THE ANTICLIMACTIC NONIMPRINTMENT OF EMBRY CALL

Chapter 1: At the Corner of Maybe and Definitely Not

For as long as Embry could remember, which was about to the age of six, his Mother had been obsessed with fairy tale movies. From the time he was about ten until he went to high school, she loved Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Most people might not think that was too strange. Those movies were popular for a reason, right? They appeal to a certain audience… yada, yada, yada. Except, as a kid, Embry never perceived his Mom as member of that audience.

She and Embry were the only ones in their house. She raised him his whole life and the fact that he still turned into a fully blue-blooded male is – as far as Embry was concerned – a testament to her own hardiness and sort of… atypical female nature. Tiffany Call was a tomboy. She showed Embry how to chop wood for the fireplace. The two replaced the boiler together when Embry was twelve. She showed him how to re-tile the roof when he was fifteen. And - because she was his Mom – he could cook a mean homegrown meal. Embry knew how to separate his whites and colors and to never ask woman how old she was or how much she weighed.

Embry's Mom fused the most important aspects of being both his Mom and his 'male influence' and funneled them into him at a young age. Over his childhood Embry adopted a lot of feminine influences because that was the only thing he knew. The foremost probably being his penchant for color-coordination. Anyways… fairy tale movies were something he thought – even as a ten year old boy – were a bit out of character for his Mom.

One night, Snow White had been playing on the old, fuzzy TV in the living room as his Mom put together a roast for dinner and Embry contemplated the irrelevancy of "'i' before 'e' except after 'c'" in his spelling homework. He looked up from his frustrated scribblings and was momentarily entranced by the dwarves as they sang joyfully in their mining work. Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to work we go.

"Mom," Embry asked. "Why do you like those movies so much?"

"Hm?" she hummed in question. She turned and followed Embry's gaze to the television. "Oh," she replied in understanding as she sat down next to him, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "Well, it's a fairy tale," she said like that explained it all. "The thing about these stories is that they always end well. That's the job of a fairy tale. There's a really big problem and a little hope from the good people in the story and bit of magic lets it all end perfectly."

"'Cept that's just made up, Mom."

"I know it is, Emb," she smiled and patted his forearm before returning to her roast.

Fairy tales. Despite being raised by his Mom it was something he never understood. As a being possessing a fully stiff-wristed Y chromosome, Embry just didn't get it. He didn't understand for a really, really long time. And then he turned sixteen.

early October 2006

"Embry… Embry…"

He had to have been dreaming. Embry had only just lay down. He could've sworn it anyways. He rolled back over, refusing to open his eyes. If there was any damn justice in this world, he could get at least another hour or two of sleep.

"Embry!"

"Christ!" Embry finally sat up, so quick – in fact – he gave himself vertigo. His vision cleared from the drag of sleep and he realized it was Quil in his room. "What the fuck do you want, man? I just got off patrol."

Quil was momentarily stunned by Embry's language. Embry didn't tend to curse outright. But whenever he swore, it made people pause.

"Will you cover for me on Wednesday?" Quil asked, completely unfazed by the fact that his best friend was near to death or at least a coma if he didn't get some shut eye damn soon.

"Quil…" Embry asked staring at him in amazement. "Are you seriously asking me this now? It's…" Embry glanced at his alarm clock, "four thirty in the morning. On a Monday. You couldn't have waited until I see you in class in a few hours?"

"I'm not gonna be there," Quil replied as he collapsed in the folding chair near Embry's desk. "I've got patrol. And you're my last option. I'm desperate."

"Obviously…" Embry groaned as he rolled back over, trying to bury his head back into his pillow.

"Please?" he begged. Embry knew that voice. That was Quil's Imprint Voice. He only used it when he was talking about Claire. And because Claire was pretty much awesome, Embry rarely denied Quil any requests related to her. Quil got the benefit only by extension of being her imprinter, otherwise he'd be shit out of luck. "Claire has a doctor's appointment."

"Does she not have parental units?"

"Yes, but I'm the only one she'll sit with through her shots."

Poor Claire-bear… Embry hated shots when he was a kid, too. Now he needed to go to Carlisle for a titanium needle for his updated tetanus shot. Funny how things change.

