Saturday nights weren't always this hectic, but they certainly were this anxiety-inducing. The hundredth time of checking myself over hadn't done a damned thing to soothe my insecurities. Really, if anything, it just seemed to worsen them. What if he thinks I'm some hideous hag? What if my dress is too short and he goes around telling everyone I'm easy? What if my hair gets frizzed by the humidity and ruins my whole look? No matter what, the worries kept coming, until I was flopping on the nearest surface—which happened to be my desk chair—and burrowing my face down into my hands. The heartiest groan of all hearty groans escaped me, surely evoking laughs from whatever flitting entities inhabited my room.

"Fuck," I said simply, knowing if I said it any louder, Jared would hear and—damn him—he'd come and lecture me on language, of all things. The jerk took any opportunity to assert big-brother authority over me, and it was any wonder how he hadn't sniffed out my nocturnal plans and, somehow, planted a threat in the soles of tonight's date. Knowing the guy—his name was Tom, bless him—and his fraidy-cat personality, he would have certainly turned tail and ran, so the more minutes that went by without a last-minute phone call, the better for my conscience. Who wouldn't go mad with rage if their sibling cut the ties on a date for the fifth time that month? I wouldn't hold it against my heart to have a fatal arrest if I did end up dateless for the night. I could keel over, and I'd probably thank the fates for it, considering I'd commit murder if I spent more than two minutes still living afterwards.

Besides, Jared didn't have the slightest authority over me, aside from an extra ten months that allowed my itty-bitty embryo to develop in the womb, and even if he did—even if he was the freakin' president of Earth—he didn't deserve my patience, or my obedience, or to even hear my beautiful voice. He was just an asshole, and I wasn't going to cater to his ego like his stupid girlfriend did any chance she got. Fucking Kim, and that obsessive, Jared-is-soooo-perfect complex she had going on before the change. Before he suddenly thought Kim was perfect, and I was just a fucking speck of cosmos in the Milky Way.

"Yo, Alissa—you in there?" And would you look at that—speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

I didn't fight the great, ugly scowl as it appeared, but I did fight off the aching fight-or-flee reflex that accompanied it. "What do you want, asshole?"

A pause. Then a sigh. Jared was always one for dramatics; it was any wonder he didn't join drama club. "Just—stay inside tonight. Please. It's not safe, and I don't want to see you hurt."

Huh. That wasn't what I expected—no, not at all. Despite my curiosity at why he pegged me, his little, annoying sister, important enough to ward from venturing outside, I couldn't stop the bark of laughter, even if I wanted to. "Don't pretend to give a flying fuck about me, Jared," I snapped, ignoring the bitterness, hoping he heard the seeping hatred, even through the door. "And besides, I'm not going outside anyway. So be on your way. Toodles!"

Jared didn't leave. I wondered for half a second whether he flinched my tone, the intentional use of angry resentment on my tongue, or stopped for a moment just think about his asshole-ish ways. But then he started speaking— "There's someone who just got done knocking on the door, asking for you. I did you a favor and said you weren't feeling well, so he could go home—"

Oh my god. He didn't. "You… you sent my date home? Home?!" The icy, cutting rage I felt was no match for the bark of my bedroom door, nor the golden metal of my doorknob, and seething, seething, seething, I slammed my door open. Jared was just outside of it, wearing nothing but a pair of cargo shorts and sneakers, and if it were any other day, I would have stuttered some excuse from the vicinity and fled the scene, mortified with embarrassment. But I was filled with rage, and all I wanted to do was punch and hit him until the anger went away and I was filled with nothing but sad humiliation.

How the fuck am I going to find a boyfriend in this living condition? I thought, staring up at Jared with unshed tears, a hole in my chest so big that even my ancestors could see through. "Why do you keep doing this?! I just want someone to care about me! You don't care about me at all! You just want to keep hurting and embarrassing me because you think it's funny! Well, I've got news for you, Jared—my life isn't a freaking joke, okay?! I've got feelings and every time I've ever liked a guy you've ruined everything with your big, fat mouth!"

Silence. Nothing but silence. I was out of breath by the end of my rant, and I didn't bother stopping the tears, even when they ruined my make-up and sent a stream of salty, mascara-infused liquid into my agape mouth, even when they caused Jared's stoic face to crumble into a guilty frown.

"Alissa, I—"

"Fuck you!" I shouted, shoving back at his chest with a fiery vengeance. The shock was enough to send Jared stumbling back, a look of unadulterated remorse masking his stiff, dreary features. "Go the fuck away and never talk to me again! I hate you!"

Jared, looking lost-for-words and utterly speechless, opened his mouth. But nothing would change the effects of what he'd done to me, what he kept doing to innocent boys. No words could fix anything—no affection could make up for the damage caused by his abandonment. So without another word, another look, Jared was gone.

