friends

It turned out the motorcycles would be plenty safe just kept in the garage. As Jules explained, Bonnie's wheelchair couldn't maneuver the uneven ground separating it from the house, so she never went out there.

Jules started immediately into the red bike, which was going to be mine, pulling it apart piece by piece and laying them out on the ground around her like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I sat on a pile of cinder blocks in the corner, listening to her talk as she worked, meandering from one funny story to the next, most of them set at her school. She had two best friends she mentioned more than the others.

When she paused between stories, I couldn't help but say, "Quil and Em, those are unusual names."

Jules chuckled. "Quil's is a hand-me-down, from her great grandmother. It's actually Quilla, but she doesn't go by that too much. Don't ever call her Tequila, she'll kill you. And Em is for Emma."

I was interested to learn more about Jules's friends. I opened my mouth to ask more, but just then I heard a voice calling in the distance.

"Jules?" said the voice, from some ways away, but growing closer. "Jules!"

I strained to make out the voice, feeling a flicker of panic. "That isn't Bonnie, is it?"

Jules groaned and slumped. "No. I swear, somehow they time it this way on purpose."

"Jules?" the voice called again, sing-song. "Oh, Juuulieee—"

"In here!" Jules shouted back, then muttered, "Sheesh."

A minute later a pair of dark-faced teenagers appeared around the edge of the garage entrance. They were both girls, one almost as tall as Jules, with curtains of black hair that hung about her face, and the other was small and slender, with cropped hair that had obviously been done by a stylist, with dark eyes accentuated by heavy eyeliner.

The two of them stopped where they were, and as they laid eyes on me, they stared. They shared a significant look, and in unison their mouth split into wide, crafty smiles.

"Hey, Jules," said the shorter one, eyes glittering, the clear lip-gloss on her lips catching the light as her grin widened. "Wondered what you were up to. And who's this?"

Jules didn't fail to catch the suggestion in the emphasis, and her russet skin seemed to turn a touch redder than usual.

"Hey, Quil, Em," Jules said, obviously trying to sound casual. "This is a friend of mine. Beau Swan."

The smaller one was looking straight at me, still with a kind of sly half grin on her face. "Charlie's kid, right?" She offered me a slender hand to shake, and her nails were long and manicured. "I'm Quilla Ateara, very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," I answered. I almost had to laugh at the way she was looking at me, and her general demeanor. Quilla gave the impression of a girl who was an expert in every feminine art known to man, but could just as easily be a company president. In a room full of guys in suits, there was no doubt she'd be the one in charge.

The other girl, the taller one, came forward too, offering her hand as well. She was a little hesitant, clearly the shier of the two. "I'm Emma Call, but you can call me Em."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"What are you two up to?" said Quil, eyes flickering back and forth between Jules and I with delighted suspicion.

"We're just working on fixing up these two bikes," said Jules, eyes focused very intently on a twisted piece of blackened metal.

Quil eyed the old red bike Jules was at work on now, then glanced at the other one sitting toward the back. "Those are going to need a lot of parts," she noted. "Single-cylinder engine? Going to have to replace it for sure. And looks like the suspensions are shot."

"Part of either of the brakes salvageable?" Em wanted to know. "Probably have to replace them too, huh?"

I knew I shouldn't be surprised, considering what I knew Jules could do, but at least she sort of looked the part of a car fanatic. Quil and Em didn't.

"Don't tell me you two build cars, too," I said, shaking my head.

Quil laughed. "No, Jules here is the only freak of nature on this reservation. I like a nice car as much as anybody, but I don't build them. But when you're around her as much as we are, you learn a thing or two." She looked at me curiously. "So, why are you sitting over there? Isn't this a joint project?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, all I worry about when I get in a car is making sure it turns on when I turn the key and there's enough gas in the tank."

Quil snorted. "Hey, we know Jules is just a weirdo, but what's your excuse? You've got a Y chromosome, haven't you? You should be eating this stuff for breakfast."

I shrugged. "I guess my Y chromosome must have had a defect."

"Hey," Jules cut in, annoyed. "Lay off."

Quil and Em went back to grilling Jules on the her plans for the motorcycles, which proved Quil was being modest about her and Em's knowledge of vehicular construction, and there was a lot of good-natured grumbling and argument from Jules.

Finally I glanced at my watch, and saw it was time for me to head back if I was going to make it back in time to start dinner for Charlie. I sighed deeply and stood up from the cement blocks, stretching.

