Chapter Thirteen-"Crying Over Spilled Milk" Just Took On a Whole New Meaning to Me

When I enter the lunchroom, I spot Kim sitting with a bunch of other girls, while everyone from the pack but Seth and Sam are huddled around one table. As I step in line for whatever's left of the chili, I contemplate sitting with the guys. Though we are in the same "pack" now, I'm not sure that makes me part of the group. It's not like I chose to be here, or they chose me for that matter. Besides, I'm going to be seeing plenty of them at home, during classes, and all things wolf-related in between.

I glimpse back at the table and catch Embry's expectant expression from across the cafeteria, where I detect a hint of amusement in his eyes. It's not that creepy, I've-been-staring-at-you-for-the-past-three-minutes-praying-to-the-high-heavens-you'll-grace-me-with-your-presence kind of stare. It's sort of like when you see a friend who has really good news to tell you. It's like they're silently asking "Are you coming over here or what?"

He's got that same authentic smile on his face, and there goes the cookie-melting feeling. I'm smiling back before I realize it.

Or maybe I'm wrong about the whole thing. Maybe he's staring at me because he's hungry and I have some lukewarm chili on my tray. The odds seem pretty equal.

As much as I want to talk to Embry and thank him again for the sink, my attention is diverted to other places. Quil's placing money on whether I'm man enough to kill. Jake got home late last night, so I'm not sure I want to be around him at the moment. And who could forget the ever-so-charming Paul?

I give the lunch lady my change and feel my lips turn into a scowl. As appealing as it all sounded, maybe it would be nice to meet some friends who were, well, normal girls. The only penis-less friends that I had back home were Babybel and Ronnie. Babybel was eccentric, but at least she acted like a girl. Ronnie would more likely stab you with a tube of lipstick than wear one. Not exactly a slumber party sorority chick in my book.

I approach the table in the most ordinary way possible, which is hard due to the dagger-eyed stares I'm getting from the girls surrounding Kim. In Westridge, this would be the heads up to pull the switchblade out of my backpack. Flashing back to the incident in the woods, I come to the stunning awareness I find this more terrifying. At least I could fight back in that case.

"Hey," I address meekly, my voice faltering at the end. The girls glare at me like I just pushed their grandmothers down an empty elevator shaft. Well, no turning back now.

Kim sits there with her eyes averted and her face buried behind a math book. Not to blow my own horn or anything, but I think I'm a tad more interesting than algebra.

"Shut up," the girl on Kim's right scoffs, her eyes burning with disdain. I can feel the complete look of shock on my face.

"Excuse me?" I reply, more confused than offended. I subconsciously take a step back. The milk on my tray sloshes over the rim.

"You heard me," Burning Eyes retorts, getting up from her seat. If I was in wolf-form, I would feel the fur on my back stand up, positioned for a brawl.

"Would you like to fill me in, because now I'm totally lost," I suggest, saying my thoughts.

"We know what your mother was. A trouble-making, provocative little slut, who did nothing but ruin this town and, frankly, we don't want you here."

"What are you talking about?" I blurt out, coming to the conclusion that small-town communities really like to hold grudges. It's not like my Mom murdered anyone. Although, Westbridge is the home of the criminally inclined. Who knows?

And I'm well aware I should be extremely pissed right now…I'm getting to that.

"Kim heard you on the phone. She told us the kind of girl you really are. We may not be snobby rich kids, but we don't associate with people like you. We all saw that stunt you pulled this morning with that sexy schoolgirl costume. You may have thought you were so clever hooking up with my boyfriend, but-"

"Just….hold up for a minute, please. I didn't hook up with anybody around here."

"Oh. So you're sayin' you're not good enough for any of the guys here, is that it? Because Ryan's got a bruise on his neck the size of a golf ball, and it got planted there the day you danced your skimpy little butt into town. Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do, so I just stare at her, frozen. Everyone is silent, waiting for me to deny it. Kim stands up and puts a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Cut it out, Dana," Kim commands in a soft, but steady voice. She's obviously not one for attention. I'm somewhat touched she's standing up for me and everything, despite the fact that she's the main reason I'm in this stupid mess.

"Why don't you tell us all why you're really here, Kiley?" Dana continues, ignoring Kim. "It's because you got knocked up and you're too ashamed to show your face in that pretty little city of yours."

I'm taken off guard by such a strong accusation. The pieces are clicking together in my head, and sadly, it seems more believable than the truth. My mom's the infamous slut. Word spreads around I'm her protégée. I've moved here at random with no public explanation, and then they see me throwing up at nine-thirty in the morning. Morning sickness. Chances are I'm pregnant. Ryan gets caught cheating and the fingers go straight to me.

The silence seems to make things worse, and the claim molds itself into the truth. My fate in La Push has been sealed by lunchtime. That has got to be a new record. I haven't even gotten though all the welcome-cobblers in the fridge.

On the plus side, in nine months this is going to be hysterical.

My natural instinct is to turn about and walk away. I'm not a violent person, and it's not like I haven't been called mean things before. The worst thing I could do is hit back, considering my super-strength could knock her teeth out. Maybe the guys would look the other way this time, regarding it as a contribution to the greater good. Something tells me this girl talks way too much.

I turn around and face the opposite side of the cafeteria, searching around for an empty table to retreat to. I see the pack watching me, waiting to see how I'll counter Dana's lies, and I understand the gravity of the situation. This isn't about defending my reputation; this is about running from Dana with my tail between my legs. I've always had my friends to handle punks like her, but, standing alone, I'm a coward.

I need to show the pack I can fight my own battles, or else they'll never give me a chance. The first thing that pops into my head is "What would Ronnie do right now?" Then I realize I want the girl scared, not dead.

