It Was You From the Start

"Rory, honey, wake up." Something shook my shoulder. The voice sounded like my dad's. "Rory, we have to get off the plane now." Definitely my dad. I hadn't realized I was sleeping until then.

"What?"

"Come on, we have to go. You can sleep as soon as we're in the car."

"You expect me to sleep when ther's so much excitement?" I asked, obviously sarcastic. He glared. I don't think he got the sarcasm. "Sorry. Where are we?"

"Seattle. We've got a while before we hit the reservation. Plenty of time to sleep."

"Dad, I'm not going to be able to sleep after I just woke up. It's a curse. Once I'm up, I'm up." He looked at me as if he didn't believe me. We got off the plane and Dad went to get my bag and Toby.

"Toby! How's my baby?" he started barking softly. "I missed you. Can I take him out, Dad?"

"Not now." I frowned quickly. "In the car, I promise." The frown turned into a small smile.

"Okay. Just a little bit longer, Toby."

As Dad led me to the car, he was praising La Push. he said the school was great. I'd have to finish here. We'd only gone through a month of school, so I knew I wouldn't be behind. It seemed as though there was a lot to do. I was one hundred percent sure I wasn't going to be participating in any of it.

We got to the car and I took Toby out of his crate and sat him on my lap. Dad didn't talk much. He probably wanted me to go to sleep. This just made the suspicion and commitment to stay up stronger.

I stared at my father's face. It was dark, but I could still see the dark features. His short, but cropped hair was dark, as well as his eyes and dark caramel-colored skin. I didn't get my looks from him. He was mostly Native American. I had very light-colored skin. My long blond hair usually fell straight to the small of my back, but today it was pulled back in a ponytail. Everyone always said my mom and I looked exactly the same. Almost like sisters. I had my mom's look and my father's attitude. I didn't believe that for a second. For all I knew, I was nothing like him.

"What?" Dad asked.

"Nothing. I was just wondering."

"About."

"Quil." He seemed to straighten up.

"What about him?" His voice was tense.

"How old is he?"

"He just turned seventeen. He's big for his age, though."

"What's he like?"

"You'd have to hang out with him to get that. I don't know what he does anymore. He is always out with his friends running around doing crazy things."

"How long has he been living with you?"

"A while." He rounded the corner to his street.

"How long is a while?"

"Since he was one and a half."

"That couldn't have been long after Mom and I left."

"No, it, uh, it wasn't."

"Is that why she left?" he was quiet. I figured he wasn't going to answer the question so I turned to face the windshield.

"Yes, it is."