Jules glanced up, looking apologetic. "Sorry, I guess this part must seem pretty boring."

I shook my head. "No, that's not it, I just have to get back and get dinner started."

The corner of Jules's mouth turned up. "Steak?"

I found myself grinning back. "You know it."

She nodded. "Well, I'll keep working on this, and I'll get it all taken apart tonight. Then we'll need to figure out a plan for getting the parts it'll need. When do you want to meet again?"

"What about tomorrow?" I suggested. Sundays were typically the worst part of my week—never enough homework to keep me busy.

Quil, for some reason, looked quite amused by this, and she and Em again shared a grin.

"Yeah," said Jules. "Sounds good." Her hands were still at work on pulling apart a particularly complicated-looking section of the bike, but I noticed she was smiling.

As I walked away from the garage, I heard a burst of giggles, followed by Quil and Em's teasing voices, and Jules made some threat in return. I couldn't help but grin to myself—strange, for me to be smiling, when no one else was there to see—and I chuckled under my breath. The sound felt unfamiliar in my throat, coming out so naturally, not because I was trying to put on a show. I felt charged up, like I was walking on air, and I laughed again aloud, making it real.

Charlie wasn't back yet when I arrived home, and I was nearly finished with dinner when he clumped through the door.

"Hey, Dad," I said, and flashed him a grin.

He did a double-take before he managed to pull his expression together. "Hey, kiddo. Have a good time at the Black house?"

I moved the plate of steaks to the table, getting out the barbeque sauce. "Yeah, it was great."

"Do anything fun?" he asked casually.

I had to be careful here. "Just hung out around Jules's garage. You know she's rebuilding a Volkswagen. It looks great, it's almost done."

"I didn't know you were interested in cars," he said as he sat down at the table, spearing a T-bone onto his plate.

I shrugged. "Not really. She did all the work, I just watched. I've never seen anyone able to do anything like that."

Charlie nodded. He looked pleased, but wary, too. This sudden change of outlook probably seemed so uncanny, it was too soon to trust it would last.

After dinner, I hung out around the kitchen for a while, cleaning up everything twice and even resharpening the cutlery, then slowly doing my homework, and when that was done, going into the front room to watch the hockey game with Charlie. I didn't know who the teams were or any of the players, but I concentrated on learning them.

I was stalling. After coming out of my zombified state of mind, last night had been bad. But I'd gotten through it—I felt like the months of insulating myself, constantly feeling the pain hovering just on the edge of my consciousness, had toughened me up, made me strong enough to bear it. The afternoon of reprieve had been more than I could have asked for, but now that it was over, I was afraid it had only been softening me up for something worse than I'd had so far. Maybe someone else would have thought I was pathetic, if they could see what was going on in my head, but I knew, to survive, I had to deal the only way I could. I had to insulate my mind, protect it...or the pain would pull me under.

When the time finally came and Charlie mentioned the late hour, I didn't reply. Instead, I sat where I was as though I hadn't heard him, eyes still on the television. It wasn't until he got up, stretching, turned off the TV and headed upstairs, that I at last reluctantly followed.

As I trudged up the stairs, one slow, reluctant step at a time, I could almost feel the last of the afternoon's abnormal sense of wellbeing draining from my system, only to be replaced with a gnawing dread.

I laid down carefully on my side, letting my eyes slide closed. I braced myself against the coming onslaught.

And the next thing I knew, it was morning.

I headed downstairs in a daze, distracted as I began pulling the dishes out to get breakfast ready. I hadn't gone a night without nightmares in more than four months. It bordered on miraculous.

As I put the eggs and ham in pan and turned on the heat, I shook my head. Still, I shouldn't allow myself to start getting too comfortable. This just meant the reprieve was lasting longer than I expected, which meant it would be that much worse when I fell back. I was balancing on a slippery, precarious edge, and it wouldn't take much to send me crashing back down. If it wasn't the pain that came back, then the numbness.

However, I couldn't stop myself feeling just the tiniest spark of warmth, of anticipation, when I thought about the fact I was going to the Blacks' house again today. Jules would be there, cheerful and working on our secret project. There, maybe I wouldn't have to constantly remind myself to try to look interested, like I always did at school. However, I shook my head. No, I couldn't start thinking like that. Maybe I would have a good time there like I did yesterday, and it would let me escape for a few hours, but overall, I had to hang on to my pessimism. My pessimism was my best defense—because as I knew only too well, there was no greater pain than disappointed hopes.

