Chapter 7: Adjustments

The third morning waking up in Jamerica's bedroom was easier. There was no terror that greeted me. My emotions were calm enough that I could almost pretend to be waking up in Charlie's house. Or more accurately, I could almost imagine it as another move - unfamiliar for sure, but not scary. The sounds greeting me were not yet familiar, per say, but a form of predictability had begun to seep into my mind. More importantly, before consciousness had fully set in, my brain had supplied where I was, and most importantly that there was no danger. The opposite was true, actually. This house was full of unconditional love, a foreign concept before, as the idea that family would be the shelter from the storms of life was something that had never existed in my world previously. For the first time in my life, I had experienced being wrapped in a soft, fluffy warmth. It had penetrated me from my pores to my bones and caused me a yearning to hold tightly to this sensation. If this was the feeling most people associated with family, then I could see why they talk about family as if it was the centre of their world.

Reneé might have been a ton of fun and she was my best friend, but this is not a feeling I would associate with her. She was too flighty and spontaneous. And Charlie was so much her opposite, yet he was awkward and independent. When I compared the feelings Jamerica's family gave me verses my emotions regarding my own parents, I would pick this feeling every time. The problem was that I missed my parents, despite the feelings.

Aside from the feelings, the basic elements of life were becoming less encumbered. Dressing was slightly easier, as I had more a sense of what Jamerica had in her dresser and closet. It really was the little things that gave me a sense of calm. Hopefully, the lack of anxiety wouldn't end too soon, especially as nervousness had been my constant companion as Reneé's as well as Charlie's daughter.

Allowing the positive gifts of what Jamerica had done to me to penetrate my being, desiring to sear it to my memory, I pulled my knees to my chest. Before too many minutes had passed, my brain reminded me of the consequences of staying in bed in this household. Not wanting to face her parents' speeches again, I got out of bed with a smile and a feeling of deep contentment. It was a wonderful experience. Despite the temporary nature of what was happening to me, this morning filled with warm affection and a pleasant mood; I was determined to enjoy it. Like a rollercoaster, the ride would end, but I was betting that the joy in what happened in the meantime would stay with me for the rest of my life.

Between getting up earlier and my increased ease, by the time that I was ready for the day Jamerica's mom was still getting the boys up. Deciding to be helpful, I went down to the kitchen to make breakfast. The last two mornings her mom had made scrambled eggs with a few veggies in them and then toast. Wanting to make sure the family would like the food, I copied her.

My first surprise was that there was no traditional milk in the fridge. Vaguely remembering Renée talking once about how milk wasn't a Native American food, and thus discouraged by the Quileutes, it dawned on me that many of the dishes I had made over the years wouldn't work for this family. The difference between us became more glaring, causing my eyes to water. By living in Jamerica's body, those staples I took for granted wouldn't be recommended. There would be no lasagne or Grandma Swan's stroganoff. They seemed like such minor things to be crying over, but my eyes wouldn't stop watering. Clearing my eyes with the back of my hand, I continued in my preparations, choosing to use water to replace the milk for the eggs.

Nearly done, I jumped a mile when Mrs. White asked, "What you doin'?"

She had snuck up on me.

Turning to her, pleased to learn that my cheeks didn't warm, even though I was nervous and embarrassed, I uttered, afraid of her being upset once more, "I promised to do better, so I made breakfast. Was that wrong?"

She eyed me from head to toe before speaking, "Not wrong, Jamerica, but it is a surprise. I can't remember one time when you voluntarily made food. Not to mention you're not wearing makeup, you're clothes are different than those you usually choose, and you talk like a White girl."

Stammering, I answered, "Sorry."

"Care to explain?" she pressed.

The woman was more intimidating than Charlie and caused me to want to bare my soul, but, at the same time, I had really begun to enjoy myself. Not trusting my mouth, I simply shook my head no.

She came over to me and looked at me sternly. "I know you're growing into your own woman, but that doesn't mean I'm still not your mama. I would fight the world off if you needed me to, but to do that you have to tell me what's going on."

