Twilight AF
Chapter 6
Somewhere between 3:40 and 3:45pm buzzcut drops off my truck without making a single sound, and that's when I begin to suspect I'm living in an alternate universe. Even the hearing impaired can hear John Boy coming from ten blocks away, so there's absolutely no way she could have driven it silently. The only conclusion I can make is that she pushed it, and the imagery of the little crackhead pushing John Boy in the rain terrifies me.
For the most part I was more concerned that she'd knock on the door and invite herself in for coffee. There's something really needy about her, and freakish. For example, she doesn't walk, she skips, but then, she doesn't even really do that, either. It's more like she moonwalks. Also, her hair doesn't behave naturally; it's always bristling, even when she's sitting still. Not to mention, she has the same gold phosphorescent eyes as sex hair and more than likely has super powers as well.
I'm willing to bet all the Chernobyl supermodels have eyes that turn from gold to black every month. Even Dr. Dreamboat.
I finish my homework and then Google if it's possible to change eye color through diet. I mean, maybe they're vegan, or fruitarian, and their eyes are a side effect of rickets, or something.
Whatever, it isn't possible.
Not to be deterred, I Google mythical creatures with multi-faceted irises. The closest thing I can find is a wendigo. They possess humans and then eat them while they're asleep.
Maybe that's why Clark breaks into my room every night?
I have a delayed reaction, hyperventilate, and bolt through the house locking all the doors and windows. Then I tell myself I'm being stupid and return to moping over the thought of sex hair being absent tomorrow.
I'm starting to suspect I'm turning into my mother, and in a few short years my sole purpose for living will be for some quasi-closet drunk with missing teeth in a wife beater.
I hate myself for brooding over it, but I don't stop.
Charlie heats up canned goulash for dinner and then asks me whether I'm experiencing my "monthly mood swings". I burst into laughter. Charlie laughs with me, probably for want of a more appropriate response, before we both pretend it never happened and finish eating in silence.
We have Jell-O and whipped cream from a can for dessert because, other than fish, I don't think Charlie is aware food can be served fresh.
I go to bed fully expecting tomorrow to suck.
The suckage starts early. I lie awake for most of the night trying to catch Clark sneaking through my window, but by 4am, I realize he's a no-show. By that time, I also realize I should have probably kept my breathing regulated because most people don't hyperventilate during REM. I couldn't help it, though. Every single rustle of leaves or snapping of twigs outside my window left me in a constant state of semi arousal.
I really have to get smarter because sex hair is a wily one. Now that he knows I'm onto him he's more than likely anticipating this and will play it cool for a while.
I spend the next few hours before dawn searching nanny cams on eBay, and fall asleep an hour before my alarm.
I don't have time to dream about him.
I'm late to school, and by the time I arrive I realize Jessica's filled the entire student body in on my fainting episode the day before. She also bullshitted it into the fantastical for added affect. Something about how I puked blood and French fries through my nose.
Bitch.
"So what did Edward want yesterday?" she pries at the beginning of Trigonometry.
"He asked me out. We're going to Seattle the night of the spring dance," I say openly. It's easy to lie when it's the truth, and I don't mind everyone knowing the resident alien sex god has taken a fancy to me.
God only knows why.
Her mouth falls open and her eyes start to spasm as if she's hastily looking for someone to contradict me. No one but her cares though, so she sniffs and starts hinting that he's secretly gay again.
I get all vague to the contrary and then clear my throat with added innuendo and she stares at me mouth agape for the rest of the class. Then she gives me the cold shoulder, but that's no loss.
Every class is banal as fuck and without batman I have no defense against closet perv. He still follows me around like a service dog, over prostrating himself with zero idea how to take a hint.
Lunch is shit. Not only is sex hair absent but so is his whole family. I start convincing myself I've been asleep since I came here and the creepy fostered supermodels were never real to begin with.
It makes more sense when you think about it.
Everyone at Jessica's lunch table is working themselves into a frenzy over the surfing trip tomorrow, while I sit bummed out, knowing there'll be no banter with sex hair for the next hour. No hearing his honey and Benadryl sex voice, and no weirdly sexual spells being cast over me.