At breakfast, Charlie was watching me closely, though he pretended not to.

"What are you up to today?" he asked casually, eying a loose thread on the edge of his cuff like he wasn't paying much attention.

"Going over to the Blacks again. I'll be in Jules' garage most of the time, probably."

Charlie nodded, eyes still on his sleeve. "I see," he said.

"You don't need me for anything, do you?" I asked.

Charlie blinked, looking startled. "No, no, you go ahead. The Clearwaters were going to come up and watch the game with me anyway."

I had a spark of inspiration, and I said quickly, "Maybe they could give Bonnie a ride up. She was talking about getting together with you again sometime." That would take care of my worry of Bonnie getting suspicious, and putting a premature end to my schemes.

"Great idea," he said, and he looked almost cheerful as he headed toward the phone while I slipped into my rain jacket. I made sure I had my wallet and checkbook, then headed out.

At the Black house, Jules was outside by my truck before I even had a chance to shut off the engine.

"Your dad called and said you were on your way," she said, grinning. Her teeth gleamed white against her russet skin, and they were quickly becoming familiar.

Completely on its own, without a conscious command, I felt my mouth spread in an answering smile. Icy rain was pouring down against the top of my head and down my face, but I didn't care.

"Hey, Jules."

"Good move," she said in a low, conspiratorial voice. "Planting the idea to get rid of my mom. Nice one."

"Anything for the plan," I said, also keeping my voice low, and doing my best imitation of a villainous chuckle.

Jules laughed.

Holly and Saul showed up to grab Bonnie not too long later, but while we waited, Jules gave me a tour of their tiny house, and we stopped by her room. It wasn't at all what I'd have expected a girl's room to be, no posters of boy bands or cute kittens. It was all racing cars, and there was even a diagram of an engine.

As soon as Bonnie was gone, we stuck our heads together, and Jules produced a small folded slip of paper from her back pocket. The list of parts.

"We'll head out to the dump, first," she said. "We might get lucky. This could get expensive real fast, those bikes will need a lot of replacement parts before they'll be going anywhere."

I shrugged nonchalantly, pulling out my checkbook, and clicking the pen I'd brought along without much concern. "You just tell me where to sign and when," I said in an exaggeratedly deep, snobby rich voice. "Money's no object."

It turned out to be a strange kind of day. Good strange. We slogged through ankle-deep mud at the dump, pelted constantly with rain, but somehow it was fun with Jules there, cracking jokes. Strange.

When Jules turned away briefly to rummage through a pile of rusty scraps, I watched her surreptitiously out of the corner of my eye, studying her profile. And I wondered just what it was about her, that I liked to be around her. That she could briefly chase away the heavy, oppressive storm cloud of emotion that hung over my head, for a few hours at least, when it came down to it, I barely knew her.

I didn't think it was the fact that she always seemed happy to see me, and she didn't always seemed to be carefully watching me out of the corner of her eyes, as though I might suddenly sink down into another fit of depression. It wasn't even the anticipation of getting the bikes done.

Maybe it was just Jules herself. She was a perpetually happy, upbeat person, energizing whoever came near her with her jokes and natural good cheer. She was like some kind of earthbound sun, and whenever someone drifted within the space of her gravitational pull, they absorbed some of that warmth she gave off wherever she went. The light was so bright, even my dense and heavy clouds couldn't block it all out entirely.

I smiled a bit wryly to myself. Maybe it was a bit of a cheesy metaphor—clouds and sun—but it was apt, all the same.

"Hey," Jules said as we got back into my truck. "Did the stereo break?" She was staring at the gaping hole in my dashboard.

Commenting on the taboo, that probably should have sent me spiraling down to my usual dark place, but I only shrugged.

"Yeah," I said. It wasn't exactly a lie. Only I'd been the one to break it.

She leaned forward, peering inside. "Who took this out? All the connections have been torn off. I don't think you could install another one if you wanted to."

"I took it out," I admitted.

She turned to stare at me, then laughed. "Wow. I knew you didn't know about cars, but...you know, I think you might be a menace. Don't touch the bikes, okay?"

I put two fingers to my temple in a salute.

Jules had found several parts she could use at the dump, a few she was very excited about, and next we drove up to the Checker Auto Parts store in Hoquiam. In my truck, it was over a two-hour drive, but the time seemed to slip away easily. Jules never ran out of funny stories and jokes that had me sitting with rapt attention, or else laughing out loud.