Still not trusting myself to speak I nodded my head in the affirmative.

She evaluated me critically once more before grabbing two of the plates and putting them on the table.

We were all eating with Mrs. White asking short questions about our preparedness for the day when Mr. White joined us. He took a few bites and then asked Mrs. White, "There's something different about the eggs. What'd you change?"

"Jamerica made them," she answered.

His eyes opened wide and he seemed to be purposefully chewing his food. "Is that right?" he muttered between bites.

Clearly my desire to help out had exposed me, rather than my intension of blending in more, ruining my good mood. How he was going to confront me in the car had my stomach in knots, but I forced myself to eat the last two bites, as to not draw more attention, and asked to excuse myself.

I got the all clear from her mother, so went up to my room, tidied, and finished putting all of the needed things together for school. At least Jamerica would have a clean room to return to. Still nervous and not having her Dad ask for me yet, I went to the room the boys shared, made their beds, and generally tidied up.

"Let's go, Jamerica," he hollered, "time's a wastin'."

Not wanting to face him and the interrogation that was coming, I found a few more things to do.

When he yelled again his irritation was clear, so I grabbed Jamerica's bag and scurried down and into the cruiser.

We pulled out of the driveway and he stated gruffly, "You're not in trouble. Making breakfast, except pouring cereal for your brothers is unusual for sure, but nothing to call the National Guard about." He paused before continuing, "Care to explain?"

"I heard what you said and I wanted to help out. Since I was awake early enough, I was just trying to do what you said," I told him while my eyes started to water once more.

I wasn't usually such an emotionally expressive person, and chalked it up to the body. Maybe Jamerica cried easily.

"You PMSing?" he asked, looking over at me through the corner of his eye.

Shaking my head no, the question was disconcerting. His statement made it clear that crying wasn't Jamerica's norm. My only remaining guess was simply that the overwhelmingness of the situation was getting to me.

Taking in a deep breath, as if he was trying to figure things out, he took a minute before stating, "Well, making breakfast is helpful. Just remember that eggs are a special treat. Maybe next time oatmeal, okay?"

Nodding in agreement, my fears that I had been found out nearly evaporated.

As we pulled up to the school he stated, "And I like the more natural, less revealing version of you."

"I heard you, Dad," I told him, even though the title felt odd on my lips. "I'm trying."

His eyes seemed to flash momentarily, and the corners of his mouth turned downward for less than a second.

My body tensed, expecting that I had finally said the thing that would expose me.

"Well, keep it up," he insisted, instead, with a smile. "Remember to be proud of who you are and your heritage. You have something precious that no one can take from you: people who love you until the day you die."

"Okay," I answered tentatively, having the internal sense of being jerked around, even though my brain reminded me that he had been more like Charlie than anything, and was likely a very straightforward, you get what you see kind of person.

He sighed like we had taken two steps back before uttering, "Have a good day at school."

Nodding, while removing my bag and myself from the car, I then headed to my first class. I was early, but that was fine. Pulling out the book for English, I picked up reading it from where I had left off.

"Good morning, Jamerica," the teacher offered me, walking into the room.

"Good morning, sir," I responded, embarrassed that I didn't remember his name and then buried my head back into my book.

By the time class started it dawned on me that despite my wishes and prayers the last two night, I actually had no idea how long this situation would last. Once my mind was able to absorb that truth, as distasteful as it might be, it didn't take long for me to determine that blending in was going to be critical to my survival. In order to do that learning the names of my teachers and fellow students, at least those near my seat, seemed like a smart start. Especially since, thus far, the only name I knew was Mandy, who had clearly had it out for Jamerica.

Discretely looking around the room in order to at least learn a few faces, I realised that I was the darkest-skinned person. It was nice to not be so pale, in my opinion, and the idea that I might not burn while sunbathing was lovely. Nevertheless, this epiphany, even though it was plainly obvious, once I took a moment to notice, jarred me. For the first time since becoming Jamerica I wondered if how I looked might impact my ability to make friends in similar, yet different ways than it had in Phoenix. It was a sobering thought.

