Chapter Two: Forks

On Saturday morning, Charlie woke me with a start. Shaking my shoulder lightly to get me to stir. "Beau. Beau-sie. Billy, and Jacob are here."

My sleep-deprived brain slowly began to noodle through what he was saying as I woke with a sudden start and clutched my chest on instinct. The name 'Jacob' sounded familiar in the back of my mind, but I was too tired to process why.

"Huh?" I groggily buzzed, sitting up and rubbing a hand through the dull, stringy, hair I'd inherited from my father.

"I said: Billy and Jacob are here. With the truck? Come down and look at it."

The Truck! Right! My eyes snapped open in alertness.

"Yeah! Sorry, I forgot," I mumbled, waving to my father as he closed my bedroom door.

Soon as I was dressed, I peeked out the window, but I couldn't see the truck enough from my vantage point to sate my curiosity. I did, however, see a middle-aged man in a wheelchair with deep russet skin, long midnight hair, and a black cowboy hat. A boy who looked to be around my age, of similar appearance, was pushing him toward the front door. Not that I could make out his face very well.

Resigned to the fact that I'd have to go outside and be 'sociable' to see the truck, I shoved my socked feet into a pair of worn sneakers and hurried downstairs.

Everyone was waiting for me on the brick driveway, so I rushed to meet them, smiling awkwardly as all eyes fell on me.

"Beau! You remember Billy Black, now, right?" Charlie asked with jubilancy.

Seeing the older man up close, with his warm, beady eyes and familiar smile, I nodded. "Yeah. Wow. You're looking good."

When Charlie told me his friend was in a wheelchair now, I'd thought he would look like a shriveled imitation of a person. A disabled old crone, so to speak. But he looked youthful, as strong as my father, and just as cheerfully optimistic as I remembered him from my trips here.

Billy grinned triumphantly. It was hard not to smile when he did; his energy was so magnetic.

"Well, I'm still dancin'," Billy explained as he moved his arms to an imaginary, energetic beat. No doubt to make me smile – and it worked. "I'm glad you're finally here."

Charlie looked instantly embarrassed, not that it stopped Billy any.

"Charlie here hasn't shut up about it since you told him you were coming!"

My father uncomfortably rolled his eyes ever so slightly. He was genuinely embarrassed to be put on the spot in front of his estranged son. "Alright. Keep exaggerating, and I'll roll you into the mud."

Jacob laughed behind Billy's wheelchair and it struck me. He reminded me of my Mom, in a way. As he laughed with his whole heart; Infectiously warm and comforting.

I laughed with him, sharing an awkward teenage moment, as Billy took hold of the steering of his wheelchair and rolled after my father.

"After I ram you in the ankles!"

Charlie fled from the side of the faded red truck, the one I assumed was for me, to not be squashed under his wheelchair.

"Oh, you want to go?!" Charlie leapt out into the street – which thankfully had no cars on this sleepy drive – and playfully held up his arms like a boxer.

"Yeah!" Billy challenged, trying to ram into my father in jest.

Which left Jacob and I alone, or partially alone, by the side of the old Chevy truck.

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie, Jacob stepped closer to me, grinning ear to ear. "Hi, I'm Jacob. You probably don't remember me?"

I did. Vaguely.

"We made mud pies when we were little and stuff?"

A faint laugh broke from my lips. I was hoping he wouldn't have remembered that. My dreams of being a chef were so incredibly dorky. I hadn't wanted to professionally cook for years.

"No," I blinked excessively, from nerves. "I mean, yeah, I remember."

Anxious to change the subject, I glanced at our parents, who were now playing some kind of tag. Billy chased Charlie as he ran in circles away from the house.

"Are they always like this?" I had to ask since I couldn't remember ever seeing my Dad this jolly in all my life.

Jacob leaned in closer to me, peeking toward his father, and whispered: "It's gotten worse with old age."

"Huh. Great," I joked lamely as my father ran back to us and patted his hand against the back of the truck. Loud enough to make a faint metallic sound.

"So, what do you think?" Charlie anxiously asked. Billy rolled up behind him with the same uneasy energy pouring from his mirthful face.

Turning to face the truck, giving the Chevy my full attention, my mouth slathered into a sheepish grin. To my surprise? I loved it. Staring at its large, rounded fenders and bulbous cab – I knew this old thing had stories to tell. Even though I had never driven a stick, I could imagine driving this. For a moment, I understood what excited Tim Taylor about Hot Rods. A glimmer of a car buff lurked inside me, and at that moment, I had to touch it.

My father was silent. No doubt waiting for any sign of abhorrence from me. In the back of my mind, I could feel his eyes on my face, but I didn't care.