"But anyway," she said at last, after she'd reached the end of a long story involving Quil setting up an elaborate plot to prove to a senior guy she had her eye on that his steady girlfriend was cheating on him. "That's enough about me and my life. What about Forks? You've probably got way more drama up there than La Push."

I shook my head. "Not really. I mean, I guess there's a little drama, but sounds like your friends are way more interesting than mine. I don't think it could ever get boring with someone like Quil around. She cracks me up."

Jules smiled back, but her eyes flickered briefly away. "I think Quil finds you pretty interesting, too. Course, she finds a lot of guys interesting. She's got a ranking system all worked out for every guy she's ever met. I think you're pretty high."

I laughed. "Somehow, I really don't think that would work."

"Why not?" she asked, and her tone was almost overly casual. "She pretends to be a prima donna sometimes, but underneath it all she's a good person."

I had the hazy notion that Jules was driving at something, and it didn't have anything to do with Quil.

"Well," I said, "for all that makeup, I get the feeling she could totally beat me up."

"What difference does that make?" said Jules. Her voice was still light and joking, but she was staring hard out the front windshield, and there was some tension in her body language. "Why does that matter? Isn't this the twenty-first century?"

I grinned, determined to keep it light. "Women think this is the twenty-first century. But for us, we're still in the dark ages." I put a hand to my heart and said in a theatrical voice, "One must protect ladies from all perils, and make it so she must never be forced to set foot out of doors, lest her fair skin be blemished by the cruel sun and nails chipped in frightful manual labor."

Jules snorted, and the awkward moment seemed to pass. "I think you missed your calling, Beau. You should have been an actor in a Shakespearean play, that was so moving."

We bantered like that until we reached Hoquiam, arguing over what 'ladies' and 'true men' should and shouldn't do. I maintained a lady should never be forced to lift anything over ten pounds, and ought to devote at least an hour a day to picking flowers, though of course not on days where the temperature was over eighty five, and never without a parasol for shade. Jules informed me that a true man must be able to kill a pig with a spear at twenty paces, build everything he owned himself without ever once looking at the instructions, and above all, never ask for directions. At which point we began adding and deducting points from each other based on what we could and couldn't do. Jules lost points as a lady for being able to fix cars, but gained some back for having long hair, and I lost a ton as a true man for not being able to bench press two hundred pounds, but got some back for instigating rebellion against the parents.

When we got into town, we had to break off our conversation as Jules needed to concentrate on finding parts. She was able to get everything she had put down on the list, and she seemed confident this would put both the bikes a long way to getting finished.

By the time we got back, we'd both pretty much decided that Jules would have to get a lacy white dress with a fan, and a wide-brimmed hat with a rose to shade her from the sun, and I would have to kill a bear with my bare hands and wear the pelt.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in Jules's garage, me sitting on the cinderblocks, watching her hands flash from one tool to the next. On her feet, Jules was often a little like me, awkward and uncoordinated. But when it came to working with her hands, they seemed to move like a dance. The time seemed to slip by far too quickly, and before long it was already dark outside, and we heard Bonnie calling for us.

I stood up from the blocks, stretching. I started to head for the tools, to help her put things away, or at least shove it all into her usual chaotic pile, but she waved a hand to stop me.

"Leave it, I'll be coming back to work on it again tonight."

My conscience needled me, and I worried she might get in trouble if she spent too much time on my project.

"You don't have to do that," I said. "There's no hurry. If you have homework or something..."

She made a dismissive gesture. "This is what I live for. I'm in the zone right now, I can't sleep when I get like this."

That didn't exactly answer the homework question, but I decided that could wait until later. Maybe we could even take a break from the bikes tomorrow to do our homework together. I smiled at the thought.

"Beau?"

Both Jules and I started as we heard Charlie's familiar voice wafting through the trees, sounding a little too close for comfort.

"Coming!" I called back quickly.

Jules grinned, evidently enjoying all the sneaking around. "Let's go," she said and, switching off the garage light, grabbed me by the wrist and towed me in the direction of the house.

It was dark out, and we could barely see the path in front of us. I nearly went sprawling over a tree root, but Jules reached out and grabbed my hand to stabilize me.

"Thanks," I said, laughing aloud, and she was laughing, too.