Unlike my first day in Forks, I paid attention to each time the teacher called on someone and began to learn names. I also found out that the teacher was Mr. Barwick, which was helpful. The class, Earth Science, being a review was useful, as I didn't need to focus on the material.

On the way to my next class, Mandy came up to me. I tried to just move past her, but the two girls who had been with her in the bathroom flanked her, making it difficult.

"Still pulling out last year's clothes, I see," Mandy jeered.

Students began to stop and create a circle around us, no doubt wanting to watch the show. Certainly this was something I had experienced in Phoenix. It was almost comforting in its familiarity. There was so much about being Jamerica I had no idea how to handle or what to say, but mean girls was not on that list.

"Wow, Mandy," I replied with a fake smile and my words heavy with sarcasm, "Thank you for noticing my clothes. What an honour."

She blinked for a few seconds like she couldn't believe that I had spoken a comeback.

Truly, I was proud of myself. It was almost exactly how I had imagined responding all those times in Phoenix. Maybe those daydreams hadn't completely gone to waste.

"I thought you had higher standards," she eventually rebutted. "You're such a wash up now."

"Oh, I have higher standards than to be a sheep like you," I retorted, while the crowd "oohh"ed, as if I had insulted her. Beginning to realise that this wasn't going to end well, I said, "Excuse me, please."

She didn't move and instead told me, "Any sympathy you got from your beloved grandmother dying is long past. No one cares about you anymore. You're just a milato who doesn't belong anywhere, let alone the honour to breath the same air as me."

The chorus of "oooohhhh"s were louder.

It was a low insult for sure. A part of me wanted to defend Jamerica's beautiful family and other part wanted to run away. Before I could do either, though, Edward was to the left of Mandy's lackey.

"Principal is coming," he stated in a tone that set chills into the atmosphere and the students started to scamper away.

The hairs on the back of my neck raised, my heart rate increased, I began to sweat, and my brain began to plan ways to get away from him. My reaction had all the indicators that he was extremely dangerous. My response to his proximity caught me off guard. It had to do with this body, since I had never experienced any resemblance of fear around him prior, even on that first day in Biology when he looked as if I had ruined his life by smelling like the sewer. Over and over I forced my mind to recall our second encounter. He was frustrating, sure, but kind and curious. The mind over body thing was only barely working, so I checked his eyes. They were golden, which helped relax me. Nevertheless, it took me multiple times of reminding myself that he had only been hateful towards me when his eyes were black to release most of the tension in my muscles, but the fear lingered. The only similarity to his proximity between yesterday and today was that it filled my whole world.

Our prorogued eye gazing was interrupted when Mandy and her lackies moved past me, and she purposely bumped into me.

"Oh sorry," she stated insincerely, "didn't see you there."

I snorted, took one brief look at Edward through my hair, refusing to get lost in him again, before once more began walking towards my class. Despite how much Edward scared me, I felt as if I owed him one. So, taking a chance, while passing him, I looked up into his eyes and with earnestness told him, "Thank you."

As soon as the words left my mouth, he asked, "May I accompany you to class?"

Confused at his question, I nonetheless answered, "It's a free country."

His eyes bored into mine, like he had done on my first day, the very first time we had locked eyes in the cafeteria, only this time he didn't look frustrated. Instead, to my complete confusion, he smiled like he was laughing at his own joke.

Giving up trying to decipher Edward, I started walking towards my class, attempting to focus on what might be expected of me.

We had gone about fifteen feet when he commented off-handedly, "You handled Mandy well."

Shrugging, I was uncertain of what to say.

I had found another benefit of being in Jamerica's body. She was taller than me, and so I didn't feel so small next to Edward. It was nice. However, the sense that he was a serial killer wouldn't leave me. Not wanting to think about it more, I pushed it aside, reminding myself of our conversation upon his return, after he had been sick, and we had done the lab together. Sure, he could be scary, but he could also be kind and gentlemanly.

He scowled slightly, probably because I had yet to answer him.

