Author's Notes: Brief period-typical anti-Native bigotry in this first section. There are also some specific but non-graphic references to abuse and other tactics of oppression used against Native Americans in this timeframe.

- Chapter 11: Crossing Lines -

When I woke, weak sunlight filtering through the diamond panes of my window, I knew I had to get Jacob's family's book out of the house.

I had dreamt of faceless figures in long black cloaks encircling the manor, marching through the halls, combing through every possession. If someone found the book, if they knew I had bitten that particular forbidden fruit, we would all be at risk. And after everything I'd learned the night before, it seemed prudent to take extra precautions around Edward's guests; returning the book would give me a reason to be out of the house until they left for Seattle.

I dressed quickly and, after a quick word to Mrs. Weber, slipped out the kitchen door to head for the library.

Jacob, of course, was not there. He had said I could give the book to whomever was working the counter, but now that I knew the truth that lay inside its pages, the idea of leaving it in the hands of a stranger felt ludicrous.

I smiled sweetly at the little grey-haired woman behind the counter, who clearly was a Forks resident rather than a member of the tribe, and asked if she knew where I might find him.

"The reservation isn't far," she said, adjusting her glasses, "and it's fairly small. There's a general store off the main road, I'm sure someone there will know where to send you."

She glanced furtively from side to side, as though checking for eavesdroppers in the empty library. "Now, you be careful down there, you hear?" she said, voice low. "The ones Reverend Weber brings to volunteer are good Christian folk, but some of them reservation boys are nothing but trouble."

"I'm sure I'll be just fine," I replied tightly. Her tone set something in me on edge; I hoped Jacob hadn't been subject to this woman's beady, prejudicial gaze.

As I started up the motorcar again, I thought briefly of Edward's warning to stay in Forks the morning before (was that really only yesterday?). But he couldn't have meant forever. And the reservation was so close…

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and pulled out into the street, headed for the coast.

- o - o - o -

The old bat at the library had been right—there was no way to miss the general store. Aside from the rare house appearing in the forest, it was the first building I saw along the road that ran between Forks and the beach, right as the trees started to thin to reveal the Pacific Ocean behind.

After parking the Cadillac in the small lot out front, I gathered my handbag—one of Alice's gifts—and ducked quickly into the store.

The woman behind the counter pinned me with her gaze the second I pushed through the door. Her face was impassive, but her eyes were wary. She could have been anywhere between 30 and 50, with gleaming, black hair cut straight across at her angled jaw.

I called a quiet "good morning" as I crossed the rough pine floor, and she dipped her chin briefly in acknowledgment.

"Can I help you?"

Her tone was polite but guarded, and suddenly I felt very out of place. I worried my lip—was it improper for a girl like me to show up asking for Jacob?

"Er…maybe," I replied, smiling uncertainly. "I met a young man at the library in Forks yesterday—"

The woman's eyes widened in recognition. "You're the Cullens' girl," she said.

I felt myself bristle. I didn't know what she was implying, but I knew I didn't like it. "I work for Mr. Cullen, yes," I corrected.

She just stared at me, unmoving. I was unnerved.

"Anyway," I continued, "the boy—Jacob Black, I mean, he loaned me a book of his." I fiddled with the latch on my handbag where the book was hidden, not wanting to reveal it just yet. "I wanted to return it, so—"

"Leave it with me." She held out her hand. Her tone left no room for argument. "I'll get it back to him."

I hesitated. I really had hoped to see Jacob again, but I could come up with no good excuse.

"I…all right," I said finally, finding no way out of this situation. "Thank you."

I unlatched my bag and extracted the slim volume reluctantly. The woman snatched it from my hand the second it was in reach.

"Bella!"

I whirled around at the sound of Jacob's booming voice, already grinning.

"What are you doing here?"

He looked thrilled to see me, long legs eating up the distance from the entrance. I was just as excited, and slightly relieved to be through with this very strange, very uncomfortable interaction.

"I wanted to return your book," I said as he leaned up against the counter beside me. "I figured I might be able to find you here."

"Aw, thanks!" His smile looked like it might split his face in two. "You didn't have to come all this way."

I ducked my head, my cheeks warming. "It was a nice drive," I said, a little embarrassed.