"Fine, now get out or shut up. And don't wake my Mom up."

"Thanks, man! Bye!" And a series of door slams accompanied Quil's exit from Embry's house.

It was odd what a pile of mush a three-year-old girl could turn Quil to. It seemed more reasonable to Embry with Sam and Emily or Kim and Jared – at least the thing was mutual. Hell, even Paul and Rachel coexisted as platonic partners in crime. Claire adored Quil, but it was clearly not the same. That wasn't even starting in on the Nessie and Jake scenario...

Embry was pretty torn about the whole institution, honestly. He didn't want his genes to force him on some girl – because that was awkward and Embry had never really been smooth at all. But Sam, Quil, Jared and Jake corroborated that it changes once it's happened. It doesn't feel awkward or strange. It's just how things are supposed to be. And it's the best feeling in the world.

That would be nice, Embry thought. Being set in who you'll love for the rest of your life. Knowing you'll always be together and you'll always be happy must be pretty cool. Then again you could get imprinted to a psycho and your whole life could spiral into oblivion. Embry didn't like to think about that option. Part of Embry was just kind of waiting for it to happen like it was an inevitable thing, though there wasn't really any evidence to suggest that. The Pack didn't know what kind of frequency it happened with. But every couple of months, someone else had imprinted on a local girl and it looked more and more like an all or nothing game.

But what were the odds of that? Embry's logic kind of got thrown for a loop that day he was on his way home from school and experienced and total species shift in the middle of the road. But every now and then his reasoning liked to come back and say "Wait a minute…". Embry usually tried and push it back because nothing really made sense anymore. But it was pretty persistent about that imprinting business – which Embry thought about a lot. His logic told him that it couldn't be guaranteed for everyone. Maybe some will mate au naturel. And he wanted to be able to make his own decisions – their were very few of those left.

But he also didn't think it was worth the risk to date. Like he even had time. And that was one thing that no one in the Pack would readily offer their two cents about. It was a pretty touchy topic. No one was going to tell someone who hadn't imprinted to go paint the town because they all know what happened to Sam and Leah. But discouraging it just seemed really depressing and lame.

Mostly the Pack didn't think about it like that, especially in the communal Pack mind. Which left Embry at a really weird impasse. He noticed girls. Like all the time. But he would panic, because he was afraid he's going to imprint (he's had more than a few false alarms), or he would panic because he'll fast forward through life potentials and see himself having to hurt someone like Sam did to Leah.

Do you see where I'm going with this? He told the others.

Part of him wonders if they're all under the effects of some genetic hallucinogen. He didn't want to lessen the bond between any of the imprint pairs but he couldn't help but wonder what triggers such a change in the minds of the Quileute Pack. The only analogy he could find is drugs.

It's pretty ironic actually. Actually, maybe it wasn't. He just couldn't think of a better word to describe it. But drugs? That's what he was pretty sure his mom thought he was doing. As much as she helped Embry out in raising him, she had been very hands off. Maybe it was because she trusted him. Maybe it was because she didn't want him to do that 'acting out' thing and gave him some pretty loose reins.

Yeah. Well, after Embry phased and disappeared for two days and couldn't offer his Mom any explanation she pretty much lost most of her trust and faith in him. She really laid into him that first night. And he just sat there and took it. What else could he do? Pack law said no one who doesn't need to know is told the secret. Embry credited her with helping him learn control. He couldn't help getting angry as she was yelling but he couldn't risk a phase and hurt her.

Now, she checks in on him every night. But those three nights a week he has night patrol? She checked in on his empty bed. Sometimes he got Seth to sleep in his bed for him. It was easier because Sue knew. Embry's Mom doesn't lay into him anymore like she did that first time, but he knows she's disappointed. And he knows she thinks he's up to no good. And he knows she's connected the dots to Sam, Jared, Jake and now Quil. Embry's still good around the house and he still helps her out, so mostly she just looks at him all sad and disappointed. That's the worst. Sometimes he wished she'd yell instead of being disappointed.