I spin back around, drop my lunch tray, and it clashes to the ground, milk pooling around my shoes. I can almost hear Quil's mental wince at my wasted chili. He'll have to get over it.

"Listen here you little smart-mouthing liar," I begin, making her spring back one step. "I'm from Westbridge on the west side. Don't forget that. I'm not from some glamorous, highlife society. I've been carrying pepper spray around since I was five and could handle a switchblade at age nine. Last year, I got jumped by four guys and walked off without a scratch. (That's because I'm a fast runner, but she doesn't have to know that.)

Where I'm from, we don'ttake kindly to chicks who talk smack. Next time you spread fire around your pint-sized piece of a town, remember I have friends worse off that don't put up with 'people like you.'"

At this point I've got her loosely by the collar of her shirt. Kim stands beside Dana, wide-eyed in alarm, while Dana attempts to compose herself. She manages a fiery grimace, but it's nowhere near as confident as her previous expression. She certainly wasn't expecting that. In all honestly, neither was I. The switch inside me flicks off, and I let her go.

Since I've made my point, I believe it's socially acceptable to hide spinelessly in the bathroom and pity myself until next period. I make half a step towards the double doors, when all hell breaks loose.

Dana grabs me by the shoulder and spins me in her direction, clearly not finished with me yet. The problem with this is the milk on the floor causes me to lose my balance. I slip and crash into Kim, who hastily grabs my hair as I take her down with me. Her head hits the ground with a crack and yanking me down by fistfuls of my hair. In an instinctual attempt to stop the throbbing at my temples, I pry her hands off me and pin them to her sides.

While Kim and I are spending some much needed "girl time" together on the sticky cafeteria floor, a shrill, piercing wail echoes throughout the room. I put my hands over my ears, in an effort to tune out the sound. My eyes dart across the lunchroom, trying to seek out its source, but a crowd of students blocks my view as they run toward the exit.

At first I wonder why everybody's freaking out, but I encounter the answer when an ice-cold shower comes bursting from the ceiling.

"And then Jared pulled the fire alarm," I explain, ringing my hair out in Miss Martha Stuart's kitchen. "And the sprinklers went off."

The principal dismissed the entire school early due to the false alarm, so here I sit, reenacting my stupendous first day at tribal school. As fun as it was, retelling it to Sam just put the cherry on top of my big fat humiliating experience. Quil, Embry, and Paul are moving about the kitchen, digging around for dry towels or sandwich ingredients in the fridge. Despite the fact that we ate lunch an hour ago, I'm not surprised they're building up ham and cheese subs 6 inches tall.

"We sort of had to, Boss," Paul clarifies while rummaging through the fridge. "It looked like a fight from where we were standin.' Jared was gonna explode unless we let him do somethin' besides rippin' her throat out."

Sam's face has gone from a how-on-earth-did-you-manage-to-screw-up-today-Kiley to a what-the-hell-are-we-going-to-do-with-you expression. The story around the tribe is I threatened poor, poor Dana and tackled Kim due to my uncivilized nature. Thankfully my punishment has been averted on whoever pulled the fire alarm. Since Sam is the sheriff, I hardly doubt Jared's going to get more than a "don't let it happen again, unless Kiley sets the lunchroom on fire."

"I already told you, I slipped," I protest, while my thoughts turn over to Kim and Jared. From what we know there wasn't any serious damage from the fall, but now Jared is Kim's personal anti-Kiley bodyguard. Because, you know, the first thing I want to do now is make the town hate me even more than they already do.

"Okay. We have the real story. Now how are we going to fix it?" Embry inquires, placing a sandwich in front of me the size of his head.

"What do you mean 'fix it'?" I ask, taking a bite into my sub.

"You've been wrongly accused and now everybody in town buys stuck-up Dana Runner's stupid story. You can't honestly think that's okay."

"Wait, so you're not pregnant?" Quil questions with his mouth half-full of pre-dinner-lunch.

"Of course she isn't!" Paul exclaims, and, for a moment, I think he's actually defending my virtue. "I mean, who'd want to tap that!"

My hero.

"Shut up, Paul," Embry growls, and his eyes linger on my face. "Maybe you should tell us how this whole rumor started," he suggests. Quil, his mouth stuffed with food, nods encouragingly. I sigh and confess about the afternoon in the sandwich shop. Once I'm finished, Paul and Embry are trying to suppress their amusement, while Quil's in a fit of laughter. Sam's an uncomfortable shade of red, probably thinking "Oh God, why?"

My face in flushed in embarrassment, but, as I'm repeating the incident, something dawns on me.

"Now that I'm thinking about it, this may not a bad thing," I point out, causing each of their heads to shoot up in curiosity.

"What are you talking about?" Embry asks, misunderstanding furrowing his brow. "Everybody assumes you're some kind of slutty little street thug? How is that a good thing?"

"Sam says I need to stay away from people, right? You know, when I'm not running around in the woods with a bunch of half-naked boys. It's a perfect alibi."

"So you're saying you want the town to think you're a whore?" Paul accuses with raised eyebrows.

"If it keeps our secret safe, I don't see why not. Besides, I know who I really am, and you know who I really am, so what's the problem here?"

"Your dignity," Embry replies crossly.

"So does this mean we get to…like….make-out with you and stuff. Because if it keeps our secret safe, I'm willing to make that sacrifice…ya know…for the pack."

Embry walks over to Quil and takes the liberty of smacking him upside the head.

"Please. She can do so much better than you," Embry remarks.

"Let the lady speak for herself," Quil counters, rubbing his head.