She continued on leading the way to the house, her feet finding the familiar path easily. She didn't let go of my hand. It was a little rough, but warm.

We were still laughing as we came into view of the house. I saw Charlie standing under the little back porch, and Bonnie sitting in the doorway behind. When Charlie caught sight of us, his eyes widened slightly.

"Bonnie...Bonnie invited us for dinner," Charlie said slowly, distractedly.

"Secret Quileute recipe for spaghetti," Bonnie said gravely. "Handed down for generations."

Jules rolled her eyes while Charlie and I chuckled.

The house was crowded. The Clearwaters, Holly and Saul, were there, too, along with their two children. Leland, or Lee, as most of them seemed to call him, was a senior like I was, but about a year older. He was almost ridiculously good-looking, tall, with flawless copper skin and wavy movie star black hair, though he remained apart from the company the entire time, eyes glued to the screen of his phone as he texted. Sarah was fourteen, and she seemed to look up to Jules with wide-eyed adulation.

The kitchen was too small to fit everyone, so Charlie and Holly took some chairs out to the yard, and we ate our spaghetti in the dim light from the open door. Everyone discussed the game, and Holly Clearwater talked a mile a minute as she tried to organize some more fishing plans, even though her social calendar, from the sound of it, was already crammed full. Her husband, Saul, who was a laid-back, easygoing sort of guy, tried to convince her of the virtues of slowing down to breathe once in a while, but she paid him no mind. Jules, Sarah and I formed a small group, and Jules told another story about school, which Sarah listened to with rapt interest. I could tell Charlie was watching me out of the corner of his eye, cautious, but pleased.

I felt like I could have stayed there forever, but of course, this was Washington, and eventually the inevitable rain broke up the party. Charlie had come up with the Clearwaters, so he rode back in my truck with me, asking me questions about my day. I answered honestly, though of course leaving a few key gaps.

"You think you'll visit again anytime soon?" he asked casually.

"I'm going there again tomorrow after school," I said, eyes on the road. "I said I'd bring some homework, we're both going to get behind."

"Good idea," he said, injecting a note of parental authority into his tone, though he couldn't quite fully disguise his satisfaction.

As we entered the house, I felt my good cheer slowly fade. Like last night, the last thing I wanted was to go upstairs. I'd been basking in the warmth and light of Jules's aura all day, embraced the sunlight, but now the sun had officially set, and the warmth had been replaced with dark and cold. I doubted the nightmares would give me a break for two nights in a row.

I woke too early in the morning and dashed to the bathroom in the darkness, where the familiar feeling of acidic bile tearing its way up my throat left me pale and shaking before the mirror. I looked up to see my face was white, with dark circles beneath my eyes.

This face was familiar, one I had seen so many times over the past months that the memories blurred together, a dark routine I could never break free from. However, within my usual nightmare, there had been something different this time.

In the woods, this time I hadn't been alone. Samantha Uley, the woman who had helped me that night months ago which I had systematically worked to block from my mind, had been there, watching my frantic search without emotion. She never made any move to help, only watched, silent, and whenever I looked away from her, her form seemed to shiver, then shift and change just at the periphery of my vision. I didn't know what it meant, except maybe my mental competence was deteriorating faster than I'd thought.

Charlie stared at me all during breakfast, studying my face. Perhaps looking for some sign I was slipping back into zombie-mode. I couldn't blame him. I half expected the zombie to come back too.

When I arrived at school and took a seat at my desk for first class, now that I was paying attention, I was struck with a sense of oddness. Unlike Charlie, absolutely no one paid any mind to me. No one spoke to me, or even greeted me. The eyes of teachers slipped past my desk as if I wasn't there. Apparently, while I'd been out of it, I'd turned into a non-entity. I did my best to listen in on conversations to get caught up on what was going on, but it was hopeless.

I took a seat beside Jeremy in Calculus.

"Hey, Jer," I said, with practiced nonchalance. "How was the weekend? Do anything else?"

Jeremy turned and looked at me as if I were a piece of slime on his shoe. Apparently, he still wasn't over the Port Angeles thing. "Just great," he said, then turned, feigning a particular absorption in the calculus book open in front of him, turning away a little further than was necessary so his back was partly turned to me.

