Half Bitten

“Get off that ledge” a frantic voice yelled from down below. I darted my head around and temporarily lost balance. I griped to whatever I could hold onto, “I’m fine!” I screamed back to the gasp coming from the now abandoned yard underneath. “Jackie Auburn Brown! Get down from there this instant!” my dad decided to exercise his power of restraint.
“I will!” I steadily lifted myself off the ledge and angled my body back towards the attic. I tripped over lose boxes down the stairs and back onto the second floor. I could hear my dad trudging up the stairs, “what do you think you're doing!” he waved his barbeque tong up in the air.
“Dad, im fine. Stop it.”
“Stop it?” he repeated, “Why would you go out and sit on a ledge willingly.” I rolled my eyes,
“ I just wanted to look at the moon. Please calm down.”
“The last time you did that you fell off and couldn’t walk for three weeks.”

That was the summer of my 14th birthday, and just so happened to be the first month of my parent’s divorce. Going from house to house, I didn’t know what was going on anymore. I would come to my dad’s and always climb into the attic and sit on the ledge. My dad remained oblivious until one rainy Wednesday night. Lightening struck one of the trees across our yard. I had heard the noise and climbed out onto the ledge to find out what it was, and as clumsy as I was, fell over. My dad came out and saw me; he did nothing but scream and shout for help until I woke up to beeping monitors and nurses taking my pulse. Ever since then, he’s been over protective. I had hoped over the years he would grow out of it, but to my surprise nothing had changed.
“Dad, I’m going to sleep.”
He stopped me from moving. “Don’t you know I care?” I rolled my eyes, “please. I don’t know what would happen if I lost you.” his voice was calm and quiet; Innocent and sincere. Throughout my whole childhood I’ve never heard that voice. It seemed as if he really actually cared.
Glancing back at his eyes I nodded, “ I wont do it again.” Hesitating, “I promise.”
After a moment of silence fell, he sighed and started to step back. This was clearly too much for us to handle. “Well, go to bed Jackie.” He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead and bolted back down the stairs without a word. My eyes followed his footsteps, lulling over what had just happened. One might argue that he was just worried about me, but even when I twisted my ankle, I never recalled accumulating that much love from him. I slowly went into my room only to crash on the bed seconds later. Restlessly, I tossed and turned.
Sooner, rather than later, the blanket that was covering me happened to be halfway across the room, my pillows were thrown off my bed, and a light shadow of silver peered through the shades of my window. I sighed, my first day in Port Angeles.
The alarm clock on my night table started to ring calmly, I inched myself off the bed and hit the snooze button. My door opened silently moments later,
“Oh.” My dad groaned, embarrassed that he had been caught, “I thought you would still be sleeping.”
I shook my head and awkwardly lifted myself back onto the bed, “well,” He fondled with the doorknob, “I’ll see you down stairs for breakfast.” There was some tense emotion in the air, “I’m sorry.” I blurted without thinking
“For what?” he stuttered.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have gone out on that ledge. It’s not a place for someone as clumsy as me.”
He sighed lightly, “ I overreacted. I mean, I know this place isn’t as safe as it seems but…” allowing his voice to trail off he looked down to his feet, “so, I’ll see downstairs?”
I smiled lightly as he exited the room. One thing was for sure, he didn’t hover anymore. I had decided to make the first day in Port Angeles amazing—well, maybe just exceptional. Quickly, grabbing a change of clothes, I ran into the bathroom and let the warm water wash over me. A new, clean start would make the day memorable. It wouldn’t have helped if I still had the Texas scent on me. Couple of minutes later, I was in front of the mirror struggling with my shoulder length hair. It had the habit of breaking combs. My skin was still its light bronze color; I didn’t recall seeing the sun out and wondered if that was going to change soon. I worked my way down the stairs into the kitchen. My dad was standing over the oven trying to see if he had turned it on successfully. Without another second, I raced to the cupboard and brought out a couple of pans. Racing to the fridge, I quickly grabbed the butter, eggs, bacon, and the toast. It was full of nothing; but the essentials, and a six-pack of beer.
