Waxing Gibbous - AU. Kennedy Clearwater is the youngest of the three, if only by three minutes on Seth's part. Living life post-Leah/Sam breakup is difficult enough, with the addition of freshman year and staring on the volleyball team. Kennedy has no time for Sam's newest BFF to be trailing after her like a lost duck. He doesn't seem to care. Kennedy/Paul.

The "Gibbous" moon means it is growing and is so named from a Greek root of the same name because it resembles a humped back. It is growing in both appearance and in intensity. It's moving towards it's fullness. Obviously it's grown now since the Half Moon we recently went through and so have we. We had obstacles then and we were being led to follow our gut instincts and intuitive faculties to better guide our lives. We've now grown in some area. And we now strive to improve ourselves.We very much want our place in society to have meaning.

AN: Okay, so Stephenie Meyer was a little cryptic on ages, but I do know that Paul first shifted roughly around 16. The part that confuses me about that is that he ends up imprinting on Rachel, who had finished college. But if Paul had shifted at 16, and Rachel was anywhere near his age, he would've imprinted on her then. So. That would make her, what, two years older than him, at the least. Which isn't wrong or anything, but whatever. I'm assuming Sam in around 23 or something, because again, I don't know the ages. Leah's maybe 20. Seth and Kennedy are 14. Jared will be 17, which leaves Jake, Quil, and Embry to be about, oh, 15 . Just letting you know, in case the age difference bugs you. Quite honestly, I always pictured Paul to be a bit older, but this'll work better with the story, so:)

Story Quote: I want to ask you to be my inspiration. To infatuate my humble senses with your pure and unearthly fire, to startle my slumbering consciousness with a vivid rapture beyond imagination … But I cannot seem to find the right words to say.

Kennedy threw open Leah's door, barging into the dark room with a purpose. "Up!" she shouted, flinging the blankets off her older sister and onto the floor.

Leah glared at her from her curled position, knees tucked up against her chest.

"Enough is enough," Kennedy continued, going to the window to whip open the curtains. Leah hissed. Kennedy ignored it. "I gave you three days, which is two too many for an asshole like him."

Him. Sam. Kennedy had learned that his name was tantamount to sacrilege in their house, now.

"Never called him an 'asshole' before," Leah pointed out, slowly sitting up and placing her feet on the floor.

"Because you were dating, and I was being considerate," Kennedy told her, ignoring the fact that she was never polite for the sake of being considerate. She rummaged through the clothes on the floor, pulling up a pair of jeans and a relatively clean shirt. "But I always thought he was a judgmental stick-in-the-mud."

Which was a total lie. Kennedy had adored Sam. He'd been her big brother, and she adored him beyond words. It hadn't been like Seth, who was more her other half than brother.

Seth was the guy she had prank wars with, who giggled with her over Jackass and let her kick his ass at Mario Kart. Sam was the guy she curled up on the couch with the watch The Notebook, who told her she looked beautiful every time he saw her.

To be honest, she kind of wanted to curl up in a ball and cry for forever, too. But Leah needed her, and damned if Kennedy was going to let her wallow like a loser.

They were Clearwaters. They wallowed in style.

Kennedy waited until Leah was dressed before nodding in satisfaction. Her older sister still looked like shit, but it was better than before. Barely.

"We're going to the junkyard. You're driving."

Leah grumbled nastily, but Kennedy ignored it with ease born of years of practice.

The drive to Thom's Junk Yard was quiet and short, over in ten minutes. "Now what?" Leah asked, sounding tired, like their little excursion had sapped the energy out of her already. Which was too damn bad, because they were just getting started.

Kennedy gave her a smile and slid out of the truck. She'd put two baseball bats in the bed of the old Chevy, and handed one of them to Leah. "This way, grasshopper," she ordered sagely.

Leah snorted, but did as told. It was disconcerting, the way her sister listened docilely to everything she was told (unless it was Seth who told her to do something, just out of principle), and Kennedy cursed Sam for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Thom had set aside a nearly intact car for them, with only the rear window and one of the headlights missing. Kennedy made a sweeping motion. "Have at it."

Leah stared blankly. "What."

Kennedy sighed dramatically. "You can't beat the crap out of That Asshole," she pointed out slowly. "It's considered aggravated assault." Leah snorted. "But this car won't press charges. So. Have at it."

They both stood there for a few seconds, Kennedy waiting for her sister to make the first move. And then Leah swung, shattering a back window. Kennedy cheered, bringing her own bat down on a side mirror. They couldn't take metal bats to Sam's kneecaps, but the car would do.

Kennedy danced around the car, slamming her bat against the only remaining headlight, and then back off. Watching Leah destroy the car was heartbreaking, because Kennedy could practically feelher sister's confusion and heartbreak and anger. But it was a necessary thing. For her and Leah, violence had always been the answer. Their mother had been to school every week because of one of them, either punching a student or cussing at the teacher or whatever else they could think of.

