Jake and I skipped out early, to get some privacy. We went out to his garage and sat in the Rabbit. Jacob leaned his head back, his face drawn with exhaustion.
"You need some sleep, Jake."
"I'll get around to it."
He reached over and took my hand. His skin was blazing on mine.
"Is that one of those wolf things?" I asked him. "The heat, I mean."
"Yeah. We run a little warmer than the normal people. About one-oh-eight, one-oh-nine. I never get cold anymore. I could stand like this"-he gestured to his bare torso-"in a snowstorm and it wouldn't bother me. The flakes would turn to rain where I stood."
"And you all heal fast-that's a wolf thing, too?"
"Yeah, wanna see? It's pretty cool." His eyes flipped open and he grinned. He reached around me to the glove compartment and dug around for a minute. His hand came out with a pocketknife.
"No, I do not want to see!" I shouted as soon as I realized what he was thinking. "Put that away!"
Jacob chuckled, but shoved the knife back where it belonged. "Fine. It's a good thing we heal, though. You can't go see just any doctor when you're running a temperature that should mean you're dead."
"No, I guess not." I thought about that for a minute. ". . . And being so big-that's part of it? Is that why you're all worried about Quil?"
"That and the fact that Quil's grandfather says the kid could fry an egg on his forehead." Jacob's face turned hopeless. "It won't be long now. There's no exact age . . . it just builds and builds and then suddenly-" He broke off, and it was a moment before he could speak again. "Sometimes, if you get really upset or something, that can trigger it early. But I wasn't upset about anything-I was happy." He laughed bitterly. "Because of you, mostly. That's why it didn't happen to me sooner. Instead it just kept on building up inside me-I was like a time bomb. You know what set me off? I got back from that movie and Billy said I looked weird. That was all, but I just snapped. And then I-I exploded. I almost ripped his face off-my own father!" He shuddered, and his face paled.
"Is it really bad, Jake?" I asked anxiously, wishing I had some way to help him. "Are you miserable?"
"No, I'm not miserable," he told me. "Not anymore. Not now that you know. That was hard, before." He leaned over so that his cheek was resting on top of my head.
He was quiet for a moment, and I wondered what he was thinking about. Maybe I didn't want to know.
"What's the hardest part?" I whispered, still wishing I could help.
"The hardest part is feeling . . . out of control," he said slowly. "Feeling like I can't be sure of myself-like maybe you shouldn't be around me, like maybe nobody should. Like I'm a monster who might hurt somebody. You've seen Emily. Sam lost control of his temper for just one second . . . and she was standing too close. And now there's nothing he can ever do to put it right again. I hear his thoughts-I know what that feels like . . .
"Who wants to be a nightmare, a monster?
"And then, the way it comes so easily to me, the way I'm better at it than the rest of them-does that make me even less human than Embry or Sam? Sometimes I'm afraid that I'm losing myself."
"Is it hard? To find yourself again?"
"At first," he said. "It takes some practice to phase back and forth. But it's easier for me."
"Why?" I wondered.
"Because Ephraim Black was my father's grandfather, and Quil Ateara was my mother's grandfather."
"Quil?" I asked in confusion.
"His great-grandfather," Jacob clarified. "The Quil you know is my second cousin."
"But why does it matter who your great-grandfathers are?"
"Because Ephraim and Quil were in the last pack. Levi Uley was the third. It's in my blood on both sides. I never had a chance. Like Quil doesn't have a chance."
His expression was bleak.
"What's the very best part?" I asked, hoping to cheer him up.
"The best part," he said, suddenly smiling again, "is the speed."
"Better than the motorcycles?"
He nodded, enthusiastic. "There's no comparison."
"How fast can you . . . ?"
"Run?" he finished my question. "Fast enough. What can I measure it by? We caught . . . what was his name? Laurent? I imagine that means more to you than it would to someone else."
It did mean something to me. I couldn't imagine that-the wolves running faster than a vampire. When the Cullens ran, they all but turned invisible with speed.
"So, tell me something I don't know," he said. "Something about vampires. How did you stand it, being around them? Didn't it creep you out?"