“We’re going to need to go food shopping for something more amusing to consume, dad. After all, I still am a kid.” I turned to him, he knew better then to protest, having possessed himself to sit at the table across the kitchen skimming through the daily newspaper, “You could take the truck, after I drive to the bookstore,” he answered, dully.
The eggs sizzled as they hit the pan, there was too much quiet, it irritated me. We haven’t seen each other in almost two years; his curiosity must have the urge to bubble questions to the surface of his mind. Occasionally there would be a light, “hmm,” sneaking out of his hearty chest as he moderately turned the page.
“That’s interesting,” a hushed tone followed, “very.” I unwrapped four pieces of bacon, “really? What’s going on?” splat, they hit the pan.

”Seems like there was an animal attack last night.” paper rustled, “right about the time we had the barbeque. On Hopi land.” I nodded flipping the bacon around in the pan, “anyone hurt?”
“Not anyone. They killed a bear.” I chuckled lightly, “so maybe it was a hunter.” He raised his gaze to meet my face, “you’re not allowed to hunt around here, ever.” After the hint of stern seriousness left his face he looked back down to the paper, “I’m sure Bird will take care of it.” He was the only one with enough wisdom to handle anything with the slightest of ease.
I flopped the eggs onto an empty plate and the bacon joined soon after. I grabbed a fork and walked it over to my dad with a smile. He seemed to stand nervously taking the plate away before I had the urge to set it down.
“You look like your mother when you do that…” he looked down, setting the fork a couple of centimeters over to the left of the plate. “How is she, by the way?” I nodded vaguely, studying my words. I didn’t want to say anything that would give him more pain than he was already going through.
“ I don’t know. A couple of weeks before I had to leave, she hired a nanny for me.” He chuckled, bitterly reminiscing on the memories, “so, I take it she hasn’t changed since…” I shook my head; we were not going to talk about this, first day in Port Angeles is supposed to be happy. “Are you ready yet?” I perked up with a smile. He dropped the conversation humbly; “I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.”
I took it upon myself to storm out of the kitchen to give him privacy. I rampaged through the living room and sat in the vacant seat overlooking the entrance to the kitchen. Daring myself to lean over slightly, I could see his body slouched in a hunch and his arm solemnly raising food up to his mouth. I fought the urge to cross boundaries. He needed to be alone, sort things through. Even though he is my dad, he is still a human—much more likely, a male. They need time so solve things their own way.
The internal war was lost willingly. What was the point of giving someone privacy, if the person wanting it was on his way to a downward spiral of depression? I leaned in once more, hoping not to be caught in his gaze. He didn’t seem as if he was suffering or feeling anything what so ever. But I knew something was there. He took in another bite and blinked heavily. Like he didn’t want to open his eyes. I shifted back into my seat and came to the conclusion that he missed my mom. As much as I'm sure she missed him; if she hadn’t met her new boyfriend and paraded around the country flaunting his credit cards. There had to be something we could add in the picture to make him happy. I lulled over the possibilities. Working six days a week with fourteen-hour shifts at a bookstore owned by a lifetime friend, Bird, doesn’t leave a guy open for options. I couldn’t upset him or agitate him in anyway; who knows how long I could hold off that urge.
“Come on, kid. Are we leaving or what?” my dad’s voice pulled me out of a trance. I lifted my head and found him handing me a jacket. I took it from him as he slipped the other one on, “it’ll be colder when we get back.” I looked down to the jacket he had given me. It was a faded red orange color and accented with three buttons still clinging on for dear life. I swallowed my pride, “thanks dad.”
He smirked politely and started walking to the door, “I’ll need that back. That jacket belongs to Bird’s older son.” After a scoff, I followed him out the front door; down the muddy walk way, past dead flowers, and around the corner.
“There she is!” he exclaimed happily. Throwing his hands up in the air as I realized he was greeting an old faded blue Honda pick up truck placed in it’s own parking spot near the side of the house. He jumped into it and quickly turned on the engine. A loud rumble emerged from the front of the pick up. It was the type of engine that roared even at a halted stop. The one that no one could bear to resist listening to as it drove through the street. I reluctantly went into the Honda and searched for my seat belt. My dad stared at me sideways, “I’ve been meaning to fix that,” he reminded himself out loud. I rolled my eyes and comfortably adjusted myself in the seat.
