d. 

It was still too early, but I decided I'd better get out of the house before the inanimate objects 
started talking back. 

When I got to Newton's, Mike was methodically dry mopping the aisles while his mom 
arranged a new counter display. I caught them in the middle of an argument, unaware that I 
had arrived. 

"But it's the only time that Tyler can go," Mike complained. "You said after graduation -" 

"You're just going to have to wait," Mrs. Newton snapped. "You and Tyler can think of 
something else to do. You are not going to Seattle until the police stop whatever it is that is 
going on there. I know Beth Crowley has told Tyler the same thing, so don't act like I'm the 
bad guy - oh, good morning, Bella," she said when she caught sight of me, brightening her 
tone quickly. "You're early." 

Karen Newton was the last person I'd think to ask for help in an outdoor sports equipment 
store. Her perfectly highlighted blond hair was always smoothed into an elegant twist on the 
back of her neck, her fingernails were polished by professionals, as were her toenails - visible 

 

through the strappy high heels that didn't resemble anything Newton's offered on the long 
row of hiking boots. 

"Light traffic," I joked as I grabbed my hideous fluorescent orange vest out from under the 
counter. I was surprised that Mrs. Newton was as worked up about this Seattle thing as 
Charlie. I'd thought he was going to extremes. 

"Well, er . . ." Mrs. Newton hesitated for a moment, playing uncomfortably with a stack of 
flyers she was arranging by the register. 

I stopped with one arm in my vest. I knew that look. 

When I'd let the Newtons know that I wouldn't be working here this summer - abandoning 
them in their busiest season, in effect - they'd started training Katie Marshall to take my 
place. They couldn't really afford both of us on the payroll at the same time, so when it 
looked like a slow day . . . 

"I was going to call," Mrs. Newton continued. "I don't think we're expecting a ton of 
business today. Mike and I can probably handle things. I'm sorry you got up and drove out. . . 
." 

On a normal day, I would be ecstatic with this turn of events. Today . . . not so much. 

"Okay," I sighed. My shoulders slumped. What was I going to do now? 

"That's not fair, Mom," Mike said. "If Bella wants to work -" 

"No, it's okay, Mrs. Newton. Really, Mike. I've got finals to study for and stuff. . . ." I didn't 
want to be a source of familial discord when they were already arguing. 

"Thanks, Bella. Mike, you missed aisle four. Um, Bella, do you mind throwing these flyers in 
a Dumpster on the way out? I told the girl who left them here that I'd put them on the 
counter, but I really don't have the room." 

"Sure, no problem." I put my vest away, and then tucked the flyers under my arm and headed 
out into the misty rain. 

The Dumpster was around the side of Newton's, next to where we employees were supposed 
to park. I shuffled along, kicking pebbles petulantly on my way. I was about to fling the stack 
of bright yellow papers into the trash when the heading printed in bold across the top caught 
my eye. One word in particular seized my attention. 

I clutched the papers in both hands as I stared at the picture beneath the caption. A lump rose 
in my throat. 

SAVE THE OLYMPIC WOLF 

 

Under the words, there was a detailed drawing of a wolf in front of a fir tree, its head thrown 
back in the act of baying at the moon. It was a disconcerting picture; something about the 
wolf's plaintive posture made him look forlorn. Like he was howling in grief. 

And then I was running to my truck, the flyers still locked in my grip. 

Fifteen minutes - that's all I had. But it should be long enough. It was only fifteen minutes to 
La Push, and surely I would cross the boundary line a few minutes before I hit the town. 

My truck roared to life without any difficulty. 

Alice couldn't have seen me doing this, because I hadn't been planning it. A snap decision, 
that was the key! And as long as I moved fast enough, I should be able to capitalize on it. 

I'd thrown the damp flyers in my haste and they were scattered in a bright mess across the 
passenger seat - a hundred bolded captions, a hundred dark howling wolves outlined against 
the yellow background. 

I barreled down the wet highway, turning the windshield wipers on high and ignoring the 
groan of the ancient engine. Fifty-five was the most I could coax out of my truck, and I 
prayed it would be enough. 

I had no clue where the boundary line was, but I began to feel safer as I passed the first 
houses outside La Push. This must be beyond where Alice was allowed to follow. 

I'd call her when I got to Angela's this afternoon, I reasoned, so that she'd know I was fine. 
There was no reason for her to get worked up. She didn't need to be mad at me - Edward 
would be angry enough for two when he got back. 