Sam saw how much stress it was causing Embry and actually told him that it was kosher to tell her. Sam knew Embry's mom wouldn't spill and knew it would help out a lot.

Embry decided not to.

Jacob told Embry he was a masochist for like three weeks and Quil just thought he was batshit. Easy for you to say, he told them, you have family on the council. Their families knew.

Embry decided not to tell his mom because he wasn't square with it yet. He knew the Pack was made for good. They protected people. It was their job. But they could also do a lot of damage. They scared a lot of people. Every now and then when they got reckless and were glimpsed by a passing hiker… well, Embry saw those faces. Mouths wide and faces bloodless. All he could think of was her stint in the world of fairy tales when he was younger. The Pack was the scary part of the fairy tale. And this story didn't always end well. Embry didn't want his Mom to think he was even worse off than she already did – which he might have been. The Pack wasn't her type of magic.

His mother existed so much in the world of reality. She believed in the inherent good of people. Embry didn't want to disappoint her anymore than she already was. His lying to her for months would only be the tip of an iceberg about the size of this planet. Forget the whole being in a wolfpack thing.

And once she'd realized all the stories were true, she'd know Embry could figure out his bloodlines. She'd realize he knew she lied about his Dad. There were only three bloodlines left: the Black, Uley and Ateara bloodlines. All the Pack members were somehow related. Second cousins, mother's sister's nephew. Somehow they were all connected by blood to the same three people in generations past. There was no way around it. That was not a conversation he was ready to have with his mother. Or a mental dialog he was ready to share with the entire Pack.

They all assumed it was Sam's dad, Joshua, because he was kind of a loser dad anyways. But what if it wasn't? What if it was Billy? Or Quil's dad? Embry was not going there.

So for now, he'd rather her think he was going through a rebellious stage. That he was still human and just being a typical teenager. He didn't want her knowing he was a mythical beast capable of so much damage and responsible for so much more. And mostly, he didn't want his mother opened up to the shame and ridicule of the reservation because of half his genetic material.

Color him retarded, but he just thought things were better the way they were.

Embry worked part time at the corner store on the edge of town. He was about 87% sure the old man dealt hard drugs out of the back room. But he learned a long time ago that it was sometimes best to just not ask. So he doesn't. Yeah, he's a coward. He's only seventeen, now, and eight months into this shapeshifter business. It's all adults he sells to, anyways. No kids.

At any rate, Old Mr. Carlson was really paranoid and he was about the size of one of Embry's arms and a totally crotchety old dude so he didn't ask too many questions about why Embry chose to work weird hours or randomly disappeared at times. It worked out well. Embry knew Mr. Carlson though he was a screw up. That's how Embry's pretty sure he was dealing crap. The guy had not so subtly hinted at Embry that he can help him out. Embry tells him all the time no thanks, but he's a persistent old bugger.

Now, normally the only people from La Push and Forks that came into the store were pretty shady. Normal people stopped by sometimes but it was usually only to get a newspaper or a gallon of milk or a bag of ice or something you didn't have to penetrate too far into the place to find. It was a slow business and Embry's basic economic skills didn't know how it stayed afloat. But the old guy paid him on time every week and that was good enough for him.

Embry needed the money, so he just didn't ask questions. Now that he was old enough to seriously work and was on the cusp of expulsion – he was trying to help at his house. His really shoddy attendance record had got the administrators all bent out of shape, even though when he as there he didn't cause any trouble and got all his work done but whatever! He's not Paul or something. All he does is start crap. Embry liked to lay low. And if all panned out, he'd actually pass his senior year.

Plus, Embry was not totally ignorant to the fact that a one-income household was really hard to squeeze. Especially when he ate the way he did (he was seriously glad Emily was so willing to feed everyone all the time). His mom was already angry at/disappointed in/worried about him. So as if that was like the worst possible combination of guilt-inducing parent vibes ever. And Embry knew it was hard to swing life on a weekly paycheck. He figured it was the least he could do. And maybe the fact that he held a steady job helped convince his Mom he wasn't a total screw up. Maybe.