He eased the truck out of its parking spot and into the main road. We sat there in silence for many moments. Me, lost in my own little world, and my dad—lost in the action of wanting to start a conversation but wouldn’t. Occasionally, the mountains would disappear and nothing but winter trees and shrub would surround us. The trees stood tall and very strong, as if they felt they were there for a reason. The thought couldn’t help but cross my mind of how beautiful they would look during the first snowfall. It wasn’t long until the road we were on led into town.
The town was filled with people walking briskly, stopping to greet others with smiles and happy hugs. Kids ran around amused by their imaginations as their parents followed smiling proudly. We turned the corner and eased into a parking spot right in front of a bookstore called, “Blue Kachina.”
“This is where you work?” I asked, coming to the realization that my dad actually worked at a bookstore. “Things have changed,” he answered back, easing his way out of the car.
“What time will you be back, Jackie?” he asked, still not quite closing the door. I shrugged, “depends on how long the supermarket is from here.”
“No junk food.” He raised his finger sternly; I opened my mouth to protest, “Come on? Not even a little bit?” he chuckled lightly and closed the door, speaking through the half open window, “okay fine. It can’t be all junk food.” I smiled lightly, “ I’ll look for something healthy and I’ll be back before eleven.” He walked to the bookstore swiftly and opened the door to enter. I waited for him to be inside before I jumped into the front seat of the cab and restlessly moved out of the parking spot.

“Not that,” I sighed helplessly as I threw the box of cake mix back onto the shelf. I fought myself on the fact that I had promised to look for something healthy. I couldn’t just rush to the junk food isle with pure anticipation. So I walked slowly through each isle of the supermarket thinking that something healthy was bound to catch my eye. Duly noting to never shop without a grocery list again, I thought of the essentials. Chips, cookies, and chocolate—you could never go wrong with the three C’s. I turned the corner into the next isle. Blankly staring at bread and “Whole Grain Guarantee!” signs. That way, you can say you tried, I reminded myself smugly. Picking up two packs of toast, I took a quick glance at the time, 9:15. My mind rapidly went into motion. Maybe my dad really did need time on his own. It wouldn’t have helped if I showed up too early. I lifted my head up and felt a sharp pain. “Ow!” my brain hissed sharply. How was I supposed to help my dad if I lost brain cells in the process?
Noticing freshly marked candy bags scattered by my feet, I realized I had bumped into a candy stand. I picked them up one by one stuffing them into the cart I dragged along.
“Did you see that??” laughed a voice a couple feet in front of me. I tapped my fingers on the handle of the cart, lifting my head up slowly. The voice was still laughing this time accompanied by a pale face with soft brown eyes and dirty blonde hair.
“Lets just go,” a calm silky voice, answered him. There was another boy, standing next to the blonde one. He was tall, with coal black hair and pale skin. With a swift gesture, he glided away towards the end of the isle. I stared closely. There was something so familiar about him.
“But seriously. We should check, maybe she needs help.” The blonde winked cunningly. The boy with the black hair glanced back meeting my gaze with his fervent golden brown eyes, Nervously; I bowed my head down, staring at my feet. “There’s no blood.” He weighed every word coolly “She’ll be fine.”
Fervent golden brown eyes; my mind repeated. Images of the boy running through the trees flashed from side to side in my mind. I darted my head up in a panic.
“HI!” an overly familiar voice chimed from behind. “It’s a surprise to see you here, Jackie.” Kindle took me in a bear hug before I gathered the energy to speak.
“Ew! They’re hugging.” Quinn and Coco tried to conceal their laughs. “Quinn! Coco! If you embarrass me in front of Jackie!” they didn’t bother to hear the end of her threat, darting through the isle laughing.