The woman slid the book across the counter to Jacob with a hard look. He didn't seem to notice as he plucked it off the polished wood. "Thanks, Sue," he said offhandedly. "Say, is that motorcar outside yours?" He looked like an eager puppy.

"Oh!" My eyes flicked outside—there was only one automobile in the lot. "No—well, not really. It's Edw—Mr. Cullen's," I amended, glancing at Sue. "He bought it for me to take the little girl around, but he lets me use it on my days off."

Jacob let out an impressed whistle. "Wow, he really is loaded," he said. "A Cadillac V-16 for the nanny, what an egg!"

I stifled a giggle. "You like cars?" I asked.

"And how!" He craned his neck, leaning around the display shelves to look at the thing through the window.

"You're welcome to take a look at it if you want," I offered. "I'm in no rush."

Jacob shot me a gleeful look, then bolted towards the door, too excited to stand on ceremony.

I said an uneasy goodbye to Sue, who nodded stiffly in reply, then followed my new friend outside.

Jacob was already sitting in the driver's seat. "This really is something!" he called out the window. "Real swank!" He ran his hands over the wheel. "Funny smell, though."

I couldn't fight my amusement. "It's comfortable enough," I said, laughing. "I don't really know much about cars."

Jacob looked scandalized. "Bella, there aren't even 3,000 of these in the world!" he chastised me, rubbing a reverent hand over the dash.

I shrugged, a little uncomfortable. I honestly hadn't realized Edward had gone so overboard.

"I'll bet it's a gas to drive," he said, unable to hide the longing in his voice.

I smiled—I liked Jacob. His youthful exuberance was refreshing after the buttoned-up formality of the last week with the cousins.

A slightly reckless idea occurred to me, but I couldn't resist. "Want to take it for a little spin?" I asked.

Jacob's jaw dropped and he looked at me in awe. "You really mean it?"

"Sure," I said flippantly. "You can show me the sights."

He didn't need to be asked twice.

We drove up and down Ocean Front Road, Jacob putting the automobile through its paces with an endearingly childlike delight.

After our third pass, Jacob sent me a look.

"I'm starving," he admitted. "Any chance you want to grab some grub and head down to the beach with me?"

At the mention of food, my traitorous stomach let out a growl, making Jacob snigger.

"Guess that's my answer!" he said cheerfully.

- o - o - o -

Jacob's father Billy Black was broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, but his humped back spoke to the reason behind his wheelchair use. He maneuvered around the little red cabin without issue, however, cheerfully greeting us both at the door.

"And who's this?" he asked Jacob with a waggle of his thick black brows as he held out his hand to greet me.

"Bella Swan," I said, taking his warm, dry hand to shake. "I met Jacob at the library yesterday."

That same glint of recognition I'd seen on Sue's face flashed in Billy's dark eyes, but he didn't lose his friendly demeanor.

"That's right, he mentioned that," he said as he released me. "They treating you all right out at Culwoode?"

Instantly, I could feel that he knew. "Oh, yes," I replied, trying to sound off-hand. "Mr. Cullen is a very kind man."

Billy made a noncommittal sound. It was a battle not to squirm under his intense scrutiny, and I was relieved when he finally looked away to Jacob. "You staying for lunch?" he asked. "Made some sandwiches if you want 'em."

Jacob's face lit up in interest. "Oh yeah? What kind?" But he was already on the move, headed toward the open doorway to the kitchen.

Billy chuckled. "That boy is always hungry," he told me conspiratorially, then wheeled after his son.

The platter Jacob pulled out of the icebox looked more like lunch for a small army; Jacob was already wolfing one down.

"Mmm, fried bologna," he mumbled around the massive bite. "Thanks, Dad!"

"There's a couple onion and bacon grease, too," Billy said.

"Great," Jacob said sincerely. "Mind if we take it down to the beach?"

"Not at all." Billy gave me a smile, but his eyes were calculating. "Nice to meet you, Bella."

"And you, Mr. Black."

Jacob took the whole platter, leading me out the back. "Grab that, will ya?" he said, gesturing with an elbow at a wool blanket folded neatly on a side cabinet.

