Dying Doesn't Seem So Cruel

The month passed by slowly; I'd gotten a job to help go through my days - and to avoid being alone in the house as much as huanly possible, no pun intended. The bookstore was usually barren, which left me time to think.

I wish Emmett was home already.

"Life suck?"

"Oh, God, Christie, don't scare me. Hi, Kyle."

"Hey."

I looked at my friend. "Yes, life does suck right about now."

"When's Emmett supposed to be home?"

"I don't know. He didn't give a specific date, although I hope it'll be soon."

"Emmett who?" Kyle questioned. "Cullen?"

"Yeah. Why?"

He shrugged. "No reason. Except my friend, Jacob, has told me some legends."

"Jacob?"

"You wouldn't know him. He lives down on the reservation."

Jacob Black . I live on the rez . . . to remind Popsicle of the treaty . . . Black---

"Black?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"I've met him before."

"Oh, you go to La Push?"

"No. Anyway, what has he told you?"

"That - well, I'm not really allowed to say."

"Come on, Kyle," Christie protested. "You've got us interested, so just tell us."

"Better idea. We'll go to the rez and have Jacob tell us himself."

"Fine. When?"

Kyle's brown eyes bored into mine, the black pupils almost lost in the darkness of his irises. "Tonight. It's supposed to be cleared up."

"Alright."

"Meet at my house," Christie said as they exited the shop.

"Great. Listening to old native legends. What a way to spend my night."