Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
Let me know if you want to hear more. This chapter was sort of a set-up chapter, so the rest will be more exciting. Definitely rated M- possibly offensive material not censored. Review, please.
I held the cheaply rolled joint between my thumb and pointer finger, just watching it burn. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the weed. It was good stuff, the green kind. The kind that will make you forget.
"Shit, we're gonna be late," El said in her distinctively raspy voice. Since I got held back last year and have to repeat senior year, she's my best friend, I guess. I don't think I have any real friends. She might be the exception though; I got high for the first time with El.
We were at my house, and she was sleeping over. I don't really remember why I let her; usually I prefer to be alone. Since my Dad died and my Mom checked out of the family, I spent most of my time in bed, hating the world. Anyway, for whatever reason she was over. I remember her reaching into her bag and pulling out a crinkled up piece of newspaper. She unfolded it carefully, revealing the green-brown plant inside. It looked like an herb, but smelled a lot stronger. She took out her homemade bong- it was a plastic water bottle- and filled it with some water. Asked me if I wanted to try it. I thought why the hell not, what else am I gonna do? So she showed me how.
I held one finger to the hole in the back of the bong. Put my mouth over the other punctured hole. The sweet smelling crushed grass went in a hole at the top of the bottle. She used her short, stubby, pink nails to flick the blue and orange lighter. I inhaled as long as I could; it burned the back of my throat, made my eyes water. After I couldn't stand it anymore, I handed the bottle back to her. El inhaled the rest while I coughed like the prude that I was. For whatever reason, I was scared of getting caught. I even made her go in the closet to smoke- the last thing I needed was my Mom all over me. But then… the high kicked in. I didn't worry anymore after that. Everything faded, and I could just…be. I was finally able to think clearly, sleep deeply, and most of all, forget.
Forget him. Sam. The guy who broke my fucking heart. After that first time smoking in my bedroom at three a.m., my life finally started to get better.
"Leah!" El sounded annoyed. "Can you hear me or what? We can't be late again, or Mr. Goering is gonna flip a shit!"
I blinked a few times, coming back to the present. Thank god she cared about being on time, or I probably wouldn't graduate this year…again.
Class was boring, as usual. It was chemistry. Or maybe math. There were a lot of numbers. I couldn't care though, not about anything. I was mellow and loving it. Most of my teachers didn't bother me anyways- probably because my eyes were always red, like I hadn't slept. Some people knew I was high in most classes, but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything.
Since the first time almost a month ago, I hadn't had to phase at all. I dropped my shifts, sure, and he was pissed. But they just assumed Leah was being a pain in the ass, per usual. So they didn't know anything was different. The guys would probably tell me I was an idiot. Like I need them to tell me- I already know that I've thrown my life away. It was over a long time ago. Fuck being a "protector" of La Push. Whatever that means. Protector is code for fucked. You're forced into it whether you like it or not. Hey, congratulations, you're a friggin' mythological monster. Now hand over your life and your free will.
Ugh, whatever. Thinking about my totally spectacular life made me need some pot, really bad. El had promised to introduce me to her friend and supplier, Adam, later today. That would just have to get me through the next few class periods.
"Yo, Leah, why so bitchy today?" came Seth's usual greeting. I ignored him; that was my usual greeting. Brothers are such a pain in my ass.
I sat on the grass outside the brown, dilapidated school and proceeded to shovel three sandwiches into my mouth. That was the only plus of being a werewolf- you can eat whatever you want and still look good. But even all the food didn't settle the emptiness in the pit of my stomach- after only three weeks I had really developed a taste for weed. El called in unnatural. I thought of it more like a duck taking to water- very, very natural.
I looked up from my brooding- something I did only rarely. I avoided eye contact as a rule. Especially with other "pack members". They knew me better than I cared to know my self. How pathetic is that?
Paul was staring at me. More like scrutinizing me. He wasn't tall, maybe only a couple of inches taller than my five-foot eight. Even for a werewolf, he was on the wiry side. Sure, he had muscles, but not a lot compared to some of the others. He always kept his black hair closely shaved to his head. Like some kind of goddamn jarhead. Paul's skin was so dark he looked almost black. It was kind of cool in the way bearded women are cool. He was unusual, I had to give him that. But still an asshole.
"What?" I snapped at him, getting irritated now. I had the weirdest feeling that he was x-raying me- red eyes with dark circles below them, the way my legs jiggled and twitched, and the way I breathed so slowly.
His black eyes just kept staring at me. I hated feeling like any of them pitied me. Oh, poor Leah, he left her. That's right, he fucking left. So what? Shit happens all the time.
I was really getting annoyed now- and anxious. I needed something soon, school be damned. I flipped him one of my fingers with chipped black polish on it- the middle one to be exact, and ran towards my car.
I sat in the cheap black sedan and reached into the glove box. I had some old stuff in here, but it would do. I rolled it up with some spare paper and pulled on the blunt greedily. When I exhaled the swirling clouds of smoke, I felt the familiar sense of release. I still had to go over to his house tonight- and his fucking wife would be there, of course- but now it seemed manageable. Not such a big deal.
I have no idea how long I sat there with the windows rolled up, just getting stoned from the air that was swirling around the car. The smoke was so pretty- the way it furled in and around itself. If I wasn't a werewolf, I think I would want to be smoke. I started to laugh. Who the hell ever heard of wanting to be smoke? I kept giggling- what would people think? Then I decided I didn't give a shit. Fuck them, I wanted to be smoke.