So, he worked in a shady corner mart where the wizened old prune of an owner dealt meth out of the back storeroom and earned some cash. He didn't choose to be here. Most people didn't. For those who shopped here it was an act of desperation. So, you could imagine Embry's surprise when a perky redheaded girl walked in off the street like it was no big thing.

He stood behind the counter and watched her browse the aisles. She was a redhead, a really dark kind of redhead. She had pale as hell skin - a tell tale sign of a Forksian - and was kind of short. Actually, from his six foot four stature he really had to reevaluate that last statement. He guessed she was kind of average height. She was wearing mesh shorts and appeared a bit out of breath. The iPod strapped to her arm lead him to believe she was probably on a jog and not in the run from the Mob.

Embry had an overactive imagination.

The girl was pretty built. Nothing bulky but she was obviously an athlete. Embry realized he was staring and returned to restocking the cigarettes behind the counter. He kept finding himself drawn to watch her. Her earbuds stuck in, she bopped her head to the music. Every now and then she would hum a verse or get really into it. Embry couldn't help but smile. It was endearing watching her. A small smile played over her lips as she mouthed the words to whatever she was listening to and shopped along.

Stop staring, Embry. You're gonna freak her out.

"Embry!"

He was so startled he almost landed on his butt. Old Mr. Carlson was hobbling towards him from his office and hollering his name like it was going out of style.

"Stop eyeballing the customers, you no-good pubescent puke!"

"God..." he mumbled to himself, rubbing his back where he'd jumped into the counter. He was also keenly aware of the only customer's hiding place behind the rack of Doritos as she tried to contain her laughter. Well, this was embarrassing.

"Yes, Mr. Carlson?"

"Boy, we got a run on all Pepsi-Cola products next week. That means I want your behind labeling all of those," he pointed to the cooler full of Pepsi, "with these," he slammed a few pages of '2 for $2' stickers on the counter. Old man had some power when he wanted.

"Yes, sir."

"Before you leave today!"

"Yes."

He turned around and made for his office and shouted - "And stop harassing the clientele!" - before slamming the door. Embry listened to the racket of the Venetian blinds against the door and let his forehead fall against the countertop. Mr. Carlson was worse than his Mom. He was sure whoever Poor, Energetic, Redheaded Lip Syncer was, she didn't want to come anywhere near him now. She probably wanted to file a restraining order.

It was then that he heard a small throat clearing right above him. Embry picked his head up and Poor, Energetic, Redheaded Lip Syncer was now standing on the other side of the counter with a large bottle of water and an apple in her hand. She'd taken her earbuds out and they were now slung over her shoulder.

"We sell fruit?"

Embry was not too suave.

Part of him was really surprised the store stocked fruit because he hadn't seen it since he'd worked there. And part of his was slightly terrified and mesmerized by this girl being so close to him. She reached towards Embry, because he was still leaning over the counter from his head thumping. She bit the edge of her lip as she peeled a '2 for $2' sticker off his forehead.

"No," she replied. "It's my apple. You do sell water, though," she pushed the water towards him. She had a low, sweet voice; slightly scratchy in that old-world jazz kinda way. Embry was far too fascinated by the way her mouth moved when she talked. He'd never seen anything like it before. It was wonderful. It took him four tries to actually scan the UPC code because he was so distracted by her.

"So," she continued as the cash drawer opened. "Does your boss always yell at you like that or do you have a history of ogling the customers?"

"Yes... Wait! No!" He was seriously screwing this up. He took a sharp breath and straightened up as the girl suppressed a laugh. "Yes to the first; no to the last."

"Gotcha," she nodded with a smile as she retrieved her water bottle and change.

She turned and made for the door. Embry found himself wanting to say something to make her stay, even just for a few more moments. Almost heeding his mental call, she stopped halfway to the door and turned. Her face twisted in thought for a moment before she spoke. "What time are you guys open until? Y'see my dad went food shopping today, so I'm bound to realize he didn't buy something really important later. I don't want to go all the way back into town."

"We're open until nine o'clock today."

She nodded with a happy smile as she replaced her earbuds. "Maybe I'll see you later..."

"Embry," he supplied filling her pause.

"Jezzie."

