The Movement of the Earth

Chapter 10: Insight

i get so tired working so hard for our survival / i look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
Sara Bareilles, "In Your Eyes"

9: Insight

Jacob didn't come back to the bonfire. In the end, it was Embry that rode home with me as my bodyguard; I was silent, and he very wisely kept his mouth shut as well.

I phoned Billy and asked him to have Jacob call me when he got home. Billy took the message, but warned that he didn't think Jacob was likely to be in until very late. I said that I would pick up no matter what hour it was.

I watched a baseball game with Charlie, which at least seemed to feature a lot more strategy than simply running a ball back and forth. He explained some of the finer details, like the difference between a curveball and a changeup, until finally I asked, "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you sit on the couch?"

Charlie turned and gave me a strange look, but said, "Sure." He got out of the recliner and settled onto the sofa - then his eyes widened as I scooted over and leaned my head on his shoulder.

After a few long moments, my father gently stroked my hair. "Are you okay, kiddo?"

I nodded, knowing that if I tried to speak I would start to cry.

"Uh... do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head.

"Okay." And he continued to stroke my hair as he told me all about breaking sliders.
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It was still midnight in the forest - the sky the deepest of blacks, but the moon full and shining. I stood in front of the dying oak again; the moss had climbed all the way up the trunk and was beginning to consume the branches.

I felt like I should do something, like there was some action I should be taking. Something. My hands twitched with it. I didn't want to peel away the moss, not anymore, but maybe I should water it? Or chop down the tree, let it rot on the ground?

But I left it alone. The moss and tree seemed to know what to do all on their own...

There was no Missed Call on my cell phone when I woke up.
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had hoped Jacob would come back in the morning for bodyguard duty, but that foolish optimism was quickly dashed; when I opened the front door just after Charlie had left for work, it was Jared who leaned against the frame looking like death warmed over. "Are you all right?"

He yawned. "Just tired. No big deal."

"Yeah, yeah, you're all big tough werewolves who don't need any rest," I said bitterly. I glanced down; he was still wearing those ridiculous - and now extremely dirty - tuxedo pants. It reminded me that I still hadn't found any shoes... but then an idea came to me. "Hang on for a minute, okay?"

"Sure," he said, rubbing his eyes like a little boy.

It took me a few trips through the house to find what I was looking for, but eventually I sat down on the stairs with everything I needed. I tossed Jared a can of Coke; he popped it open with a fizzy noise and drank it in one gulp. "Thanks," he said. Then he burped. "What are you doing?"

"Making shorts." Using a pair of fabric scissors, I cut a pair of Charlie's sweats just below the knee. He had a lot more spare sweats than shoes; he'd never miss them. When I was finished, I held the pants out with a smile - then faltered at the almost angry look on Jared's face. "What?"

"I don't need charity, Bella," he said coldly.

"It's not charity!" I protested, taken aback. "I just... thought you might want them, is all. So you wouldn't have to wear light blue anymore-"