At the end of lunch, I discover Lauren Mallory has her nose out of joint over my lunchtime fling with Clark the day before. I overhear her bitching me out to squinty eyes on the way to Bio. Her voice is mind-numbingly nasal, but she can't hide her resentment, and that's enough to deter me from shoving her in the back of the head.
In response squinty eyes gets all possessive and starts repeating Jessica's gay conspiracy theories until my deliberations of violence shift to him.
I don't know why the thought of sex hair batting for the other team bothers me, but it does. It makes me homicidal to be frank, but I've probably just had one too many erotic dreams about him that I'm beginning to lose myself in fantasy.
The day ends and I mope all the way home knowing I have to get through the weekend before I'll see Clark again.
Charlie fakes enthusiasm about the surfing trip tomorrow and starts listing off raps sheets of the locals again until I forgot what we were talking about. Apparently squinty eye's grandfather is a flasher and that makes way too much sense.
Then he casually mentions how Dr. Cullen has taken his family camping deep into Mount Rainer, and how dangerous it is, while I almost choke to death on a noodle of spaghetti. Of course, Charlie then proceeds to drown me in a glass of water.
"Why is it dangerous?" I croak out when I have air in my lungs to speak.
"It's an active volcano," he says, frowning and looking troubled, "and there's a lot of bears this time of the year."
Before going to bed I Google whether wendigoes eat bears as a part of their diet. Nope, they prey strictly on humans. There's also zero information about whether or not they smell like Windex.
I make a mental note to smell Charlie's aftershave tomorrow after convincing myself sex hair just has a thing for cheap cologne.
I really am becoming delusional.
The next morning the sun is shining. I stare at it for a good thirty seconds, contemplating rubbing my eyes, before I can believe it. I don't think Charlie shares my excitement, though; The Sound of Silence is playing on the radio in his room, turned up high. I suspect he hates the sun because my mother chose it over him.
He leaves just after 8am to go fishing. On a side note, Brut 33 does not smell like Windex. Either does my bedroom, anymore, but I dreamed of sex hair again last night, and the sun is out, so I'm quitting while I'm ahead.
Then I remember I have to go surfing with closet perv and Jessica.
Mike's parents own a camping store on the outskirts of town. That's where we all agree to meet.
There's almost a dozen of them milling in a group, more than likely waiting for me to rock up. I'm a tad late. It couldn't be helped, I combed John Boy for bugs and hidden cameras before I was confident enough to start the engine. Sex hair's a creeper and his sister's just flat out weird so I wouldn't put anything past him.
Lauren Mallow is going apparently. She's gives me the side-eye the instant I haul myself from my truck and then not-so-discreetly gossips about me with Jessica and two other girls whose names I don't know. Since Lauren's problem started with me after sex hair invited me to sit with him Thursday, I can only conclude she's jealous. In which case my mood's about to lift. I have to remind myself to ask Clark about it Monday, but considering what an absolute beautiful creep he is, it's safe to assume every girl in school, including office admin lady, hates me because of him.
I can live with that.
Mike's overly excited to see me and instantly rushes over to know doubt unburden himself of all his happiness. I pretend to swallow a fly, and then make a beeline for Angela.
He follows me.
"So, ah, Bella, we're still waiting for a few people. Did you invite anyone?" he digs, all hopeful and completely obvious.
"I invited Edward," I admit openly, just as everyone turns mute and Mike starts scowling.
"Is he coming?" He's whining but I really don't like the accusatory tone he's using at the same time. This little dipshit loser really needs to understand that I owe him absolutely nothing.
Maybe sex hair really should kill him.
"He's gone camping with his family," I'm forced to disclose, and naturally, no one believes me. They'd sooner believe I'm covering a rejection, and I'm not entirely sure I'm not.
Closet perv is satisfied.
It's going to be a long fucking day.
As it turns out, Angela didn't bring a car so I have no choice but to ride with squinty eyes in his mother's people-mover. He offers me the front passenger seat, and before I can tell him I'd rather walk, Jessica elbows everyone out of the way like a bowling ball smashing through pins to get to it first.
I sit beside Angela in the back seat while squinty eyes pouts and angles the rear view mirror to perv on me. Angela, who's a lot clueier than most people in this town asks me about sex hair. I'm happy to oblige, raising my voice for Jessica and Mike's benefit. They share pointed glances like I'm bullshitting and I make up my mind to jump Clark in the parking lot Monday in front of the whole school.
