The Movement of the Earth

Chapter 8: Secrets

you're a beautiful / a beautiful fucked up man / you're setting up your razor wire shrine
Sarah McLachlan, "Building A

8: Secrets
It was spring break in Forks again. I woke up on Monday morning and laid in bed for a few extra minutes, curled up and running my thumb across the tiny line of scar left exposed by my cast. I'd spent last year's spring break being hunted by a vampire, too. What a lousy tradition. I was pretty sure Angela had gotten to go to Miami Beach. Even with the drunken crowds, that sounded like it would be more fun than this.

When I finally came down for breakfast, Charlie was lifting the last strips of what looked to be an entire pound of bacon out of the frying pan. His new-found dedication to cooking took a lot of responsibility from my shoulders, but we would both have heart attacks soon if this kept up. "Mornin' Bells," he said cheerily, handing me a plate.

"Morning," I replied automatically, sitting down and taking a bite of the admittedly perfectly crisped bacon. Charlie's skills at cooking meat were undeniable, even if it couldn't be good for our respective cholesterol levels. "Thanks, this is good." I reminded myself to pick up some oatmeal and fruit when I next had a chance.

"So, a week off," he said, sitting down across from me at the little kitchen table. He pushed a stack of buttered toast in my direction. "Got any crazy plans?" His tone was light and joking, but the wariness in his eyes gave him away. Apparently I wasn't the only one thinking about last spring break this morning.

"Nope." The toast was perfectly done too, just brown enough, and butter-side down the way I liked it. "Just gonna hang out at La Push and be boring." It wasn't a lie - my part in this was uninteresting in the extreme. Worry, weed, and make Jacob miserable. Easy enough.

Charlie frowned, a piece of bacon midway to his mouth. "La Push? Again?"

Uh-oh. "Yeah," I said casually. "Jake's going to teach me how to change the oil on the truck." That part was officially a lie.

"We've already been invited over to the Blacks' for dinner tonight," Charlie said, his frown deepening. "So why don't you just hang around here today, sleep in, watch some... I don't know... soap operas, or something... and then we'll both go after I get off of work."

A sinking feeling pulled at my stomach. "That's all right, Dad. I'm not really in a Days of our Lives kind of mood. I'd rather go see Jacob."

Charlie took a bite of his bacon reluctantly, and we both ate in awkward, oppressive silence for a few moments. This wasn't good at all. If Charlie decided to investigate too closely...well, I wasn't exactly certain what would happen, but it would surely add one more problem to a situation that was already difficult enough.

"Bella," Charlie finally said, his voice dead serious, "I've been a cop since before you were born." I opened my mouth to protest, and he held up his hand, all business. This was Chief Swan speaking. "I do have a few instincts, and I know when a story has an odor to it. And whatever is going on down at the reservation right now doesn't smell right."

"There's nothing going on," I insisted. "Nothing serious, anyway. I was wrong about all that."

"No, I don't think you were," he said. "If it was just a bunch of kids being rowdy, that would be one thing, but Billy and Harry are acting strange now too. I don't know what's happening - yet - but I don't like it. Until this all gets sorted out, I want you to-"

"I know Billy's being weird," I interrupted desperately, trying to think as fast as I could. "But it's not... it's me, okay? It's about me. That's why everything feels off. It's me and Jacob."

Charlie blinked, his Chief Swan face switching off instantly. "What?"

"It's... well..." I hoped I could make this as close to the truth as possible while still putting Charlie on the wrong track; he was more likely to believe me if I wasn't making a story out of whole cloth. "Things with Jacob and I are... uh... changing. Sort of. Maybe. And I think Billy's not sure how he feels about it, and his friends don't really know me all that well, and so it's all just kind of... um... complicated," I finished lamely.