had turned away swivelled back, waiting with varying degrees of eager interest to hear what I would say.
Squaring my shoulders a little and trying to shake the feeling of being a carnival sideshow, I replied as casually as I could. "Well, McKayla and I went out to see a movie in Port Angeles after school on Friday, then I spent the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday with a family friend in La Push." I turned to my brother, attempting to will him into taking some of the focus off of me. "We had a nice little dinner party down there, didn't we, Beau?"
Beau nodded. "Yeah, it was a great evening."
His words barely seemed to register as everyone glanced from me to McKayla and back; she looked annoyed, and I wondered if she'd wanted to keep the story of our girls' trip a secret. Or maybe she'd just been waiting for the best opportunity to share it herself when I was out of earshot and she could say whatever she wanted.
"What movie did you see?" Jeremy prompted, an inviting smile beginning to spread across his face.
"That zombie film, Dead End," I replied, smiling back. Here was one person, at least, that was willing to let me edge my way back into the land of the living. "Have you seen it?"
"Not yet, but I heard it was terrifying. How did you find it?"
McKayla cut in then, a slightly snide smile of her own curling her lip. "Oh, Bella freaked out at the end. She couldn't even watch the last part."
I nodded, doing my best to look bashful without the blush that would have sealed the deal. "Yeah, it was super scary."
Jeremy kept peppering me with questions for the rest of lunch, Angela, and Beau eventually chiming in to make it a proper conversation and finally taking some of the heat off me. Everyone else went back to their own little huddles too, though there were lots of furtive glances in my direction. When I couldn't handle the scrutiny anymore and got up to dump my tray and head to class, Angela followed me.
"Thank you," she murmured as soon as we were far enough away to have no fear of the others overhearing.
I tilted my head to one side. "For what?"
"Standing up for me. I thought I was about to become the town laughingstock."
I shrugged. "It was nothing. Someone has to keep Logan in line."
She laughed softly, then gave me a look that was genuinely worried, in the is-she-really-okay sort of way, as opposed to McKayla's has-she-completely-lost-her-marbles concern. "How are you doing, really?"
I was reminded why I'd picked McKayla to go out with on Friday, despite always feeling a greater kinship with Angela. She was way too observant, and too genuine – it felt wrong to lie to her, and I couldn't do it now. "Still not great, to be honest. But I think I might be getting a little better."
Her smile was gentle and warm, and she reached out to squeeze my arm. "Good. It hasn't been the same since… well, everything."
Logan and Tyler passed us at that moment; Logan gave us a sideways look and then, in a loud and heavily sarcastic stage whisper, said, "Bella's talking again, deep joy."
Angela just rolled her eyes and turned the squeeze into an arm looped through my elbow. "Ignore him, he's just sour because people have stopped talking about his haircut."
A small chuckle escaped me unbidden, and I found myself oddly thinking about how I could describe the whole incident in my journal. I suddenly realised that I'd never added that last little detail to my entry from yesterday and asked Angela now. "Weird question, I know, but what's the date today?"
Angela was impressively unphased. "January sixteenth, why?"
"Hmm."
"What is it?"
"A year ago tomorrow was my first day here," I mused, my eyes scanning reflexively across the still bustling cafeteria as we left and carefully not going to one corner in particular.
"The more things change, the more they stay the same," Angela murmured, watching Logan's retreating back, her gaze flickering across to McKayla crossing the quad in the other direction.
"I was thinking exactly the same thing," I agreed.