La Push feels like it's in the middle of the Amazon. It's so dense and overrun with trees and shrubbery you could easily imagine getting lost and then eaten by wendigoes. Everywhere you look it's a different shade of green; even the air appears tinged with it. I'm pretty sure I hear wolves howling as well. A whole bunch of them.
I thought they only howl at the moon?
The ride takes around twenty minutes before we all pile out close to what is technically a beach but barely fits a single description of one. Charlie used to take me here when I visited over the summer and nothing has changed. The water is a sketchy deep murky blue, and where sand should be present is rocks, pebbles and broken sea shells. The surf looks hostile, and I secretly pray closet perv gets pulled out by a rip and drowns.
It'll be easier than Edward killing him.
Edward... I don't often say his name. In fact, I don't often think it, but it really is sexy when you think about it, and it more than suits him. I don't know why I kept getting it wrong. He definitely does not look like a Jasper. Edward never looks agonized; when he's not hostile or patronizing, he's broody. Not to mention constantly looking like he wants to slurp my soul through a straw.
The wendigo theory is still on the table.
Squinty eyes leads us down a path to a fire pit surrounded by pieces of large driftwood that people have evidently been using as benches. I take a seat beside Angela while Mike shows off and almost burns himself as he attempts to relight the bonfire.
After ten minutes I'm over it and ready to return home, but that's when squinty eyes, Eric and Tyler decide to grab their boards and hit the water, and there's no way I'm missing this.
Mike doesn't disappoint; he falls off repeatedly, usually in the most undignified positions with his arms and legs akimbo as he hits the surface of the water. It's hilarious as fuck, and I spend the next hour laughing my ass off while Jessica side-eyes me. She believes any attention towards Mike, even mocking him, constitutes as having the hots for him because the girl is as insecure as she is delusional.
Not long after, the surfer boys drag their asses back to the shore and then retreat to squinty eye's mother's minivan to change and get food. When they return it's with several local boys from the reservation.
I immediately recognize one; the younger of the group, Jacob Black. He's the son of Charlie's BFF fishing partner. He's a year younger than me and we used to play together when I vacationed over summer and Christmas. Then when I was fourteen we got busted "getting up to no good"—as Charlie said—in my room. It was completely harmless. He felt me up and I grabbed his dick; that was all. Chalk it up to curiosity. After that Charlie didn't protest when I put my foot down and refused to return.
Jacob's still as adorable as he ever was. Tall, olive-skinned, deep, deep dark eyes, rippling muscles beneath his wool pullover that most sixteen year old boys aren't usually in possession of, and a broad, sunny grin. He's one of those people who smiles so much they have permanent laugh-lines before they're twenty-one.
He immediately motions me over to him and I'm complying without hesitation before I can take a breath.
"Hey, Jake!" I greet him brightly, sitting beside him on the low-level driftwood and nudging him with my shoulder.
"Bella," he replies with as much enthusiasm. "Dad said you were coming back. How are you liking the truck?"
"John Boy?"
"Huh?"
"Oh, it's what I call it," I explain as he cracks up laughing. "Was it your dad's?"
"Yeah. I'm really glad Charlie bought it, too. I'm pretty sure it was going to be my Christmas present this year. It'd take me a lifetime to rebuild the engine."
"Hey, it's not that bad. It saved me from an asshole with no snow chains last month." I don't mention the wendigo supermodel who was really the one responsible for saving me.
"Yeah, it'll do that, but not much else."
"So you build cars, huh?" I note, because what else can I say about John Boy? He's right about it.
"Yeah, when I can. So, Bella...?" His voice lowers and he leans closer to me. He does not smell like Windex.
"Hmm?"
"What's that guy's problem? He keeps glaring at me."
I don't need to look up to know he's talking about squinty eyes and in reply I sigh loudly. "He's a creeper who cannot take a hint. Seriously, I've lost count of the amount of times I've told him to fuck off already," I relay in only half a whisper.
His grin broadens and he chuckles lightly. "Like that is he?"
"Ye—"
"Hey, Bella," Lauren cuts me off, "I was just telling Tyler how it's too bad none of the Cullens made it today. Didn't anyone invite them?" she says knowing full well I invited Clark.