My last class before lunch got out late, so the lunch table I normally sat at was almost entirely full by the time I arrived. Jeremy and Allen were there of course, along with Taylor, Erica, Colleen, and Logan. However, I noticed a few others, too. A tall redhead who lived just around the corner from my house, Kyle Marshall, and Aubrey Marks, from the family I'd bought the motorcycles. I wondered if this was their first day sitting here, or if they were regulars here and I'd just failed to notice until now. I was beginning to suspect it was more likely the latter. I really had been dead to the world the last few months.

I tried to catch up with the conversation.

McKayla and Colleen were talking about hair care products, so I quickly gave up on that one.

"Where's Becca?" Logan was asking Allen. "I've never seen her miss a day."

Logan looked different than I remembered. He'd grown out his bleach blond hair so he looked like a playboy. I wondered if he'd found out Taylor had a thing for long hair, or if they were even still together. It occurred to me that, for all I knew, he'd stopped hating my guts and transformed into a nice guy.

"Sick," said Allen, sighing. "Really sick. She's hoping it's just a twenty-four hour thing, we have a test in History on Wednesday and she really doesn't want to miss it."

"But you got a hot date in before that, right?" said Jeremy, grinning and winking. "For the weekend. Do tell."

Allen went a little pink around the ears, but otherwise didn't react to Jeremy and the no doubt dirty places his mind was taking him.

"Well, we were going to go hiking for a bit. Up north, almost to the hot springs. Becca packed us a lunch and everything. But...we ended up turning around and coming back."

"Hot springs," said Jeremy with a grin, one-tracked mind going full force.

"Why's that?" said Logan, who, like me, picked up on the slight edge in Allen's voice.

Allen looked reluctant to say anything. "Just as we were getting close to the trail head, we saw something," he said slowly. "Something big. We thought it might be dangerous."

"Saw something?" Logan repeated. "Like an animal?"

"Becca and I thought it was a bear," Allen said, frowning at the memory. "It was all black. But it was...huge. Really too big for a bear, but I don't know what else it could have been."

Logan snorted. "Seriously, you too? My brother tried to sell me that one, too. I can't figure out where this mass fantasy is coming from."

"Yeah, you're not going to see bears that close to the resort," Jeremy inserted, siding with Logan.

Allen's eyes were on the table, and he shrugged, but I could see his ears turning even more pink.

Logan shook his head, still chuckling derisively. McKayla was still deeply engrossed in her conversation with Colleen, and hadn't heard.

I jumped in. "No, it's a real thing. We had a hiker at Newtons on Saturday who was talking about it. Huge black bear, he said it was as tall as a man even down on all fours. Right?" I turned in McKayla's direction.

The table was suddenly, abruptly silent. They were all suddenly staring at me, and the shock on their faces couldn't have been more extreme if someone had suddenly stood up and dropped a bomb in the middle of the floor.

"McKayla?" I muttered, feeling like I'd been unexpectedly and unwelcomely thrust on stage of a play. "You remember. At the store, that guy who was talking about that massive black bear?"

"Um, yeah," she said, staring at me with the oddest expression I'd ever seen. I didn't see what the big deal was. I'd always talked to her at work, hadn't I? ...Or at least, I thought I had.

McKayla got her bearings and went on, "Yeah, there was a guy who said he saw a black bear bigger than a grizzly. He said he was planning to report it."

Logan wrinkled his nose, looking annoyed, and turned away to get Taylor's attention. Everyone went back to what they were doing, except for McKayla and Allen, who both smiled at me tentatively, and I smiled back.

McKayla asked me questions most of the rest of lunch, and Allen stuck with us too. When I went to go dump my tray, Allen came with me.

"Thanks," he said in his usual low, soft voice.

"No problem," I said. "But for what?"

"About the bear," he said.

I shrugged.

"You okay?" Allen asked, looking at me straight, eyes concerned, but not weirded out like Jeremy. This was why I preferred Jeremy to go to the movie with before. I liked Allen more, but he was also more observant.

I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. But I'm feeling a bit better."

He nodded. "It's...good to have you back, man."

Just then, Logan shouldered his way past me, Jeremy next to him. "Great," he sneered. "Just what we need. Beaufort back in action."

Allen shook his head, smiling a little in my direction as though to say Don't pay any attention to him.

"Hey," I said suddenly. "What's today?"

Allen's brow furrowed slightly. "January nineteenth. Why?"

I nodded. "Now that I think about it, it was a year ago yesterday I had my first day here."

The corner of Allen's mouth turned up in a hesitant smile as he glanced after Logan. "Not a lot's changed, huh?"

I smiled back. "Nope. Not in the slightest."