The walk to the beach was short, but slippery. I wished I'd worn boots rather than oxfords; I had no purchase in the slick mud, and almost fell twice.

The well-worn path opened up quickly to a rocky shore, overlooking barren, rough rocks that jutted out of the water in the bay. The sun that had managed to outsmart the thin clouds that morning was still making an attempt at sneaking through, though with less success. Still, there was the rare shaft of light that made it feel like spring might finally be close.

Jacob set us up on a broad driftwood log, the blanket protecting us from the lingering wet. It was flat enough to rest the sandwiches between us, and he quickly set to work on one of the neat triangles.

"Eat!" he told me around his mouthful.

"Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" I teased as I picked up one of my own.

"Haven't you heard?" Jacob swallowed, then sent me a grin. "We're savages."

I snorted, making my opinion of that particular designation clear.

"Anyway," he continued, "Ma died when I was a kid. House fire."

I winced. "Oh, Jacob, I'm so sorry," I said sincerely. "I didn't mean—"

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it, you were just joking. But yeah, with just me and my dad in the house, table manners kinda fell off the map."

"No siblings?"

Jacob smiled. "Two big sisters," he said. "They're married. Rachel lives out near Spokane and Rebecca's down in Oregon. You?"

I shook my head. "Just me," I said. "My mother left when I was a baby, so my father raised me."

"Are you two close?"

The familiar stab of pain was almost comforting; I liked talking about Charlie. "We were very close," I said. "He passed when I was 16."

Jacob nodded, and I could see he was familiar with grief. Sometimes, pity made it worse.

"What'd you do then?"

"Boarding school, and then a teachers' college," I said, pulling off a hunk of sandwich with my fingers. "He'd been saving up money for me, so I had a little to pay my way."

Now on his fourth sandwich, Jacob gave me an excited look. "You went to college?"

"Just a two-year teaching certificate," I said. "But yes."

He looked impressed. "Wow," he breathed. "Nobody on the rez has a college degree. Most people don't get past grade school."

"Did you?" I asked, curious.

"Just got my high school diploma," he said with shy pride.

"Oh! The tribe has a school?"

Jacob flushed, and I realized I'd hit on something tender. "I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's fine," he said quickly. "I went to the Salem Indian School. You know, Chemawa?"

I looked at him blankly. "I've never heard of it."

He made a face. "Yeah, I guess it's only famous to us."

"What made you want to go to boarding school?"

He laughed, but the sound lacked any of the warmth and good humor I'd already come to associate with the boy beside me. "Bella, they don't exactly give us a choice," he said.

"Oh." I felt stupid; of course his boarding school experience would have been different than mine. "I'm sor—"

Jacob rolled his eyes, some of the lightness returning to his features. "If you apologize again, I'm pushing you off the log," he threatened, making me giggle. "I just forget how little you people know about us."

"So tell me," I said, picking up the second half of my sandwich. "If you want."

So he did. Like all the youth on his reservation, he'd had no choice of schools; if he wanted to continue his studies after the fifth grade, it was Chemawa or nothing. It was a difficult place, with crowded conditions and strict rules designed to stamp out the students' tribal cultures.

"A lot of the classes were more like job training," he said. "Farming, carpentry, machine repair, that kinda thing. But I really liked the academic stuff. Especially math. I got them to let me study on my own my last two years, so I got to geometry and more advanced algebra."

I smiled, picturing a baby-faced Jacob practicing his times tables. "So are there many children from your tribe there now?"

Jacob's eyes darkened. "No." He glanced around, as though making sure nobody was nearby. "Actually, we're trying to find a way to open our own school."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He seemed bolstered by my interest, straightening in his seat. "My dad's been talking to some old friends of his down in California. They're starting to take control of their own schooling. Things are changing in the government too, now that we've got citizenship. So we think now's the right time."

"So your tribe could be educated here?" I clarified. "They wouldn't have to leave for high school?"

"Exactly," he said, grinning. "We could teach them our way, in our own culture."

I smiled at his enthusiasm. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

"It'll be hard, though," Jacob said. "Like I said, not many of the adults in our tribe have a lot of schooling." His cheeks darkened but he didn't look away. "A lot of us who went away to the residential schools didn't end up coming back."

