Author's Notes:

Summary:

For the most part, Kim has floated through life. She's lighthearted, practical, and occasionally uproariously funny. She believes in making her own destiny and doesn't sweat the small stuff. When she's uprooted from her quiet life in Flagstaff to spend the last two years of high school in Forks, she imagines it will be a largely insignificant chapter of her life, a mere prequel to the excitement of college and beyond. But Kim's perspective begins to change as she discovers a new, secret, dangerous world she cannot make sense of or control, and a boy whose unwavering deterministic beliefs challenge her to question everything.

Disclaimers:

No copyright infringement intended. I'm not profiting off this story, just writing for fun!

This story does not reflect the real lives, culture, or religion of the Quileute people. I like this quote from the Burke Museum: "While anthropologists, movie makers, and others may claim to understand it, the spiritual world of the Quileute is a diverse and complex system that only Quileute people are privileged to know deeply about." If you are interested in learning about the Quileute tribe, their official website has quality information (it won't let me add a link sorry).

Trigger Warnings:

This story is rated teen, but at times it will include some serious subjects such as mental health, sexual assault, violence, and death. Please use your own discretion and feel free to message me if you have questions!

I hope you enjoy! I love feedback, so if you have any advice please comment!

Kim:

Chapter 1: Embracing Rain

Rain made me anxious back in Flagstaff where storms were rare and fierce. The flash floods would wash away the grit, soaking the earth beyond recognition. Maybe that's why my pulse would climb whenever I saw static building in bruise-colored clouds, even if only through a window. Rain had the power to transform a stagnant world overnight. I'd have to get over my fear though. In Forks it was always raining.

I won't lie, I wasn't excited about the move. A few months ago, I never would have seen this coming. Life felt stable. I was about to be a Junior, already comparing class schedules with friends. I worked a studio job stretching and priming canvases for a local artist. I was studying for the SATs. Mom and dad seemed happy.

Dad left in July. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and watching him cross our tiny lawn, start his car. and drive off. As I fell back asleep, I wondered what urgent errand couldn't wait until morning. Only he never drove back. Mom was happy in Flagstaff, but I'd noticed a change when dad left. She stopped going out, and then, without any warning, she announced that we were moving to Washington.

I didn't fight it. It hurt to see her hurting, and I couldn't imagine adding to her pain, but I was mad at her for never talking about it, mad at dad for not saying goodbye, and mad at myself for watching silently as he crossed the lawn that night instead of charging down the stairs and into the street. For not knowing that would be my last memory of him, and that memory would not even include his face.

For days I wandered around the place I'd called home almost my entire life and wondered if everything around us changes at once, can we even call ourselves the same people? While watching mom, glassy-eyed, packing efficiently though haphazardly, I couldn't help but wonder if that was the point. Leave everything familiar behind at once, and try to banish any memories that attempt to follow.

I wished her luck, silently but earnestly, as I curled up on a pile of loose blankets and pillows in what was to be my new bedroom. Tomorrow would bring furniture, and two weeks would bring school. It didn't make me as nervous anymore. Two years was nothing. No one ever said the friends you made in the last two years of high school would be your friends forever. I could be whatever I wanted. I could treat these two years as a social experiment even, then start all over again in college.

That night I dreamt that I stood under a desert downpour, lightning illuminating the sky, letting the rain pound away every part of myself as it pounded the earth, leaving a canvas of silt and mud on which a new life could grow.

The movers came at seven. I blinked at the sunrise, thinking that seven a.m. starts shouldn't be allowed during summer. There were only three movers, but that was plenty for our small pile of furniture. They had everything inside the house by ten, and then it was just mom and I unpacking unlabeled, randomly filled boxes. I smiled as I pulled a tube of toothpaste out of a box of spices and cooking utensils.

"Your uncle Quil invited us over for dinner tonight," mom said.

"Fun," I said, trying to sound adequately excited, even though I knew when it was time to go I would want to take a nap instead. Later, when the kitchen was beginning to take shape, I went upstairs to tackle my bedroom and get ready. I opened a few boxes of clothing, and eventually found some of my makeup in a box of pens, paints, and other junk from my desk drawer. Mom and I were similar in the level of energy we put into organization. Oh well. Disorganized people were more creative right? Or was that just something to say to make sloppy people feel better? I got dressed and went downstairs.

"You look nice," mom said. She smiled but it looked forced.