About five minutes after Jezzie left, Embry was torn out of his own mental montage. He kept replaying her course through the store and remembering every detail of her appearance, her face, her smile, her hair. How she had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her eyes were green and flecked with gold…

Then Mr. Carlson knocked something over in his office and Embry was forced out of his reverie. He half came back to the real world and realized he was obsessing over a girl he had just met. His mental dialogue must've sounded like a preteen girl. He couldn't stop though, he was just so fixated on her and the more he tried to stop the harder it got. And it gave him this weird feeling in his gut and—

Holy shit.

"Mr. Carlson," Embry shouted as he ran around the counter, "I'm going on break!"

He distinctly heard Mr. Carlson hobbling out of his office and mumbling something about when he decided that breaks happened at this job. Embry ran across the street and silently thanked God that it was nothing but woods and before he knew it, he was in doggy shapes.

!

Embry? he caught the tenor of Sam's voice in his head. He might not have been his Alpha, but Embry still got the joys of hearing Sam whenever he was phased. At least only Jake could order him around. It was Sam's turn for patrol; Embry didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Is there a problem?

Holyshit, ohmyfuckingod, Sam, Sam! SAM!

Embry's use of excessive expletives must've worried Sam because he immediately decided he was coming to find Embry. As he ran across town, all Embry could do was whine and roll around. He was rustling in the leaves and dirt, trying to scrub his brain but it wouldn't work. He kept seeing Jezzie come through the store and he couldn't help the feelings either. As Sam could see and feel what was happening in his head he slowed down, realizing that no major catastrophe was actually happening to Embry.

Embry? he asked cautiously.

Sam, I think I imprinted!

Cue the laughter.

Embry was constantly falling into this trap of thinking he'd imprinted. The issue was that every female he saw who he found even remotely attractive made him wonder… And he knew from the guys you got this pulling feeling in your gut when it finally happened. But he couldn't tell the difference between the pulling feeling in his gut and the pulling feeling in his pants. He couldn't tell the difference between hormones and imprinting. It was either that or he felt some emotion in a twenty mile radius of sympathy or kindness or compassion and he was convinced he was bonded to a girl forever.

It was a problem.

This actually hadn't happened to him in a month or two because Paul swore on pain of death that if he had to come out and help the others calm Embry's needlessly strung out wolfy ass from a fake imprint high, that Paul would gut him and mount Embry over his mantle.

Embry was pretty sure Paul didn't have a mantle, but he wouldn't put it past Paul to beat the crap out of him.

Plus Jared, Sam, Paul, Quil and Jake wouldn't stop laughing at him every time it happened. Because it wasn't embarrassing enough to realize he just pulled another false alarm. All the guys that have had the experience got to take turns enjoying the comic relief.

Embry, you haven't imprinted. Sam repeated to him in his exhausted and methodic fashion. Embry could tell he'd stopped and resumed patrol. He wasn't coming after him anymore because there was no reason.

Are you sure? I can't get her out of my head!

I'm sure. If you'd imprinted, you'd know about it. Trust me.

Ugh, Embry growled in frustration. This is so freaking lame. Can't this chick just show up in my life already so we can stop the madness!

Embry, Sam interrupted his diatribe with a pensive thought. Have you ever considered that maybe you won't imprint?

The cacophony of Embry's mind came to a grinding halt right there and finally the only thing he could hear were the natural noises around him.

What?

What did Sam mean maybe he wouldn't imprint? Was that some kind of sick joke? After Embry turned sixteen, his whole world got put though a blender and he learned life by a whole new set of rules – spoken and unspoken. One of those unspoken rules was that there was some girl out there who was his perfect match and some day he would see her and fall head over heels. But until then he had to wait.

He had the new rules down pat. And now they were gonna change them again.

What are you talking about, Sam. It's only a matter of time, right?

Who knows, Embry, he sighed. And Embry could tell that Sam was leveling with him. He didn't have his Alpha voice on. This idea must've been new to him too, because they were just talking. It was kind of weird.

I mean, imprinting makes sense from a biological standpoint, but maybe it's like a last ditch attempt.

What do you mean? Embry didn't know where he was going with this.