"Mar-ij-a-wanna." I rolled the word around my mouth, slurring the syllables and pronouncing it phonetically. I laughed again- that word was so messed up. Why not pronounce the J? I decided to pronounce the J. So I repeated it, over and over again, laughing a little less each time.
Eventually I rolled down the windows, breathing in some clean air. If I had to go over there later, Sam would be able to smell it on me right away. He was actually one of the few people around here that wasn't a total dumbass.
Brown-skinned kids started pouring out of the school, and I waited for the short one with blonde streaks to get in my car.
"Hey Leah," El said. "Ditched again? You're never gonna graduate."
I snorted and rolled my eyes. It's not like I was headed to college. Being a werewolf didn't exactly require some type of degree.
"So are you going to introduce me to Adam, or am I just gonna have to keep freeloading off of your stash?"
El glared at me, not amused. "Let's go, then. I'll show you the way."
It was quiet the rest of the ride, El pointed where I needed to turn. She could be annoying, but it was simple to shut her up. Most people are easy to fuck around with. But unlike most people, she forgot about it almost right away. No doubt within ten minutes she'd be jabbering on, giving me a migraine the size of Texas.
"This is it?" I asked, kicking open the cheap car door. It always stuck. I looked the house up and down. The top-level windows were boarded up, the porch steps sagging, the ugly yellow paint peeling away from the wood. It was such a goddamn cliché- the grungy looking home of the town druggie.
El and I cautiously walked up the wretched looking front steps and she banged one, two, three times with the rusty knocker. The guy who opened up must have been Adam. He was tall and, like everyone in La Push, dark. His hair was shoulder length and untamed, his muscles exposed by a white cotton wife-beater. Basically, your average, everyday drug dealer.
"El." His voice was rough and low; I guessed that the back of his throat was raw and inflamed from smoking often.
"Adam." El replied. What was up with the monotone greetings? "This is my friend, Leah."
"Hey," I said, lamely. I hated talking to people.
Adam didn't reply, just turned around and reached for something inside the door. When he emerged, he was holding two brown paper bags. It was all so predictable I wanted to puke. When did I become the girl you love to hate in a bad soap opera?
"Here," he said, handing one to El. She smoothly slipped him some green, crumpled paper.
Adam looked me up and down, taking in the toned physique that came with morphing into a supernatural beast. From the way his brown eyes took their time about it, not trying to be inconspicuous, I gathered that he also appreciated the way I dressed; for warm weather. A body temperature of a hundred and nine degrees tends to make it feel like the middle of July in Africa pretty quick.
"Here," he told me, shoving the sack roughly into my hands. "No charge…'cuz you're cute." He winked one red, puffy eye in my direction. Gag.
I tried to smile appreciatively as we turned and walked back to my crappy ride. The metal door slammed against the frame, and then there was silence behind us.
El's short, flip-flop adorned legs climbed into the car, followed by my long, muscular ones.
I revved the engine and she simultaneously turned to me, arching one plucked eyebrow. "So? What do you think?"
I grinned back at her, unexplainably chipper. Or I should say, less depressed than usual. "I think that I like Adam," I told her, looking into the brown bag.
Yeah, I liked Adam a lot.
All too soon, El was gone and I was standing inside a small, painfully cheery kitchen. A person could suffocate with all the bodies in here. The guys were all huge and hot- literally, warm- and it made me claustrophobic. I kept my sore eyes on the linoleum. I didn't want to look around their home more than necessary. It should be m—
Get a grip, I told myself. I hated when my head did that- exactly what I didn't want it to.
"Okay, guys," Sam called in a booming voice. I snorted loudly.
"And girl," he corrected, sounding aggravated already. Perfect. Aggravated and pissed was the way I liked to keep them. That way, it was so much easier to pretend to hate Sam.
"When Paul was on duty last night," he began. Cue the meaningful glare to lazy-ass Leah. After said conspicuous glare was completed, he continued. "He picked up a trail. It was fresh, but disappeared around the water. Just one, and he'll probably come back. So we are meeting here tonight, outside, phased and ready to go. Midnight. Any questions?"
No one even looked up. We had had about a dozen of these false alarms in the past six months.
"Alright! Let's get some leeches!" Seth crowed. He and Colin were the only ones who found this exciting anymore. It was pretty much them and serious-and-solemn-as-ever-Sam on the enthusiasm front. I thought that this was all a waste of time. I sighed melodramatically, to prove my point.
I looked up then, before spinning to leave. That was a mistake. Sam had glanced my way when I sighed. Usually he avoided looking at me. I knew that he felt guilty. He saw me as a bitter old harpy. They all thought I was going to die alone. Fuck them, I wouldn't be alone; I was going to take my bong with me.
But this glance was different. If Sam looked at me at all anymore, it was with pity. In this second, though, his eyes were different. Instead of pinched with regret, they were wide and clear. The dark brown and gold that I had long ago memorized seemed to trap me and I couldn't look away. Before all of this shit, I would stare into them forever. I had believed every promise he ever made me. But then again, so did he.
Before I could crack, I slouched out of their house, Mr. and Mrs. Sam Uley's house, and ran for the forest. I needed a release. I needed to not think.
I had a feeling that Adam was going to become my new best friend.