The smile filled me completely, even if it barely showed on my inexpressive face. "I love him! He's perfect."

In an instant, the door was open. I just had to get inside and check out the interior.

Unfortunately, Jacob had moved closer to me when I wasn't looking at him, so the door almost whacked him in the face! It did, however, smack against his shoulder.

"Crap! Sorry, I didn't see you'd moved!" I apologized hurriedly.

Jacob giggled as he rubbed his upper arm. "No, no, don't worry about it. I was in the way."

Relieved that he was alright based on the sunny smile he sent me, I hopped into the driver's seat of the cab without another word.

Too eager to investigate my truck to wait any longer.

Jacob hopped into the cab's passenger side, scooting next to me on the bench, which had been vigorously cleaned even if it still bore a faint scent of tobacco and spearmint.

In the background, I thought I heard Billy say: "I told you he'd love it. I'm down with the kids."

Charlie sighed in a low rumble. "Oh, yeah, Dude. You're the bomb."

I wasn't paying attention to our Dads anymore. Instead, I was studying the enigma of the weird stick poking out from the right side of the steering wheel, which made me very uncomfortable. I'd only ever practiced driving on my Mom's automatic Toyota.

Thankfully, Jacob didn't laugh at the dazed look on my face.

Instead, just pointed at something near the steering wheel. "Listen, you gotta double pump the clutch when you shift, but besides that, you should be good."

"Is that this one?" I gestured vaguely.

"Yeah," he moved to grab the clutch and elaborate for me.

I chuckled and imitated him once his hand moved, ignoring the mild 'jerking off' gesture we'd both made. I wasn't twelve anymore, I reminded myself. So don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh.

I laughed. But so did he. Snorted, actually.

"So, like, I've never driven a stick before. And this? It doesn't even look like an H."

"Really? It's easy," Jacob encouraged, making my ears' tips grow hot. It was embarrassing – I was a guy. I should know more about cars and trucks than I did.

"Can you show me?" I jokingly pleaded with him. "Cause, otherwise, you'll have to give me a ride to school on Monday."

He blinked at me in mild confusion before he frowned, his eyes drained of their playful spirit. "I couldn't if I wanted to. I go to school on the Reservation."

"Oh," I murmured as I looked back at the ominous gear shift. What was I going to do? "Well, that sucks. I was kind of hoping I'd know someone there."

"I'm sure you'll make friends in plenty of time. But, you know, if you ever want to hang out with someone real' cool. Well, you can call me."

I laughed, hard enough to wheeze, and tapped my fingers against the large, white, steering wheel in front of me. "Yeah. Sure. I'll definitely hit you up. If I ever decide I want to know about cars…"

"Ha! I can stay a while. Show you how it works if my Dad's okay with it?"

Relief flooded through me instantly. "Can you ask? Cause that would be amazing."

Jacob grinned and nodded as he turned his head toward where Charlie and Billy were staring at us and called out: "Hey, Dad?"

Billy and Charlie stopped bantering to look at us. I turned my head to face them, too, my eyes widening at what I couldn't stop: Jacob. Ratting me out.

"Beau doesn't know how to drive a stick."

The look of complete surprise melting onto my father's face broke the camel's back. Humiliated, I turned and sank my face into the steering wheel. As if I could somehow hide from the shame I felt in being utterly useless.

The entire afternoon was spent teaching me how to drive my new truck. I almost hit the police cruiser backing out of the driveway alone, but Jacob was a pretty good teacher. Didn't laugh too hard when I messed up. He also didn't grab the wheel from me when he was nervous, either, like Mom used to do.

Halfway through the lesson, when driving down the one main street of Forks, I turned to Jacob – finally confident in my driving skills enough not to constantly stare at the road. "Are you sure there's no way I can convince you to, like, transfer schools?" I joked, flicking my turn signal as I slowed the truck down behind a red traffic light.

"Nah. I prefer the Rez' exclusivity. They let any ol' riff-raff at Forks High. Besides, it's closer to home and I have to take care of my Dad."

I felt that so deep in my gut that it hurt. But, even if I felt a connection with my old 'friend,' I felt too stupid to say anything. My Mom was generally absentminded and flighty – but she still had her mobility. There wasn't anything that we knew of that was wrong with her health. It felt wrong to compare what I was going through with what Jacob had endured.

If I remember right, Jacob and his older twin sisters had lost their Mom in a car crash several years ago. Jacob must have been taking care of his Dad ever since then. It sucked, majorly, to be without my Mom, but at least mine was still alive. It felt deplorable to compare our situations and feel any kind of kinship. How could I compete with that? Never. Why bother trying?

"So, what do I do if this truck breaks down or starts smoking?" I changed the subject fast to avoid getting personal.