I mean, that imprinting for the wolves is not a way to put a bulls eye on the perfect mate – maybe the legends were only part right. Think about it, Embry could hear his mental shrug, Jared barely knew Kim's name. Emily and I… And Quil and Jake's imprints don't really make that kinda sense. And Rachel's gay and her and Paul are just relentless nutcases. We're batting 2 for 3 on potentially mated imprint pairs. Biology is usually more efficient than that. Especially for reproduction.

Yeah, Embry agreed. I get it.

Exactly, Sam continued. Mating is a legends thing. We don't know who we'll imprint on.

So are you telling me I'm going to imprint on some totally off-the-wall chick?

Maybe. You never know. But there's also a possibility that you can pick your own mate. None of the imprinters would've picked their imprintees, but maybe you – or even Seth or Collin or Brady or Leah or any of the other guys – can do the picking yourself. If you can find the right person on your own, you won't need to imprint.

So what am I supposed to do about Jezzie?

You like her right? Ask her out, take her on a date. Be her friend. Do the normal teenage thing.

I don't know how to be a normal teenager… Embry offered pathetically, rolling back over in the pine needles. And how am I supposed to explain everything that's so bizarre about my life?

Ha! Sam laughed. If she cares enough about you, it won't be a problem. Further down the line… we'll see how it goes. As far as being a normal teenager goes, I'm sure she can help you with that. You've already done wonders to impress her, I'm sure. Embry whined as Sam watched his word vomit at the register earlier.

Shouldn't you be getting back to work?

Embry returned an hour later. Mr. Carlson was out back so he didn't think he knew Embry was gone so long. The old guy looked him up and down on the way back to his office. "Did you change your clothes, boy?"

"No," of course not. Because it's not like he had a mental break just outside the store and shredded his clothes as he transformed into a giant dog. What are you talking about you crazy old man? Get off the dope.

Embry just rolled his eyes and Mr. Carlson went to his office.

True to her word, Jezzie was in fact back that evening. She walked in at about seven o'clock, no longer dressed for a run but simply in jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt on. Either this girl was a damn genius or she'd just moved clear across the country. Or both.

She offered Embry a wave as she picked up a hand basket on the way in. "Anything I can help you with, Miss?" he asked from his spot behind the counter.

She quirked a brow at his formality, "I think I'm all set, sir. But I'll be sure to let you know." She picked a loaf of bread off the shelf and continued talking. "You haven't happened to have seen a tall and awkward dark-haired guy around have you? I met him in here earlier."

"Nope, sorry," Embry grinned. "The only dark-haired guy I know is a blueprint for awesomeness and good looks."

"Hm… too bad. He was really nice. I was hoping to talk to him again." Embry didn't know what kind of game she was playing with him, but it wasn't so bad. Though he did resent being called 'awkward'. She finished her shopping and approached the counter.

Embry only just began ringing up her basket of bread and salt and pepper and butter and napkins, when her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket. She looked at the caller ID and took a deep breath before answering it.

"JEZEBEL!"

"Dad?" she held the phone at an arms length. She took the few steps to the door, obviously trying to be polite in the most gritty, run-down joint the town had to offer. She came back a moment later, flashed Embry her index finger to indicate that he should wait. She then proceeded to the cooler, pulled out two gallons of milk and came back. "These, too."

"That's a lot of milk," Embry offered.

She leaned on the counter and rested her head in her hand. "I know. My father, bless his heart, is a bit bumbling. He stood down wind of his bear-spray experiment."

Embry couldn't help the grimace. That would hurt. A lot. "Well, I don't want to keep you then," he replied. "That sounds like a pretty painful accident."

"It's not the first. My dad's eccentric. Since we're new in town and my dad hasn't met many new people yet, he's been doing lots of experiments. He likes to tinker."

"New?" Embry totally just found himself a segue. Score for Embry, on the rebound!

"Yep," she popped the 'p' as took her bags. "Just moved in early this week."

"Well, maybe I can show you around sometime. Don't want you thinking this is the best spot in town."

She flashed her shining smile at him and her eyes lit up. "I'd like that."

Maybe being a normal teenager wasn't so hard after all.