A chill ran up my spine. "What happened to them?" I asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

"Not all of it's bad," he assured me. "Like my sisters—they just met guys from other tribes so they moved when they got married. And of course some guys found jobs down there and stayed."

Something flashed in his eyes then, a deep and righteous anger. "When I first started there, this big measles outbreak just burned through the dormitories. A lot of us hadn't had it yet, so tons of kids got really sick." I could see his jaw clenching, the muscles contracting and releasing. "I got better," he continued, "but eight kids ended up with pneumonia and died."

"That's awful," I murmured.

Jacob shrugged, face hard. "We might not have fancy teaching degrees, but at least we can keep kids alive."

I blushed, hearing the rebuke.

"Sorry," he said. "I know it's not your fault. I just…" He leaned back on his arms, staring up at the grey sky. "I'd like to go to college, like you. So I could help more with the school."

"But…?" I prompted.

"Would they even let me?"

A hint of misery crept into Jacob's voice, and my heart squeezed. But I knew him well enough already to know pity wouldn't go over well.

I cocked my head to the side, considering him. "Well, the school I attended was women-only," I began slowly, "but maybe if we waved your hair…"

Jacob laughed, his mood instantly brightening.

"Honestly, Jacob, I don't know," I said, serious now. "But it might be worth it to try."

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

I reached for his hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. "If you want, I could help," I offered. "We could write to my college, see if they have any contacts."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," I said, and Jacob's smile was so bright, it might have chased away every cloud in the sky.

We arranged to meet up at the library on my next day off to begin our research, and I drove away from the reservation feeling lighter than I had since Antoinette had showed up at Culwoode.

- o - o - o -

I pulled off at Newton's Market on my way home to replenish some necessities. Waving at Mrs. Newton as I entered, I turned toward the shelf of toiletries.

I was just picking up a box of toothpaste when a rough hand grabbed my shoulder, making me jump and sending the box clattering to the floor.

"Where have you been?" Edward hissed in my ear.

"My God," I gasped, holding a hand to my heart as I turned to face him, "you gave me a fright!"

His face was hard, and suddenly I realized he was truly angry with me. "I've been out," I said. "You gave me the day off, remember?"

"I told you not to leave Forks!"

My ire was rising now, a small kernel of guilt making me defensive. "Yesterday," I said. "How was I supposed to know you meant forever? Anyway, I'm your employee, not your property—I can do as I please."

With as much dignity as I could muster, I leaned down to pick up the toothpaste I dropped and stalked off to pay. I could feel Edward at my back, a silent dark cloud following me as I completed my purchase.

I ignored him, exchanging pleasantries with Mrs. Newton as though I hadn't a care in the world. The cloud over my shoulder crackled with the impending storm.

When I finally reached the motorcar, Edward blocked me from opening the driver side door. I glared at him, but allowed him to steer me to the other side, trying not to focus on the way my stomach flipped at the feel of his hand on the small of my back.

Edward opened the door for me and helped me into the passenger seat. I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling at him through the windshield as he rounded the front.

"You let him drive?" he accused, nose wrinkling in disgust as he sat down in the driver's seat.

"Did you follow me?"

"No," he said. "But that dog's stench is all over the seat."

My jaw dropped. "Why, you vile, bigoted—"

Edward growled, low and warning. "That's not at all what I meant," he snapped.

My eyes narrowed and I pursed my lips, waiting.

"Didn't you read anything in that little book besides the part about vampires?"

My brow furrowed as I thought—then it hit me. Dog. The wolves.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "You mean Jacob—? The wolves are real?"

"If it hasn't started for him yet, it will soon, judging by the smell." Edward exhaled in a long sigh, and I could see him forcing his clenched hands to relax.

"I apologize if I came off domineering," he said finally, formal but calmer now. "I realize I could have been clearer with my request."

I softened slightly, letting my crossed arms drop. "If you tell me why you want me to do something, I might be more willing to comply," I said pointedly.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Edward took a deep breath, then made a face. "Would you mind if we talk outside?" he asked. "The wolf stench is giving me a headache."

I let him lead me just into the woods looming behind the row of buildings that clustered along the highway, where we wouldn't be overheard.

