It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to be around — she didn’t feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.
During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike — with Jessica shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy who had acted as spokesperson.
A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face. However, my positive opinion of his looks was damaged by the first words out of his mouth.
“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?”
It was like the first day of school all over again.
“Bella,” I sighed.
“I’m Jacob Black.” He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. “You bought my dad’s truck.”
“Oh,” I said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. “You’re Billy’s son. I probably should remember you.”
“No, I’m the youngest of the family — you would remember my older sisters.”
“Rachel and Rebecca,” I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I’d kicked up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.
“Are they here?” I examined the girls at the ocean’s edge, wondering if I would recognize them now.
“No.” Jacob shook his head. “Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer — she lives in Hawaii now.”
“Married. Wow.” I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than I was.
“So how do you like the truck?” he asked.
“I love it. It runs great.”
“Yeah, but it’s really slow,” he laughed. “I was so relived when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn’t let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there.”
“It’s not that slow,” I objected.
“Have you tried to go over sixty?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Good. Don’t.” He grinned.
I couldn’t help grinning back. “It does great in a collision,” I offered in my truck’s defense.
“I don’t think a tank could take out that old monster,” he agreed with another laugh.
“So you build cars?” I asked, impressed.
“When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?” he added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.
“Sorry,” I laughed, “I haven’t seen any lately, but I’ll keep my eyes open for you.” As if I knew what that was. He was very easy to talk with.
He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was learning to recognize. I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“You know Bella, Jacob?” Lauren asked — in what I imagined was an insolent tone — from across the fire.
“We’ve sort of known each other since I was born,” he laughed, smiling at me again.
“How nice.” She didn’t sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her pale, fishy eyes narrowed.
“Bella,” she called again, watching my face carefully, “I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn’t anyone think to invite them?” Her expression of concern was unconvincing.