And I was left to crumble, like I always did, with not a single person to turn to except myself.

High school was a silent, deadly repressor of creativity and a social construct built to convey the following words: Fuck learning on your own time. Do things you don't want so you'll get used to it before you hit the real world! Sometimes I wondered how much trouble I'd get into for telling Principal Howard just how annoyed I felt going to school at 8 every morning, but I supposed nothing could be worse than enduring Mrs. Johnson's lovely, gravelly voice every morning. After all, she thought every noise that came from me was a sign of disrespect; the amount of times I received in-school suspension for yawning during a half-bit ramble was almost comical.

Let's just say the number was more than five but less than twenty.

Today was one of those days where I was threatened with suspension, but not given the slip that sealed my fate; this meant I was in a rather great mood by third period. So good, in fact, that it was noticeable. Too noticeable.

"Why do you look so happy, Alis?" the boy sitting beside me asked: name: Jacob Black, status: not friends, in this lifetime or any beyond. "Normally you look like want to kill something."

The boys sitting behind him laughed, as they always did. There was two of them, which meant I'd need a foot alongside my fists if I were to fight their unwanted, unneeded interventions into my super-happy headspace.

That super-happy smile once occupying my mouth disappeared almost instantly. What could I say? Jacob Black and I were not friends, and I nearly hated him more than I hated shepherd's pie. Key word being "nearly." "There's this thing called 'shutting the fuck up' and it's something you should totally get started on doing before I break your fucking nose," I growled in reply, making sure to do my best impression of an ogre while I was at it. No one would be interested in conversing with someone who smiled and glowered like Shrek.

Jacob Black raised his hands in defense, but otherwise took my advice.

Good. He was learning.

"So you mean to say you don't find the chief's son even a little bit attractive?" Kallie, my only and closest friend, asked, looking a bit bewildered, if you'd believe it.

I couldn't help it. I snorted. "Why the hell would I find him attractive? You know I hate him, Kal."

The story between me and Jacob was a short and simple one. Billy Black was a great man—our tribe chief, and the sweetest elder, confined to a wheelchair due to past diabetes complications. He sometimes gave me lessons in the tribal language, and it made me feel much closer to my heritage. His son, on the other hand, had always been a direct nuisance in my life. When we were young and Bella Swan—also known as the love of Jacob's life—still visited, he would always show off to her by throwing mud-pies at me and ridiculing me for being so attached to my older brother, Jared, who I used to follow around when we were young and he wasn't such a hardheaded dunce. Yeah, sure, I was Sissy Lissy and Crybaby Cameron, but surely Jacob felt some sort of remorse for being such an utter ass as a bobble-headed child. Right? Yeah, I thought so, too, until the dirty freshman directly embarrassed me during the start of my sophomore year at La Push High School; he asked what kind of undergarments I regularly wore because he could have sworn he saw me fucking Tommy Long the last week before summer's end. From then on, everyone thought I was a whore, always asking me if I had a thing for backseats or if that was just an accommodation for Tommy's sake.

Yeah, I know. I knew back then, and I still know; Jacob Black's a dickhead, and nothing wouldn't change that one, simple fact.

"O-Oh, right—I forgot Jacob's the one…" Kallie trailed off, looking like a small bean of embarrassment as she hugged herself tight. It make me feel bad for being so straightforward.

"Who decided to make everyone believe I'm a whore?" I smiled drily. "Yep, the very one. I'd rather vomit than look at him like that, Kal."

We were in the school cafeteria for once, sitting by the far wall, just a few tables from Jared's usual. Typically, we avoided anyplace with crowds, but the library was closed for cleaning today, so we didn't really have any choice. We'd swapped our lunches—my peanut-butter-jelly sandwich for her miniature s'mores snacks. "Well… why do you find attractive, then?"

"No one, really," I said, but that was decidedly a lie. I just didn't feel comfortable disclosing who I found attractive in such a loud, public place, crawling with eavesdroppers. And a lot of the people I was thinking about were in here, which made the idea of speaking aloud my attractions that much worse. Though, by Kallie's look, I was just leading her to think she wasn't a trustworthy-enough friend for secrets. "I swear it!"

"Well, we all know how promises work out for you," Kallie said, that accusing look on her face. That damned expression was almost always the leading cause of my downfall.

"Ugh, fine," I said. Even though I really didn't want to talk about this aloud, I knew Kallie would pull it from me eventually, and she wasn't the most patient of people, so waiting around wasn't an option. I was screwed at this point, basically. "I think Paul Lahote's attractive. I also think Embry Call's decently pretty. And Tommy—the boy everyone thinks I've fucked—has a nice ass."

"Anddddd?" Kallie leaned closer.

"And what?"

