The Twilight Saga: The Official Illustrated Guide (82 page)

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to people thinking I’m crazy.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to people thinking I’m crazy.” It slipped out before I could think, and Charlie’s eyes flashed up to mine.

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Yeah, I know. I was kidding.”

He nodded, but there was no agreement in the motion.

“Anyway, what were you supposed to think? Billy supports this.” I shook my head. “It’s too weird. It’s like Quil said yesterday… something stinks.”

“Quil Ateara?” he asked quickly.

I nodded. “He’s not in the cult. He’s scared, like Jacob was.”

“Cult?” Charlie repeated in a sharp tone.

“That’s what Quil called it, and Jacob, too, before they beamed him up,” I said morosely. “Jacob also said something about tribe pride and tribe lands…. ”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “I wonder if that’s why Billy and the others seem to approve? I talked to Billy yesterday—”

I nodded knowingly, and he broke off for a second, looking uncomfortable. He was probably trying to remember what all he’d said about me.

“Anyway,” he started again, “he was acting pretty strange himself. Billy’s always been a straightforward person. Yesterday… well, it seemed like he was hiding something.” His voice was full of disbelief, as if this were the most ridiculous of theories.

“Dad, I think that’s
exactly
what he’s doing.”

Charlie looked at me unhappily. “What are we going to do?”

“I think I’m going to La Push—Mrs. Newton traded shifts with me for today.”

He frowned. “I don’t know if I want you down there, Bella. This is a little bit disturbing.”

“It’s a lot disturbing,” I told him. “But I don’t think it’s dangerous disturbing—at least not for me. Maybe for Quil, though. By the way, I offered Quil our couch if he wants to get away. Is that all right?”

He blinked twice. “Um, sure.” He paused. “Are you good friends with Quil Ateara?”

“I think I’ve talked to him twice,” I admitted.

Life was spinning out of Charlie’s comfort zone.

“Okay.” Charlie pursed his lips. Life was spinning out of Charlie’s comfort zone. I knew the feeling well.

I got up from the table.

“Bella?”

“Yeah?”

“If anything looks… weird, don’t stay. I’ll be at the station. And call me, either way.”

“Sure, Dad.”

I felt sort of guilty as I retraced the familiar road to La Push. I was going to do something that I knew was wrong, and that maybe was a slight overreaction, too.

I was going to do my best to convince Quil Ateara to run away from home.

Jacob had thought Sam was after him, and he’d been right. Now Quil felt the same way. I was going to trust Quil’s gut instinct and assume that he was next in line for the brainwashing. But if they wanted him, they were going to have to get through the Chief and me. Maybe Quil would be the key to finding out what was really happening to Jacob, and getting him out.

My mood was more hopeful, now that I had a goal.

La Push was empty. It was almost sultry out today, warm and close under the thick clouds. No rain to drive anyone
indoors. The vacant yards and sidewalks seemed suspicious, but I was probably being paranoid. La Push was never a bustling hot spot.

I was glad that Quil’s family lived on the opposite side of the village from the Blacks. I didn’t want anyone to guess what I was up to and target Quil earlier than expected. I wished my truck were much quieter. It was the loudest thing in town—so much for stealth.

There was no sign of life outside the Ateara home. I couldn’t tell if the lights were on inside the store in front of it.

I shut the truck off and hurried up the short dirt path to the front door. I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder every other second, though it made me feel ridiculous. I rapped my knuckles hard and fast against the faded blue door, then listened, waiting for a response. Nothing. I beat my fist against the wood twice again, this time generating a muffled thud that seemed to shiver in the walls.

As I waited—discouragement beginning to conquer hope—I was reminded of those movies on the sci-fi channel that I always flipped through quickly, the movies where someone finds herself all alone, the only person left on the planet. I shivered.

I raised my fist for one last, futile attempt, and the door swung open under my hand. I nearly punched the shriveled white-haired man in the face.

“Oh,” I gasped, quickly dropping my hand.

“Hey, you’re Chief Swan’s girl,” the little man accused.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You hang out with Billy’s kid.”

“Sometimes.” I wondered if he treated all visitors this way. Maybe just the ones who almost assaulted him.

“What do you want? He’s not here.” He shut the door halfway.

“Um, Mr. Ateara?” I guessed, easing my foot surreptitiously around the doorjamb so he couldn’t shut me out until I wanted him to.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He seemed displeased that I knew his name.

“Is your grandson Quil here?”

“No.”

A few seconds passed.

“Could you tell me where I can find him?” I prompted.

“Can’t tell you what I don’t know. He’s out.”

Did they guess what I was up to? Was Sam taking preemptive action against me?

“Do you know if he’s with Jacob?” I asked anxiously. There hadn’t been enough time for that, had there? Did they guess what I was up to? Was Sam taking preemptive action against me?

“Don’t think so,” the old man said reluctantly. “He goes off on his own now.”

Relief rushed through me. “Okay, I guess I’ll just come back later.”

The only answer I got was a sour look as he slammed the door. I yanked my foot out of the way, barely avoiding some broken toes.

Well, that was welcoming.

I decided I would drive around and hope to find Quil walking along the road, as I had yesterday. I’d much rather talk to him without his grandfather present.

This outtake shows another approach to the scene at the end of
New Moon
’s chapter 2.

I collapsed back onto my pillow, gasping, my head spinning. My arm didn’t hurt anymore, but I didn’t know whether that was due to the painkillers or the kiss. Something tugged at my memory, elusive, on the edges….

“Sorry,” he said, and he was breathless, too. “That was out of line.”

To my own surprise, I giggled. “You’re funny,” I mumbled and giggled again.

He frowned at me in the darkness. He looked so serious. It was hysterical.

I covered my mouth to muffle the laughter so Charlie wouldn’t hear.

“Bella, have you ever had Percocet before?”

“I don’t think so.” I giggled. “Why?”

He rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t stop laughing.

“How’s your arm?”

“I can’t feel it. Is it still there?”

He sighed as I giggled on. “Try to sleep, Bella.”

“No, I want you to kiss me again.”

“You’re overestimating my self-control.”

“You’re overestimating my self-control.”

I snickered. “Which is bothering you more, my blood or my body?” My question made me laugh.

“It’s a tie.” He grinned in spite of himself. “I’ve never seen you high. You’re very entertaining.”

“I’m not high.” I tried to choke back the giggles to prove it.

“Sleep it off,” he suggested.

I realized that I was making a fool of myself, which wasn’t uncommon, but it was still embarrassing, so I tried to follow his advice. I put my head on his shoulder again and closed my eyes. Every now and then another giggle would escape. But that became more infrequent as the drugs lulled me toward unconsciousness.

*    *    *

I felt absolutely hideous in the morning. My arm burned and my head ached. Edward said I had a hangover, and recommended Tylenol rather than the Percocet before he kissed my forehead casually and ducked out my window.

It didn’t help my outlook that his face was smooth and remote. I was so afraid of the conclusions he might have come to during the night while he watched me sleep. The anxiety seemed to ratchet up the intensity of the pounding in my head.

I took a double dose of Tylenol and threw the little bottle of Percocet into the bathroom trash.