I suck my breath in stiffly through my nose and talk myself out of kicking up an eruption of stones and shattered beach shells in her face. "I invited—"
"The Cullens don't come here," a boy interjects before I can finish.
I turn to stare at him. He's sitting on the other side of Jacob, but he looks older than the both of us, not to mention twice as buff. He meets my eyes only briefly, but there's something really aggro behind his, before he stares off into the Amazon jungle, his brow all furrowed and low.
"What do you mean...?" I begin only to be cut off for a third time, by Jacob.
"—So, Bella, is Forks driving you mental yet?" he asks, pretty hastily, as if it was his intention to quickly distract me.
"Are you kidding? I absolutely love it," I completely bullshit with over the top enthusiasm, making Jake's sunshiny grin immediately reappear, but my thoughts quickly stray back to the Cullens don't come here comment.
It was such a weird thing to say, but it got me thinking. Maybe sex hair didn't reject me after all. Maybe there was some skirmish between him, or the middle aged wrestler, and one the local boys and they're now banned from coming within a five mile radius.
Could happen.
All I know, is I need to know more, and from the shifty, nervous look in Jacob's eye he knows more than he's letting on.
"So, Jake, wanna walk down the beach with me?" I put to him, deliberately lowering the tone of my voice as well as my lashes.
His cheeks immediately turn ruddy and he jumps to his feet. "Sure!"
Jesus boys in this town are over eager.
Closet perv openly sulks. I ignore him despite feeling his eyes boring into my back until we're at least half a mile away.
Despite shivering into my jacket and clenching my jaw so my teeth don't chatter from the frigid wind gusts, I don't beat around that bush. "So who's that older guy who was sitting next to you?" Jake's expression subtly clouds until I realize my question comes off as if I'm into him. "I mean, what's his beef with the Cullens?" I amend.
"Just... they're not allowed to come onto the reservation," he says cryptically, which only creates a thousand more questions than it does answers.
"So who'd they kill?" I joke.
He chuckles again and half shrugs. "I'm not really allowed to talk about it."
"Huh?" I utter understandably confused. "Hey, come on, share the goss. I won't tell anyone."
"Hmm, well...do you like scary stories?" he ventures, sounding even vaguer.
"Sure," I say brightly. It's true, I do.
"Do you know any of the Quileute legends?" he asks after a while of appearing to deliberate with himself.
"No. I don't think so..."
"There's all kind of stories that reference the bible, and then some that are deep within mythology. Then there are the theories that we descended from wolves." He sort of smirks to himself as if he realizes how it sounds, before he turns to meet my gaze squarely.
"Huh," I say when no other words form.
"Yeah..."
"That's where the stories about the cold ones come into play." His voice is casual, but something behind it makes my blood freeze.
"Cold ones?" I echo with bated breath. Okay sex hair? Definitely cold. I can still feel the way he held me in his arms, without a speck of warmth in his skin, but it was a cold that wasn't oppressive or perverse. It was...comforting.
But then my opinion of him in lieu of my recent nighttime interludes can't exactly be trusted.
"The stories of them date back as long as the wolves," he continues on, either ignoring or not noticing my reaction. "My grandfather first told me about them when I was young. He was apparently the one who made the treaty with the Cullens to keep them off our land."
"...The treaty?" I repeat again, beginning to sound like a dumbass.
"Yeah. My grandfather was a tribal leader, and the cold ones...are the natural enemy of the wolf." His voice drops to a mumble and he angles his head slightly away from me.
His ears are turning red, I notice, which means he's embarrassed by his own family legends and doesn't believe any of them, but I'm undeterred. I need to know more.
"So what are the natural enemies of wolves? Foxes...?" I ask dubiously. Is sex hair a nine-tailed fox?
I knew it!
He scoffs and his face relaxes, but he's still as uptight as hell. "They weren't really wolves like you know them, but wolves who turn into men. Kinda like...werewolves." He's continuing to shy away from me.
Werewolves?
"I'm sorry, what?" I say blankly, realizing I'm not going to get anything from him but fairy tales.
"I know," he agrees, blushing adorably again. "Werewolves, and well...do you know what the natural enemy of a werewolf is?"
I have no idea, but I wrack my brain for plausible answers nonetheless. "Um...wendigoes?"