“I see you’ve got your hands full.” I looked down at Kindle’s cart noticing various boxes of granola bars and energy drinks. She rolled her eyes, “Shopping for the town’s soccer team has its advantages.” waving her hand in the air lazily, she started to inch her cart down the isle. I nodded along, following with my almost empty cart.
“Like for example. You get to be around the hottest guys in town.” I didn’t protest. There was nothing wrong with being around hot sexy guys. Golden brown eyes I reminded myself once again wishfully looking towards the end of the isle.
Kindle went on with a hint of pride, “you should really come by. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
I hummed lightly, “Did you just happen to see two boys head that-a-way?”
She ignored my question, “you really should come tomorrow. It’s their first practice for the season and it would help if I had a dose of estrogen balance out the testosterone.” Quinn and Coco nosily ran by dropping boxes of sugared cereal onto Kindle’s cart. She looked at them sternly as they continued to run away. I could tell she really did have her hands full.
“Okay, I won’t mind helping you.”
She perked up with a smile, “really? That’s great! The practice is at twelve thirty.” She let her smile glimmer, “I’ll pick you up in my new truck. We’re going to the café with the team after.”
I tried to conceal my anxiety, “it would be an awesome experience.”
She looked down at her watch attentively, “we should be going,” knee- jerk reaction, I looked at my watch as well.

A cold breeze rushed in through the car window as I raced down the road; my thoughts racing, maybe I would meet the boy somewhere else. At the practice tomorrow? Somewhere in school? Car horns bleeped angrily as I drove past a red light. I should really slow down, letting my eyes glare at the speedometer. How did he move through the trees so fast? If He, was even the same guy. That wasn’t something a normal person could do, flipping through the air, with the slightest of ease. I swerved into a parking spot a couple of yards away from Blue Kachina. I turned the engine off and sat there in silence. Even if I did know of his name, what would happen next? I’d only dream of uttering the word in my sleep. I looked at my watch, 11:05.
Bookstore. Go into the bookstore I urged myself
Stepping inside, I couldn’t help but notice that the place looked very cozy. The lights; bright enough so that you could read, but dim enough so that you could easily be lulled to sleep. There were three rows of shelves facing the front of the store, and one wall that had shelves nailed on to it. I walked through the isles, letting my index finger drag gently across random books. I mumbled the titles to myself. There was nothing interesting. Nothing that would distract me from my newly found obsession. I turned my head moderately to the side and saw a 16-year-old boy, with honey brown hair, and dark blue eyes reading in the corner.
His skin was a bronze color, just like mine. He leaned against the wall, reading patiently, out of his book. It seemed to be red—matching the journal I had found. He looked up and I bowed my head abruptly. I knew he was just a boy—one that wouldn’t give me the light of day. It was like flaunting a shiny object in front of a toddler.
I couldn’t stop myself from staring.
I picked a random book off the shelf and put it up to my face to cover my eyes. I hoped he hadn’t seen my reaction; tilting the book down slightly, I noticed that he had been looking straight at me. His dark blue eyes coated with some kind of feeling. Like the way a wolf would look at a moonless sky. Longing, desire—pain, and hate. He swallowed a couple of times and held eye contact. Like he was studying me—trying to figure what my name was, why I was here—why I was staring back. I couldn’t move my eyes, it was like I was scared—his presence trembling, wearing me down. He looked down at his book, and back at me one more time. My forehead broke out in sweat, trying to breath I glanced at him sideways. He was still staring, letting his eyes gaze over my body, with concern. I was sure he could hear my heart stop beating. Without another second he dropped his book and walked out of the bookstore.
My eyes traced his steps—my body leaned against the bookshelf limply. Something about him made me angry, fill my blood with rage.
“So, I’m guessing you met Cole.” Bird yelled from behind the register. He was handing a costumer her receipt.
I cleared my throat, “what do you mean?”
“Well, you seem dazed and heart broken. He tends to do that.”
I shrugged and started to walk out the door, “well, whatever he does—it didn’t work on me.”
“You’re dad should be out in a minute. Should I tell him you would be waiting by the car?”
I didn’t even answer his question. I jumped into the car before my legs gave out, trying to remember how to breathe.