She rolled her eyes at me, like her cryptic aggravation was meant to be easily decoded. Newsflash: I didn't know what the fuck she wanted. "Who do you find prettier?"

"You'd say, 'more handsome!' if you were going for a masculine approach, but—okay, no need for the fucking glare, sheesh." I gave her the side-eye, then did as I knew she wanted, and mumbled, "Palaot."

"What? What was that?" Kallie was teasing, obviously; she knew exactly what I said. She just wanted to hear me say it again.

"I don't like anyone," I said slowly, so the idea would get stuck in that thick head of hers, "but if we had to go superficially here, Paul would out-beat the others."

"He is rather cute," Kallie said agreeably. "Too bad he's a meathead."

I rolled my eyes, but nodded at the term, mumbling, "Yeah. Too, too bad."

Paul Lahote was what you'd call a complete and utter brute. He was notorious for his fights, and his suspensions; rumors had it that his knuckles were calloused from all the times he'd used them on another kid's face. Just knocking into him in the halls could be enough of a cause for him to go ape-shit and lay one or two fists into you. The only parts of him that came out of the fights injured were his hands, and even then, it was just busted skin from the amount of times he opened a wound on the other guy. I couldn't say I didn't find it hot, because I totally did; I just didn't want Kallie thinking I had a type. Then she'd try and score me another date, and I'd have another reason to hate Jared with a burning passion.

"Speaking of Paul, I don't see him anywhere. Where is he?" Kallie turned in her chair to give the cafeteria a far sweep. I did the same, but thankfully, I wasn't the one looking into a wall so I didn't have to move around in my chair. Now that she'd mentioned Paul's absence, I noticed Jared's absence as well. I felt my nostrils flare as assumptions whizzed by in my head.

"Jared's not here either," I mumbled to her, "but his girlfriend is, so he's definitely not skipping to bang her in his backseat." I felt bad for thinking it, and saying it aloud, but really, I'd caught the two of them fooling around outside before. It wasn't far from the truth—anything but, actually.

"You think they're together?" Kallie asked me, turning to look at me with those pretty, almond-shaped eyes of hers.

I quirked a smile. "I doubt it." I remembered that Jared and Paul used to be really great friends, back before sophomore year. I'd even go so far as to say they were best friends. I used to follow Jared around like a little duckling would its mother, and wherever Jared went, Paul came too, so the two of us were very acquainted with one another. So much so that we were each other's first kiss.

After Jared became a junior, the two of them stopped hanging out as much, and Jared became less thrilled whenever I'd ask to go along with him wherever. I knew the two of them were still in cahoots with each other, so it definitely wasn't due to a fall-out; it just took longer than I'd care to admit for me to realize I was becoming an annoyance for Jared. And he started thinking it was weird to have his little sister tag along whenever he'd go to the movies or the beach. He even got Paul to ditch me, which was my ultimate reason for developing a grudge against my brother. His sudden interest and respect for Sam Uley did nothing to help our relationship, either. It just made it worse, especially when he dropped everything to become one of the man's cronies.

I knew the two of them were together. I just didn't know if Paul was getting inducted into their gang, or if the two just wanted to hang out for old time's sake. I had my suspicions, but I didn't want to voice them to Kallie, not when the girl was ignorant to the real root of Jared and I's broken relationship.

Keep your secrets, Alissa. You never know when one will become your greatest weapon.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch—and the end of our conversation. I smiled. "Well, I guess I'll see you in English, Kal," I told her, rushing to put all my waste onto a tray without dropping anything to the linoleum floor. I wanted away from the cafeteria before Kallie could interrogate me on my blatant lying. "Bye!" I went scurrying along, dropping the plastic tray right into a garbage bin as I passed by.

I could hear her call after me, but I didn't reply. After all, it'd just give her the motivation to run me down and interrogate me. And she wouldn't like the answers.

"Dad, I'm home!" I yelled, depositing my backpack by the doorway. "What's for dinner?"

"Nothing you'd like." That was Dad, all dry humor, no smiles. A very serious man. He'd give Leah Clearwater and her sour attitude a run for her money.

Not liking the implication, I walked into the kitchen. I was unsurprised to find he was right. Pork-chops and corn chowder, lemonade as a refreshment. I felt internal-me gag at the sight of it.

"I don't understand why you can't just make lasagna or something."

Dad made a face, like he was caught between scowling and scoffing. He pointed a wooden spoon at the chowder. "You'd like it if you tried it, Alissa.

"Nah, I'd rather slowly dehydrate in the Grand Canyon," I said wryly, smirking when I caught the eye-roll. Mission accomplished. "Now, show me to the Hamburger Helper—"

"—Hey, Dad, is it alright if Paul stays over tonight?"

I stiffened. I felt whatever words were about to come out of my mouth die right there, hidden beneath months of bitterness rioting in my throat. Taking a note from Dad, I scowled, hard.