My truck was positively wheezing by the time it grated to a stop in front of the familiar faded 
red house. The lump came back to my throat as I stared at the little place that had once been 
my refuge. It had been so long since I'd been here. 

Before I could cut the engine, Jacob was standing in the door, his face blank with shock. 

In the sudden silence when the truck-roar died, I heard him gasp. 

"Bella?" 

"Hey, Jake!" 

"Bella!" he yelled back, and the smile I'd been waiting for stretched across his face like the 
sun breaking free of the clouds. His teeth gleamed bright against his russet skin. "I can't 
believe it!" 

He ran to the truck and half-yanked me through the open door, and then we were both 
jumping up and down like kids. 

 

"How did you get here?" 

"I snuck out!" 

"Awesome!" 

"Hey, Bella!" Billy had rolled himself into the doorway to see what all the commotion was 
about. 

"Hey, Bil -!" 

Just then my air choked off - Jacob grabbed me up in a bear hug too tight to breathe and 
swung me around in a circle. 

"Wow, it's good to see you here!" 

"Can't . . . breathe," I gasped. 

He laughed and put me down. 

"Welcome back, Bella," he said, grinning. And the way he said the words made it sound like 
welcome home . 

We started walking, too keyed up to sit still in the house. Jacob was practically bouncing as 
he moved, and I had to remind him a few times that my legs weren't ten feet long. 

As we walked, I felt myself settling into another version of myself, the self I had been with 
Jacob. A little younger, a little less responsible. Someone who might, on occasion, do 
something really stupid for no good reason. 

Our exuberance lasted through the first few topics of conversation: how we were doing, 
what we were up to, how long I had, and what had brought me here. When I hesitantly told 
him about the wolf flyer, his bellowing laugh echoed back from the trees. 

But then, as we ambled past the back of the store and shoved through the thick scrub that 
ringed the far edge of First Beach, we got to the hard parts. All too soon we had to talk 
about the reasons behind our long separation, and I watched as the face of my friend 
hardened into the bitter mask that was already too familiar. 

"So what's the story, anyway?" Jacob asked me, kicking a piece of driftwood out of his way 
with too much force. It sailed over the sand and then clattered against the rocks. "I mean, 
since the last time we . . . well, before, you know . . ." He struggled for the words. He took a 
deep breath and tried again. "What I'm asking is . . . everything is just back to the way it was 
before he left? You forgave him for all of that?" 

I took a deep breath. "There was nothing to forgive." 

 

I wanted to skip past this part, the betrayals, the accusations, but I knew that we had to talk 
it through before we'd be able to move on to anything else. 

Jacob's face puckered up like he'd just licked a lemon. "I wish Sam had taken a picture when 
he found you that night last September. It would be exhibit A." 

"Nobody's on trial." 

"Maybe somebody should be." 

"Not even you would blame him for leaving, if you knew the reason why." 

He glared at me for a few seconds. "Okay," he challenged acidly. "Amaze me." 

His hostility was wearing on me - chafing against the raw; it hurt to have him angry with me. 
It reminded me of the bleak afternoon, long ago, when - under orders from Sam - he'd told 
me we couldn't be friends. I took a second to compose myself. 

"Edward left me last fall because he didn't think I should be hanging out with vampires. He 
thought it would be healthier for me if he left." 

Jacob did a double take. He had to scramble for a minute. Whatever he'd been planning to 
say, it clearly no longer applied. I was glad he didn't know the catalyst behind Edward's 
decision. I could only imagine what he'd think if he knew Jasper had tried to kill me. 

"He came back, though, didn't he?" Jacob muttered. "Too bad he can't stick to a decision." 

"If you remember, I went and got him ." 

Jacob stared at me for a moment, and then he backed off. His face relaxed, and his voice was 
calmer when he spoke. 

"That's true. So I never did get the story. What happened?" 

I hesitated, biting my lip. 

"Is it a secret?" His voice took on a taunting edge. "Are you not allowed to tell me?" 

"No," I snapped. "It's just a really long story." 

Jacob smiled, arrogant, and turned to walk up the beach, expecting me to follow. 

It was no fun being with Jacob if he was going to act like this. I trailed behind him 
automatically, not sure if I shouldn't turn around and leave. I was going to have to face Alice, 
though, when I got home. . . . I supposed I wasn't in any rush. 

Jacob walked to a huge, familiar piece of driftwood - an entire tree, roots and all, blea