We said nothing more and when I got to the door of my class he continued down the hall like he hadn't been walking with me. My conclusion was that he thought I wasn't worth his time, and breaking up the confrontation was him doing his good deed for the day. Maybe his family reported back one kind act they had done as they sat down together for dinner. I could imagine the children of a doctor doing that, especially the way Charlie had defended Dr. Cullen.

Between learning my teacher's name, it was Mrs. Anderson, and my fellow students, while covering the Great War, and trying to figure out how come my body had responded to Edward so differently than Jamerica's, my mind was tired by the end of the class. Once more English, my next class, came to my rescue. Delving into literature took my mind off everything else and allowed me to completely relax.

At lunch I sat alone again in the sophomore section, eating my packed food. I noticed my body flirting even more heavily with Mike, while Jessica scowled. My body snatcher's behaviour was completely juvenile and a waste of my time, irrelevant of how indignant it made me. The warning bell jarred me from my musings, as I had spent the whole time trying to decide if I should tell Jamerica's parents the truth. Her parents indicating their awareness that something was off encouraged honesty, but despite my effort, I was unable to predict their reaction, which left me unwilling to start the conversation. One option that came to mind was to confront the person living in my body. I was afraid to do so, in the chance that I would be forced into a psych evaluation. It wasn't hard to imagine her denying the whole thing and making it look like I was mentally unstable.

P.E. once more turned out to be helpful, keeping my thoughts away from the mysteries and problems in my life. It also helped that I didn't hurt anyone or get hurt myself. It was such a welcomed relief from what usually happened.

The last class of my day was my worst class by far, as it was Quillayute. It was beautiful, and I had heard it on the reservation when I had been younger and visited Charlie. Nonetheless, it being an intermediate class meant I was beyond lost, even though I had spent most of my study time last night trying to understand it.

Walking home once more, I started on my homework as soon as I got in. By the time Mrs. White walked in the door with the boys I was done, except for Quillayute. I went downstairs, helped Martin with his homework, and then entertained him and the youngest brother, Dameion I had learned, until dinner. Mrs. While served another dish that was new to me, but delicious nonetheless.

Throughout the meal I debated the benefits and costs of asking for help with my Quillayute. Trying to figure out which option kept me safer was a challenge, as there were risks either way. Thus, with trepidation, when we were almost finished dinner I mentioned my need to Mrs. White.

"Oh yeah?" she asked like my statement was dubious.

Nodding yes, I said nothing.

"After the boys are down," she decided. "Clear and do the dishes, please," she added before getting up taking the boys with her.

I washed the dishes, while she started their bath. When there was nothing more for me to clean, I went and collected my books.

When Mrs. White came to help she looked at me in accusation.

"I don't remember some of the basics from last year and am lost," I told her.

"Uh-huh," she muttered before putting out her hand.

I gave her the worksheet that had been sent home.

She handed it back to me and then started explaining first with the sounds and how they were written. Then, she added some of the basics of grammar. As was probably her plan, she gave me just enough to complete the worksheet that had been sent home.

She was a great teacher and I told her so before heading up to bed.

When Mr. White got home her voice travelled up the stairs and through the cracked door, "That girl is definitely not my daughter."

His answer was too soft for me to hear.

It was many minutes later when she stated, "Her and Leah grew up speaking Quillayute along with most of the kids that still live on the reservation. There's no way my daughter can't complete a conjugation worksheet."

"Maybe it was her excuse to spend time with you," he countered, sounding frustrated.

"We're going to the rez on Saturday and I'm checking in with Sue. If something is amiss, you can bet that Leah's in on it."

I didn't hear the rest and sleep was hard to find. Tomorrow was Friday. For the first time, I didn't pray to return to my life as I fell asleep. I had no illusions that this would come to an end on Saturday at the very least when the truth would come out. Despite the fear that filled me, there was also peace, because every day in this family was a blessing and I would take every moment given to me. Eventually the jig would be up, but I wasn't going to take for granted the wondrous feelings being a member of their family gave me. My wanting more of these feelings might make me a selfish person, but I was a victim, and it was completely out of my control, so hopefully some grace would be given to me.