Dad didn't notice my internal struggles. Not that I wanted him to. "Of course. Alissa doesn't like my cooking, so there'll be plenty of food."

I turned slightly, noticing both Jared and Paul in the kitchen's opening. They looked a little worse for the wear, both sporting purple bags underneath their eyes and looking totally wrecked. Surprising—no new bruises or cuts. That meant Paul hadn't gotten into a fight.

Jared caught my eye, but immediately looked to the ground when he saw the way I was looking at him. I didn't feel the need to fake affection for him, not after the past few months, and especially not after last night. Dad's presence couldn't lift the storm pressing down on my shoulders.

"Sounds good, Mr. Cameron. Thanks." It was Paul who spoke. Though I wasn't surprised. Jared had a tendency to go quiet and guilty anytime I even looked at him. It was a power I enjoyed having.

Wanting to spare a glance at my brother's best friend, I was surprised—and a little bit bewildered—to find a much different-looking Paul. He had his hair cut short, and he looked taller, bigger, stronger. Even through his shirt, his abs were noticeable, as were his arms, both looking bigger than they were just a week ago. And even though he was already tall, he was even taller now; he reached the wooden head of our doorway now. It made me think back to when I was thirteen and he was fourteen, and how he had to lean down to reach my height. Puberty hit him hard, and puberty hit me late. Even now, it felt like puberty was avoiding me, even though the doctors said I'd gotten my fill of it at age fifteen.

I couldn't help marveling at Paul, an eyebrow raising high at the way he looked now. I had never expected for him to go from handsome to fucking hot.

I felt embarrassed when I realized he noticed my gaze, and I quickly turned my back to instead look at my father. Surely that'd get rid of the feeling of heat lurking at the back of my neck. Too late. The thought of Paul noticing me, though, was hard to get rid of it, and I continued to thnk about it and feel embarrassed about it. An unfortunate predicament, considering the apple of my thoughts was standing mere feet away.

"Look at Paul, Kallie—why can't you have good manners like him?" Dad asked me, giving me that stern look he had anytime I did something he didn't like.

I rolled my eyes. I found I was doing a lot of that these days. "Can I go to Kallie's tonight? Her family's having spaghetti." It wasn't lasagna, but I could go for anything that wasn't corn chowder.

Jared was the one to open his yap this time. "Are you trying to go out with Joshua again? I thought you gave up on that." I turned back around, sneering when I saw the look on his face. The brotherly look.

"Joshua is ancient history, dear brother," I said acidly. "Didn't you hear? Tommy's my latest attempt at a conquest. That way, the rumors won't actually be rumors anymore."

Jared stared at me for a moment. He didn't seem mad, weirdly enough. "Tommy's a man-whore," he pointed out instead.

"Wow, who knew that? Of course he's a man-whore."

"Then why would you want to go out with him?"

"Because I'm bored, and I want a boyfriend."

"You're going to get chlamydia."

"Good. Then you can pay for the doctor's bill with the money you use to get in Kim's pants."

Jared actually growled at that. Huh.

"What, are you a dog now? I thought I was the bitch in the house," I taunted.

Dad grabbed me by my shoulder, squeezing tightly. Ow. "Stop provoking your brother, Alissa," he said warningly. "And language."

Paul clapped Jared on the shoulder, looking like a laugh was caught in his throat. It probably was. I was a comedian, after all. I liked the way smiles and laughs looked on him, I decided; they fitted him far more than scowls and sneers did.

I supposed that Paul knew I was looking at him, because he suddenly turned his gaze over towards me. And that's when my world stopped.

It was like gravity no longer existed. And Jared and Dad weren't in the room. It was just Paul and I—just the two of us—five feet apart, and staring into each other's eyes. Several emotions flitted by in his: shock. Happiness. Longing. Pain. It's almost like a switch kept flickering on and off, as if his feelings kept getting swept in the ocean of brown that was his eyes, and his expression twisted, matching whatever those eyes portrayed.

My voice and breath were caught in my throat. I didn't know what to think, whether to cut eye-contact or faint gleefully. I felt like my entire future was staring straight through me.

"Oh, my God," Jared said, teeth gritted so hard you could hear the grind, and that's when I fell out from my daze. And I realized Paul and I shared a moment, a romantic moment, far longer than we should have.

Paul was grinning before, but the sound of my brother's voice knocked the grin right off his face. "Sorry, man," he muttered, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "I didn't—"

Jared grabbed Paul's shoulder, and shoved him into the living room, not sparing me or our father a glance. The moment they got out of eyesight, the bickering started. Then the shouting.

"Well, that was awkward," I said. My heart was pounding out of my chest.

Dad gave me an unreadable glance before turning and getting back to cooking.

What the fuck just happened?