Seth was the nice Clearwater, always sweeping up the mess his sisters made with a smile and some charm.

They'd cooled down, Leah more than Kennedy, but they always reverted to it when the opportunity was there.

Kennedy wanted nothing more than to break the car with her sister, but knew thisparticular therapy session was for Leah's benefit. She was pretty sure Seth had a stash of breakable plates in his room for her to throw.

Either way, Leah was crying, and Kennedy was doing her best to ignore the fact. She could remember the last time Leah had cried - hell, any of them. Okay, so maybe Kennedy had cried the last time she watched P. S. I Love You, but that didn't count.

Leah hadn't cried when Sam had told her, sincerely and remorsefully, that he couldn't be with her anymore because he was in love with their cousin Emily, and please don't be upset, Lee-Lee, I didn't meanfor this to happen.

Her lip curled in distaste. She had thought he was better than that. She had thought he was better than some lame ass excuse, a lets be friends, and hightailing it out the house. Kennedy couldn't stand people who ran from their problems.

Kennedy looked back at Leah and the car, noting with some amusement that the driver door was barely clinging to it's hinges. Leah was winding down, swinging with less force and her sobs quieting.

Her phone buzzed, a short series of three vibrations. She pulled it out, sliding open the text.

From Seth: r u guys done being violent psychos?

She snorted, sending back a short 'yes' and sliding her phone back into her pocket. "Feel better?" she asked, tapping her bat against the dirt.

Leah rubbed her forearm under her nose, no doubt wiping away snot. Kennedy pulled a face, but said nothing. Because she was a nice sister. "A bit," Leah admitted.

"Enough to get off your ass and get back to work?"

"Tired of doing all the hard work, little girl?" Leah sneered, and Kennedy let out a short laugh.

"You know it," she agreed, swinging her bat up onto her shoulder. "Now c'mon, Seth is up my ass about when we're gettin' home." An exaggeration, maybe, but Kennedy wasn't the texting type. A text meant severe need or severe boredom, neither of which were good in tandem with her twin. "Also, I have a breakup playlist," she grinned.

Leah shook her head, muttering an amused, "Loser."

Kennedy sniffed, mock insulted. She'd put a lot of time into that damn CD, which was a horrifying mix of P!ink and Taylor Swift with some angry housewife music thrown in. Her personal favorite was I Shaved My Legs For This?

The ride back home was filled with angrily belted out lyrics, and Kennedy was pretty sure they both felt better when they went to bed that night.

Kennedy would've felt better if school didn't start the next day, but she'd take the small mercies.

Kennedy woke up to her bed being overturned and Leah cackling. "I regret everything," she mumbled, pulling herself out of the mess.

"Payback's a bitch," Leah sang, though it wasn't much of a payback. More of a thank you, really, all things considered. The last time Kennedy had really pissed her sister off, she'd woken with half her hair missing. A rude awakening was infinitely better.

Kennedy absolutely adored her hair.

"I'm up, I'm up," she grunted, rubbing at her eyes. Vaguely, she heard Seth coo, and flicked him off. Both Seth and Leah laughed at her.

She took after her father, in that she was a terrible morning person. Seth and Leah and mom were the worst kind of happy in the morning.

Her outfit was folded on top of her dresser, having been picked out last night, because if Kennedy had to find something to wear in the morning, it would be pajamas. She'd learned to think ahead. She stumbled down the stairs after pulling on her skinny jeans and scoop neck top, her hair still a curly mess.

"Don't you look chipper this morning," mom joked. Kennedy squinted at her, choosing to stuff her face with the pancakes laid out for her rather than saying something. It would likely be something sarcastic and rude, and mom would end up waking her over the head.

"I put your lunches in your backpacks," mom told her and Seth, "Which are by the door, with all your supplies in them." Kennedy grimaced, making a mental note to empty out most of it. The school list had been ridiculously long and pointless, including many things like a mini-stapler and glue.

She was not going to her first day of high school with glue in her backpack. The look on Seth's face said about the same thing. Leah snickered into her pancakes, and Kennedy kicked her shin.

Breakfast was probably the most important meal in their house, and Sue always went all out. Pancakes, sausage, bacon, toast, eggs, and little individual bowls of fruit. Breakfast was Kennedy's favorite meal, and had been since she was little.

"Nothing brightens the day like family," her mother had told her, once. "It's why breakfast is so important." Kennedy had nodded with all the wisdom of a six year old. "Seeing Seth in the mornin' makes me happy," she admitted. "Except for when he looks like a stupid head with his hair all," she held her hands behind her head, fingers sticking up to imitate his bedhead.

If they could have breakfast at noon, life would be perfect.