The Movement of the Earth

Chapter 7: Cold

sometimes the thought comes to my mind / that i myself will drown
Crooked Still, "Sometimes in This Country"
7: Cold

The drive down to La Push the next morning was silent. Charlie, I suspected, was still nervous and not a little confused by the situation's sudden about-face. Not talkative under the best of circumstances, he didn't so much as mutter under his breath.

I was mostly quiet because I still had so much to process. The few hours of sleep I had managed to grab didn't do much to help me deal with the new circumstances I found myself in. Jacob was a werewolf; we were bonded for life unless he could get out of it without driving himself to insanity; the Quileute tribe and the Cold Ones were locked in a generational battle of ancient enmity; my last connection to Edward was gone.

Still, what right did I have to complain, really? All I had to do was assimilate the information - and then sit still while everyone else put themselves in danger and did all the work.

I really hated it.

Jacob was waiting on the front steps when we pulled up. He leapt to his feet almost the moment the engine of the cruiser was cut, but the movement wasn't as quick as I knew it could have been; in fact, he looked exhausted. I suddenly realized that Sam had to have the pack chasing Victoria at night, as well as during the day - so when had Jacob last slept?

Charlie narrowed his eyes as he unbuckled his seat belt. "Why isn't that kid wearing a shirt?"

I could hardly say, 'Because he's trying to save his clothes,' so I tried to think of an excuse as fast as I could - and the one that came out of my mouth was: "Well, look at him."

Silence.

My face turned so red I was surprised I didn't burst a blood vessel.

After a long, horrifying moment, Charlie finally said, "Um... yeah."

I nodded and jumped out of the cruiser so fast I twisted my ankle on the ground. There was something wrong with my brain. I needed more sleep, or a vacation to a quiet tropical island, or a straitjacket, or something.

Jacob gave a tiny wave to my father as he walked up. "Hi, Charlie," he said, but his eyes were on me, taking quick glances over my face and my body. My blush deepened. I supposed I'd have to get used to Jacob looking at me like that after we'd been apart, even if it was only for sixteen hours.

It probably didn't take a chief of police to notice that something was very different; Charlie glanced between Jacob and I a few times before slamming the car door shut. "Decided to cut your hair?" he said abruptly, his eyes hard.

Jacob flinched and reached up for a ponytail that was no longer there. "It's more convenient," he replied.

Charlie made a gruff noise, still eyeing Jacob suspiciously. I mentally kicked myself for flying off the handle so badly the other day and convincing Charlie there was a dangerous gang down on the reservation that was sucking in innocent boys and turning them into cultists. Even if it wasn't entirely inaccurate.

Luckily, at that moment, Billy rolled into the doorway of the little house. "Charlie!" he called, as though they had never had a harsh word between them. "The pregame coverage is starting!"

There was a long pause, as Charlie looked up at Billy, then back to Jacob, a deep frown on his face. Finally he gave the smallest of shrugs - essentially saying that he didn't know what the hell was going on but would let it go... but only for now. "All right," he called back, then turned to Jacob. "Where are you kids going?"

"The beach," Jacob answered immediately. "Since the weather's nice."

"Right," Charlie said. He scratched the back of his neck, then glanced at me. "Um... don't fall into anything."