"I'm looking forward to this," I said. "I haven't seen the cousins in forever."

"I think it's just Quil tonight," mom said as we climbed into the station wagon. It felt almost painful to fold up in the front seat after spending over twenty hours here in the last few days. It still smelled like coffee and french fries and feet. "Preena might be back at school already."

"Oh ok," I said. That was fine by me. My cousin Quil, I believe fifth of his name though I may have lost track, was my favorite anyways. He was the perfect mix of gullible good nature and hilarious antics. I also loved that he was a few years younger than me and frequently willing to take dares. Our parents called us a dangerous combination or sometimes 'Team Bad Ideas.'

"Kim I wanted to thank you for being such a good sport about all of this," Mom said. "I-I really appreciate it."

"Of course," I said, surprised by how serious she sounded. "It'll be fun. One last big adventure before college." Mom glanced over. It looked like she was torn between studying me and watching the road. "I mean I'm sad to be leaving Flagstaff of course." There was a pause. Mom kept her eyes on the road. "Mom?"

"Yeah," she said. "I hadn't really thought of it that way. It's like an adventure."

"Of course it is," I said. I was trying to convince myself too. We climbed out of the car.

Quil swung the door open after the first knock. "Cuz!" He shouted and then threw his arms around me in a hug so tight it knocked the wind out of me.

"Oh my god!" I wheezed. "You've grown!" I hadn't seen him in years. Last time we were together, he was shorter than me and a lot rounder. Like a little bowling ball. Now we were even in height and he'd muscled up in a big way. "Some glow up dude!" I laughed, not bothering to hide my shock.

"Wish I could say the same about you!" He cackled.

"You turd!" I cried, still laughing.

Uncle Quil and Aunt Tina appeared and hugged us at the door. We eventually sat at the table and began to catch up. Apparently Preena was crushing it in college. I felt a little jealous of the freedom and distance she had. Then mom shifted the conversation to me.

"You're going to school in Forks?" Uncle Quil asked, his eyebrow shooting up a bit.

"I think so?" I looked at mom for clarity.

"That's right," mom said. "The house is in Forks." Mom initially looked into moving back onto the Rez, but the housing waitlist was too long.

"Well Tina's on the school board, I'm sure Kim could go to school in La Push if she wanted," Uncle Quil said.

"The school in Forks was rated a bit better," mom said, as she pulled apart a piece of bread. "Kim might still be bored in Forks, but it's the best we can do here." I frowned, at her but she didn't look at me. Mom developed this regrettable habit of describing me as a misunderstood genius back when I started acting out in school, which was embarrassing but admittedly my fault because I played into it often. No I wasn't misbehaving for the sake of misbehaving, I'm just not being challenged.

"What?!" Quil asked. "She wouldn't be bored! We would be in the same school!"

I grinned conspiratorially at Quil, while silently wishing that mom wouldn't be so tactless in criticizing the school. "Yeah I think mom should actually be worried that I wouldn't be bored enough." Quil grinned back.

"I think she'd be happier going to school in La Push," Uncle Quil pressed. "Quil can introduce her to people. And she can connect with our culture."

"She's going to Forks," mom said, voice flat and stern.

I turned my attention back to my plate. I didn't like what Uncle Quil was implying either, that I wouldn't be able to fit in at Forks. The truth was, I'd be just as much of an outsider if I went to school on the Rez. Maybe even more so. Most of the other kids probably spent their whole lives in La Push, and since I hadn't, I'd be an outsider in a big way. Wherever I went it seemed people saw the half that made me different first.

I thought mom's tone would have changed the subject, but the school debate continued. Uncle Quil seemed to have strong, negative opinions about Forks high school which seemed to escalate as the evening wore on. I grew increasingly nervous as I wondered what kind of high school nightmare I would be walking into in two weeks. After dinner when Quil was asked to clean up, I volunteered to help so I could see if he knew anything.

"So does your Dad have some grudge against the Forks schools or something?" I teased, keeping my voice light. "What'd their football team cheat against yours or something?"

Quil chuckled. "It's not that."

"What is it then?"

Quil looked around, leaning as far from the sink as he could without dripping soapy water on the floor. The room was empty.

"Just some people there he'd rather not have you mixing with."

"What?" I couldn't help but laugh. This was not the kind of answer I was expecting. I honestly wasn't sure Quil would have an answer at all.

