Jacob Black and Me

Surface Wounds

I awoke to the sound of rustling leaves, warm and supremely comfortable. For a moment I basked in blissful ignorance, before I recalled the events of yesterday afternoon.

I was in way over my head. Not only did the vampyres know that I knew about them, but now I had provoked one of them. Attacked one of them. It didn't matter that they didn't bleed; they would now be after me for real. Suddenly the banal complications of fitting in at school seemed absurd; obscene even. How could I possibly pretend to be immersed in Romeo and Juliet, constitutional law and the Sound of Music when... my life was in danger?

As I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, I felt a cold sense of dread descend over me. I had no idea what I was dealing with here. I had stumbled upon a vampyre once before Jane, by pure accident. He hadn't even seen me; he'd been too... busy.

I shivered remembering the dull, hopeless way she had clutched at his jacket. His teeth in her neck, hand fisted in her hair.

I shook the image from my mind. Instead, I welcomed in a more inviting one; Jacob, with his burnt caramel skin, corded muscle, genuine smile and easy manner... the same Jacob who had expected me to hang out with him yesterday afternoon.

I didn't know what I was going to say to him. 'Oh, yeah, I really wanted to come but I ran into a not-so-friendly vampire who tried to kill me, and from whom I barely escaped with my life' didn't seem to cut it. He would probably think I was crazy.

At school, I walked through the main hall towards Sasha's locker after collecting my own books for History, which we both had together. I seemed to be attracting a lot of odd looks, which I simply couldn't account for; I was wearing a perfectly normal outfit (tank top and jeans) and it seemed a little too early for any untrue rumours to be spreading around. Baffled, I made my way over to Sasha, whose eyes went wide as she let out a loud gasp. She grabbed me by the hand.

"Bathroom. Now."

Once inside, she pulled me over to the mirror, where I saw large, purple bruise, fully-formed, on the side of my neck. Instantly I realized it had been left there by the vampyre when he had cut me last night; but furthermore, I realized what the sophomores of La Push would believe it really was.

Sasha had her hands on her hips. "Girl, you have some explaining to do. Which Forks hottie gave you that hickey?"

I let out an incredulous, nervous laugh. My words came out in a jumbled mess as I tried to think of an excuse that was neither a confirmation of a hickey nor a close scrape with a vampyre.

"It's not – I didn't, I mean, it's not what it looks like, I had an accident – hair straightener..." I faltered as Sasha raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Whatever. You can tell me about it later. But we have to cover this up."

A few minutes later, by the grace of God and Sasha's expensive concealer, barely anything could be seen. As a finishing touch, Sasha added a spritz of hairspray "It won't come off, that way" – and we were only one minute late for class with Dr. Shulzman. 

I was surprised at my own disappointment at not finding Jacob there; I don't know why I expected him to take history, of all subjects; but I had hoped to apologize for standing him up yesterday. Trying to hide my dismay, I sat down at a desk opposite Sasha and pulled out my textbook on the Russian revolution.

The class was particularly difficult and Dr. Schulzman was ruthless, picking students out randomly to answer questions about Tsar Nicholas's inadequacies and the rise of Bolshevism.

"Serena, perhaps you'd oblige us."

My head jerked up from my notes. "Sorry?"

Dr. Schulzman sighed dramatically, motioning to the board. "How did the Kornilov affair isolate Kerensky?" he repeated with the air of someone who feels forced to commit a terrible crime.

I sifted desperately through my brain, trying desperately to pull out some information that wasn't to do with vampyres, werewolves, Jacob Black or supposed hickeys. "Oh... um, is it because..." my voice grew stronger, "the left felt that they he couldn't be trusted because he had flirted with the idea of a military dictatorship, and the right felt as though they had betrayed him for employing the help of the Bolsheviks."

Mr. Schulzman looked pleasantly surprised, and turned to a boy named David at the back of the classroom, who looked like he smoked a pack a day and was at school for some indeterminable reason. "And David, how exactly did the Bolsheviks beat Kornilov's military forces?"

I joined Sasha's group in the cafeteria which offered mainly soggy sandwiches and supermarket-brand chips. Sasha's motley collection of friends was a rowdy one, but they were amusing, and had included me in their plans to see a movie on Friday.

Sasha was busy lamenting that she would never find a boyfriend in Forks because they were all douche-bags, when I spotted Jacob Black on the other side of the cafeteria. He wasn't looking at me, but seemed wholly engaged in conversation with his friends, who seemed more like family with their similarly tanned skin and dark hair. How was I supposed to just go over there and apologize? And what if he didn't really care anyway?

He caught me looking over, and immediately his gaze turned stony, and he looked down. He seemed to be mulling something over, and I felt a wave of guilt washing over me. I turned back around to my group, momentarily forgetting the conversation.

"You're just saying that because you don't have a boyfriend. I bet if you were with someone you wouldn't hate boys so much." a guy named Todd asserted.

Sasha looked affronted. "That is so not true."

I felt a warm hand slap on my shoulder, and whirled around. "Jacob!"

It was impossible to read his emotions; so neutral was his expression. But again I was struck by the fullness and softness of his eyes and the way his lips curled up at the edge as though he were perpetually about to smile.
"Serena," he said by way of greeting; I liked the way my name sounded on his lips. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sasha gaping open mouthed at me, her gaze flicking between me and Jacob, Jacob and me. I hated to think what she was concluding underneath that jet black hair. the conversation at our table had now lowered to mere whispers; I was painfully aware that everyone was tuning into our conversation.

Jacob grinned, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I didn't see you last night." His voice was soft and casual, but I sensed a hurt there.

I swallowed. "I know. I had a meeting with Ms. Faraday. We were talking about auditions." I spoke truthfully, without a hint of anxiety, but I saw his gaze slide down to my neck. I felt a blush bleed into my cheeks; had the concealer rubbed off?

It had.

Jacob's face darkened, but more than that, he looked deeply worried.