He laughs warmly and shakes his head. "No. The cold ones are."
"So what are the cold ones?" I ask a little too impatiently.
"They're creatures that feed on humans."
I only stare vacantly for several moments without words. "I thought you said they aren't wendigoes?"
"Wendigoes are dog-like. The cold ones don't phase into an animal."
"Okay, so..." I urge him to continue while my brain function temporarily shuts down.
"Anyway," he pauses and picks up a pebble that he skims along the choppy tide, "the cold ones claimed they weren't like the others, that they were civilized and only hunted animals, so my grandfather made a treaty with them. The wolves wouldn't hunt them if they stayed off our land."
"Okay...so what has this story got to do with the Cullens?" I ask confused.
"They were the Cullens," he states completely ironically.
"Related to the Cullens...?" I guess, but I already know sex hair is cold and has super powers. What Jake has disclosed is not new information.
"No, they're the very same Cullens," he says pointedly, appearing amused by my reaction. "There's two new members, a female and male, but they're the same ones."
"Um, what?"
"My grandfather's grandfather knew Carlisle. He's been coming back to this area before it was populated by the pale faces." He winks.
I laugh but it's stiff and unnatural. "Okay...so what are these cold ones, Jake?" I get to the punchline before I faint.
"They drink blood."
"B-blood," I stammer. "Like vamp..." I can't say it, because...well, they're not supposed to be out in the daylight! What is this bullshit?
"Yep, vampires." His laughter increases, no doubt by the expression on my face this time. "You look freaked, Bella."
"You tell scary stories well," I say dazed, making a mental note to watch Interview with the Vampire when I get home.
"Pretty nuts, right, but anyway, Dad doesn't like us talking about it."
"Don't stress, I'll take it to the grave." After I corner sex hair, that is.
"I guess I just broke the treaty, huh?" he puts to me, his eyebrows raised as if I'm supposed to have any idea what he's talking about.
"I'm sorry?"
"We weren't supposed to spill on their secret identity."
"Okay..." I stare out toward the edge of the ocean for no other reason other than to attempt to get hold of myself. I kind of feel like throwing a hissy, to be frank.
"Seriously, don't tell your dad, or anything. He got pissed when he heard we'd stopped going to the hospital after Carlisle started working there." His tone is suddenly serious, and when I turn to glance at him, there's something beseeching behind his eyes. Like he'll get grounded for spilling on native secrets to ignorant white girls like me.
"Promise." But vampire? Motherfucking vampire? "So, um, do vampires smell like Windex?"
"What?" He starts laughing again. "I don't think they smell like anything."
"Huh."
"It's silly, right? Superstitious and all that."
"Not silly, in-interesting," I stammer, gulping thickly.
"Bella!" My name is suddenly chorused from a distance as I instinctively groan.
"God, here he comes..." I mutter. "Can that assface seriously get a fucking clue!?" I burst, aggravated, but it's not over squinty eyes. According to Anne Rice, vampires can't have sex, and that really bums me out.
"Want me to fuck him up?" Jake practically murmurs in my ear.
"God, yes," I all but moan, before turning toward the pervert running toward me. "What do you want?" I demand when he's within hearing distance. Jessica looks all smug, like she's about to tell him "I told you so". No doubt she's been filling him in on how gross I think he is. It makes me like her a smidge if only because she's not without her uses.
"We're packing up. It looks like rain," he answers, getting all mopey again.
I glance toward the sky. It's becoming as depressed as my libido. "Fine," I grumble.
"Hey, it was nice to see you again, Bella," Jake says, drawing my attention back to him.
"You too," I say honestly, because it really was. "Next time your father comes to visit Charlie, come with?" God knows I'm gonna need a backup plan now, and Jacob is lush.
His face immediately brightens, his grin turning apocalyptic. "Sure! I will."
I follow behind Jessica back to squinty eye's car trying to find contradictions in Jacob's story. Vampires are supposed to be dead, sleep in coffins, and get burned by the sun. They're not supposed to be creepy Russian supermodels with weird eyes who can cast sex spells on you.
Jake has to be wrong. He has to be.
I pretend to be car sick on the way home so no one will talk to me, while I try not to have palpitations.
That beautiful, creepy, grifting bastard! He doesn't want to fuck me, he wants to eat me!