"Remember that I told you Antoinette might come back?" he asked when we were safely tucked away. I nodded. "I'm asking you to stay nearby so I'll be close enough to help if…"

I leaned against a tree trunk, eyeing him. "I was only just down at the reservation," I pointed out, trying to keep the whine out of my tone.

Edward sighed, sending a glance upward as though looking to the heavens for help. It made me want to laugh. "When Carlisle first settled here," he began, "the tribal leaders knew him for what he was. But they saw that his eyes were gold, so they were willing to talk rather than kill them outright."

I wondered just how long ago Carlisle had first come to the Olympic Peninsula, but didn't interrupt.

"Carlisle and the chief made a treaty, that if Carlisle and his family stayed off the tribe's land and never bit a human, their spirit warriors—the wolves—would leave us alone."

I frowned. "So you can't go to the reservation."

"No. So if something happened to you there, I couldn't protect you. Not without starting a war, anyway."

I thought of Antoinette's grip on my wrist and shivered. "But if the tribe really are werewolves, wouldn't I be safe there anyway?" I asked.

Edward tensed. "Bella, I have no way of knowing!" he said, voice raising again. "Alice can't see them—your future just…disappeared entirely until you crossed the border!"

In less time than it took me to blink, he was right in front of me, gripping my upper arms as though he could force the severity of his point into me through his palms. "You need to know what werewolves are dangerous," he said fervently, gold eyes intent on mine. "Especially young ones. Jacob Black is a ticking time bomb—all it would take is the slightest trigger of his anger, and he'll transform. If you were too close when it happens…"

He closed his eyes against the possibility.

"All right," I said cautiously, "I understand." But it was hard to picture the sweet, animated Jacob I'd come to know as dangerous.

"Promise me you won't go back to the reservation," Edward implored, squeezing his fingers on my arms.

"I promise," I said, and I meant it.

I would stay away from the reservation, just as Edward asked. After all, the library was right there in Forks.

Author's Note: I'm furiously working through chapter 12, in which we will FINALLY get the full story on Antoinette! Hoping to get it up in the next few days, so watch for that.

And in case you missed it, I put up a second chapter of the EPOV companion story, Curious Sort of Bird. Check it out if you haven't already. It covers the middle of chapter 3, when Edward is ignoring Bella.

Footnotes:

The Cadillac V-16 was the company's first car with a V16 engine, originally released in Jan 1930. It was the top-of-the-line model and very exclusive; only 4,000 were built throughout its 11-year run.

Egg is 1920s-30s slang for a rich guy.

The hump in Billy Black's spine that Bella notices is a sign of complications from Pott's disease, or spinal tuberculosis. TB outbreaks were horrifically common in American Indian boarding schools in the late 19th/early 20th century due to malnutrition and overall poor living conditions. TB of the spine is a particularly rough break, causing painful abscesses on the spine that deform the vertebrae. Nearly a third of patients died before the discovery of antitubercular drugs in the 40s, and another +/-20% were paralyzed or severely crippled.

Both onion and bacon grease sandwiches were popular and economical options during the Great Depression. The former was usually thick slices of raw white onion with mayo, the latter just literally bacon grease on bread. Woulda been tough to keep a young wolf-shifter fed at that time! Peanut butter and onion also came up in my research but I cannot in good conscience include that in a story, lest I scar some young reader for life—or worse, entice someone to try it.

The Chemawa Indian School, then known as the Salem Indian School at Chemawa, is one of four remaining off-reservation boarding schools run by the Bureau of Indian Education. I won't try to sum up its history here, but I really recommend reading about it on the official Chemawa website ( .edu) and the articles on both Chemawa and Indian Boarding Schools from the Oregon Encyclopedia ( ), run by the Oregon Historical Society. "Stolen: Surviving St. Michael's," the podcast from investigative journalist Connie Walker, is also a fantastic resource for learning more about the more recent history of residential schools with firsthand accounts (although this one's about a school in Canada).

At the time Jacob would have attended Chemawa (roughly 1923-1930), the school was in the process of becoming an accredited high school; Jacob would have been in one of the first few classes of high school graduates. However, even though some students got positive things out of the school, it was not a happy place to be in this era.

Native Americans were not granted US citizenship until 1924.