out of reach of the waves.
There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans
floated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them.
The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment,
but for now the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.
We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of
driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before.
There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric
and the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood
from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a
teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.
"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on
one of the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping
excitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one
of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.
"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.
"You'll like this then — watch the colors." He lit another small branch
and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up
the dry wood.
"It's blue," I said in surprise.
"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it
where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me. Thankfully,
Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed his attention.
I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.
After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the
nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide
pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the
only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the
other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're
seven and with your dad. It reminded me of Edward's request — that I not
fall into the ocean.
Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike,
and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other
girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I
waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I
got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a huge smile
when he saw that I was coming.
The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods.
The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent
laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter
around me. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots
below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually I broke
through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore
again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to
the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely
drained were teeming with life.
I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The
others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on
the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the
largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural
aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated
ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the
edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the
rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes
wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return. I was
completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered
what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying
if he were here with me.
Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. I
tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell
a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my
jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.
When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had
multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black
hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation
come to socialize.
The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a
share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle.
Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I
noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me
in interest. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches
and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the
oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with
him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and
the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.
It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to
be around — she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter.
She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking
about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at
times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And
then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I
knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.
During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky,
darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the
beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started
to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the
waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were
gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike — with Jessica
shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the
local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time
they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with
Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had
thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around
the circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy who had
acted as spokesperson.
A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to
take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had
long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his
neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were
dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just
a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very
pretty face. However, my positive opinion of his looks was damaged by the
first words out of his mouth.
"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"
It was like the first day of school all over again.
"Bella," I sighed.
"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You
bought my dad's truck."
"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. "You're Billy's son. I
probably should remember you."
"No, I'm the youngest of the family — you would remember my older
sisters."
"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown
us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We
were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kicked
up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.
"Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I
would recognize them now.
"No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington
State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer — she lives in Hawaii now."
"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year
older than I was.
"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.
"I love it. It runs great."
"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relived when Charlie
bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we
had a perfectly good vehicle right there."
"It's not that slow," I objected.
"Have you tried to go over sixty?"
"No," I admitted.
"Good. Don't." He grinned.
I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offered
in my truck's defense.
"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with
another laugh.
"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.
"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I
could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he
added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.
"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes
open for you." As if I knew what that was. He was very easy to talk with.
He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was
learning to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.
"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked — in what I imagined was an
insolent tone — from across the fire.
"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling at
me again.
"How nice." She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her
pale, fishy eyes narrowed.
"Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying
to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today.
Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her expression of concern was
unconvincing.
"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy asked before
I could respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He was really closer to a
man than a boy, and his voice was very deep.
"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway
toward him.
"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject,
ignoring her question.
Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CD
he held. She was distracted.
I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away
toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come
here, but his tone had implied something more — that they weren't
allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on
me, and I tried to ignore it without success.
Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"
"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. He grinned
understandingly.
I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a
sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better
ideas. I hoped that young Jacob was as yet inexperienced around girls, so
that he wouldn't see through my sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting.
"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked, trying to imitate
that way Edward had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes. It
couldn't have nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jacob jumped up
willingly enough.
As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood
seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea
to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the
pockets of my jacket.
"So you're, what, sixteen?" I asked, trying not to look like an idiot as
I fluttered my eyelids the way I'd seen girls do on TV.
"I just turned fifteen," he confessed, flattered.
"Really?" My face was full of false surprise. "I would have thought you
were older."
"I'm tall for my age," he explained.
"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked archly, as if I was hoping for a
yes. I sounded idiotic to myself. I was afraid he would turn on me with
disgust and accuse me of my fraud, but he still seemed flattered.
"Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished
I can go up as much as I want — after I get my license," he amended.
"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to
be hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in with the
youngsters, trying to make it clear that I preferred Jacob.
"That's Sam — he's nineteen," he informed me.
"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked
innocently.
"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He
looked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I'd thought
I'd heard in Sam's voice.
"Why not?"
He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say
anything about that."
"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." I tried to make my smile
alluring, wondering if I was laying it on too thick.
He smiled back, though, looking allured. Then he lifted one eyebrow and
his voice was even huskier than before.
"Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.
"I love them," I enthused, making an effort to smolder at him.
Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out
like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on
one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree.
He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his