"You've heard the stories right?" He asked.

"Some of them." I had vague, pleasant memories of our grandfather, another Quil, telling us intricate stories which beautifully wove history and mythology together when we used to visit when I was very young. I always asked mom to tell them to me when I was growing up, but each time she would laugh and say she wouldn't get them right. She read me Junie B. Jones instead. In spite of my poor memory of the details, I loved Grandpa Quil's stories. "Like Kwalla the great whale? And the raven that put the sun in the sky?"

Quil smiled and nodded. "Do you remember the uh... newer additions?"

I rolled my eyes. "You mean the one with the warrior werewolves and the zombies?"

"Zombies?"

"I guess they were more like vampires right?" I asked.

"Yeah," Quil said. "You know a lot of people believe those stories right?"

"Really?" I smirked. Our great-great grandfather, the first and most eccentric of all the Quils, had taken some creative liberties with the tribal legends. He passed down a few stories that didn't trace back and had a bit of a reputation for his antics. Most people smiled and rolled their eyes at the mention of the first Quil Ateara and his inventive, fervently self-promoted stories. It was news to me that he had supporters. I shook my head. "I thought the vampire stories were like a metaphor for colonization or something."

"What?" Quil asked, laughing.

"Oh come on," I said, setting down a dish I'd just dried. "Weird looking, pale monsters show up, wreak havoc, and Quileute people survive by their inherent strength and warrior-like spirit?"

"Hm. Yeah, wow I guess that checks out," Quil said, nodding. "But no, they actually believe it's real. Not a metaphor."

I snorted. "I mean, I guess that would explain why Grandpa's all fired up," I said, keeping my voice low so it wouldn't carry. "I'm sure he was kind of a captive audience to great-great grandpa's antics, but what about your mom and dad?" Quil made a face. "What? Are you serious? They're in too?"

"It's not just the old people. Mom and Dad definitely believe his stories," Quil said. "I can tell. The way they talk about them. They act like they know something we don't. Some of the people in town their age believe the stories too."

"Wow," I said. "And what about… us millennials?"

"Of course we don't believe them," Quil said, scowling. "Everyone said great-great grandpa was a nut. Well, except for this one group." I raised my eyebrows. "See there's this gang-"

"A gang?" I asked, incredulous.

"I mean," Quil hedged, "they don't really do anything bad. At least as far as I can tell. Honestly I have no idea what they do."

"Well then what makes them a gang?" I asked.

"I don't know," Quil said. "They call themselves the Protectors. And they meet with Grandpa and the rest of the council."

"Ah so like a little... special interest group?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "Delightful. They're believers?"

"Looks like it," Quil said, smiling.

"And how big is this anti-vampire youth squad?" I asked.

"Um, there's three of them," Quil said.

I laughed again. "So all in all not a huge percentage of the millennial population."

"I guess not," he said.

"Alright, but what does that have to do with where I go to school?"

Once again, Quil leaned away from the sink to ensure the room was empty. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "The Cold Ones," Quil said. "Great-great grandpa's vampire-zombies? The old folks on the Rez think some of them go to school in Forks."

I snorted again. It didn't help that Quil kept a straight face while he said it. "Of course they do," I said. "I'm telling you, it's a colonizer metaphor, and I'm sure that school is full of white kids."

Quil chuckled nervously. "It's the Cullen family," he said. "Apparently they were here almost seventy years ago, and now they're back."

"So I'll be going to school with the OG colonizers' grandkids?" I asked. "Again, already knew that."

"No, the same ones. The OG. They say they haven't aged," Quil said.

"Oh come on!" I cried, rolling my eyes.

"I'm serious!" Quil said. "That's what they think!"

"Ok." I smiled. "I'll investigate. Sherlock Kim is on the case."

"Kim," Quil said, suddenly serious. "You can't tell anyone."

I laughed again at the thought of spouting conspiracy theories at a new school. What a great first impression that would make. "Don't worry, cuz," I said. "Your secret is safe with me."

Quil seemed immediately relieved, which concerned me even more. I didn't think Quil believed the stories but clearly he was surrounded by people who did.

We didn't talk anymore as we finished the dishes. I was trying to laugh at the whole situation, but it was hard when Quil acted so serious. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I dutifully dried and stacked plates. Small town life wasn't good for him. He was going to get sucked up in all the superstition if he wasn't careful.