Jacob scowled at me. Clearly not amused by my teasing. "I totally rebuilt the engine, Beau. It's not gonna break down anytime soon. Unless you keep using the wrong gear."

Snorting at his mockery of my inexperience, I shifted the gear to the right one, then turned on the road back toward Charlie's house. "Wait, you rebuilt the engine? What else can you do?"

Jacob practically beamed with pride. "Cars. Motorcycles. You name it. Learned from the best. Right now, I'm saving to buy parts for a rabbit. Dad said I couldn't start work on it til we sold this lump of junk," he teased as he tapped the inner frame of the truck and grinned.

"Well. You better tell him to up your allowance or something. Cause I'm keeping this one."

Laughing with my new, old, friend was nice. I was surprised to find friends here in Forks. Pity I couldn't see him at school, but we exchanged numbers, and he said he'd call sometime.

Unfortunately, he didn't have a cell phone, so texting was out of the question.

Tired from the hours of practice, I went to bed as soon as Charlie left to take Billy and Jacob home.

On Monday, I was starting at Forks High School. Home of the Spartans. While there were over seven hundred teenagers in my junior class alone back in Phoenix. I was mainly home-schooled, so I only had to attend school once or twice weekly to turn in homework and pick up new assignments. The crowds being so large had been what my doctor called 'overstimulating.' This would be my first time back in a real 'school' setting and to say my Mom was worried was an understatement.

I knew I'd be alright – I had to be.

Three hundred students was a much more reasonable crowd size, even if I was a little nervous about it. It would always be easier to blend in with a larger crowd, though, which was the only good part about going to a school that was ridiculously overcrowded as the one in Phoenix. Here? All the kids had likely been toddlers together – hell, their grandparents probably had been toddlers together. I would be the new guy from a big city. A curiosity, a freak.

Maybe if I looked like a 'normal' guy from Phoenix rightly should, I could somehow work this to my advantage. But, physically, I wasn't tan or sporty and hadn't touched a baseball bat since middle school. It wasn't like I had the charisma to pretend I'd been popular either.

All the things that gave someone away for living in the valley of the sun didn't apply to me. I had pale skin, dark brown hair, and was slender with low muscle mass, and I would instead take photos or read than play sports. So how was I going to make friends? Or find any kind of group or niche to be in?

Which was a rather comical thing for me to vex over, seeing as I rarely spent any after-school time with friends and preferred it that way.

Laying on my bed, unable to sleep, I turned my head to stare at my reflection in the floor-length mirror I tended to avoid. I wasn't unattractive: my Mom's good genes had spared me that. But, I didn't relate well to people my own age.

Or I didn't relate to 'normal' people in general.

Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never entirely in sync with me. We were never exactly on the same page, and sometimes I wondered if I saw the same world she was in. Our frames of mind were so different. She didn't, and might never, understand why I needed to be here in Forks.

She had Phil now, which was great, but when I was there, she had to be 'my mom' instead of a woman with a man. Phil was good for her and he was a nice guy to have as a stepfather, but I didn't want to keep feeling like a bizarre third wheel.

In the morning, I awoke with red eyes. Whether it was the constant whooshing of wind and rain against the roof that never faded into the background, or the tears I had shed before exhaustion finally broke me, sleep remained an elusive mayfly.

Right now, the rain was a quieter drizzle against the roof. Even with knowing I woke earlier than the alarm I'd set to get me to adjust to my new sleep schedule, the chances of me going back to sleep were slim.

Tomorrow loomed on the precipice for the entire day. I made each decision to prepare and plan for my first day back at school 'full time. 'What I planned to wear was folded on the rocking chair before it was even noon. I even went out of my way to drive through Forks to get the lay of the land and find out where my school was so I wouldn't get lost tomorrow morning.

Though, if I had known just how fast this truck ate up gas, I probably wouldn't have driven as much as I had. There were only one, maybe two, gas stations in Forks. My wallet wept as I spent a third of the wad I'd saved filling up my truck's gas tank alone.

When I finally went to bed, I lay there morosely exhausted from the lack of sleep. Reminded of John Cusack's character in the movie: 1408. When the sweetly ominous voice of the Carpenter's singing: "It's only just begun" from the alarm clock. As the night started over, again and again, driving him to madness.

Only, instead of music, it was the torrential out-pour of rain. Pounding over and over against the roof into the wee hours of the night. Until I was so riled and depleted of vitality that my mind simmered to a lull, and I finally caught a few hours of sleep.

Unable to pinpoint precisely what vexed me to this point of restlessness beyond the obvious causes, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. A storm that had nothing to do with the rain. I imagined the music in my head, over and over and over…

It had only just begun.