My clothes smell of sweat and greasy food. I exit the restaurant holding my last ten dollars in my hands. They hadn't been looking to hire anyone, especially a young woman without a resume.

So, I sit down on the corner of the sidewalk and take a deep breath. The air is cold and damp here, much more like a rag over my mouth than I was expecting. I could never miss home, but I miss sleeping on a bed, instead of on a bus or a park bench.

A few tears leak out of my eyes, and I decide to press forward. I can hear someone across the street talking about me. Middle schoolers. One of them points at me and laughs. Middle schoolers are a particular brand of cruelty that I'd only heard about before I left.

I rarely want quiet. I always feel as if I'm missing a piece of me, but I imagine that was because of how I was raised. It's hard to unlearn the things our parents download onto us, but I'm trying. So, I reach up and turn down my hearing aids. They are going to die soon anyway, so I might as well save some battery before I can buy some new ones.

Dwelling is not my specialty. So, I stand up. As I step onto the road, I feel something grab me around the arm and yank me backwards. I scream in pain as something inside me tears. A flash of black passes before my eyes. A truck, one that nearly collided with me, zooms by. I reach up to grab my ears and up my hearing aids. As I do, I hear the end of a car honking.

My arm is on fire. I wince, holding it tightly. It's stuck at my side.

"Sorry," a voice behind me manages.

I turn around. Behind me are two behemoths of men, each more than six feet tall. My eyes narrow, my brow scrunching as I try to contain the pain.

"Are you alright?" the man looks at me, his eyes wide. "Oh fuck. Is your arm okay?"

I close my eyes tightly, the pain a searing white buzz across my shoulder. "I... I'll be fine."

"That looks dislocated," the other man points out. He runs a hand through his cropped black hair. "That doesn't look good."

"We need to get you to the hospital," the first man says.

I shake my head. I don't dare look at my shoulder and can only imagine how disjointed it must look. If it weren't for the first man before me, I would be flattened against the road, so I can't be mad. "I can't go. I don't... I haven't... this hurts. A lot."

The second man cocks an eyebrow. He nudges the second. "Maybe Emily will be able to help, or Sam."

The first man mutters something under his breath. He looks around and then looks at me. "What's your name?"

I could lie if I wanted to fib. I could tell him anything, and no one would know any better.

"Fawn," I finally say.

"I'm Quil, and this is Embry," the second man points between them. "It's going to be a bit of a drive to La Push. Think you can manage the pain during the ride?"

I nod. I let Embry and Quil lead me back to their car. It's a tiny beat-up Honda Civic, that's got to be at least ten years old. It's better than any luxury I have now, so I don't mind.

Embry opens the door for me and lets me take the front seat. I am still cradling my arm. I'm not planning on trying to move it anytime soon, so I let Embry put on my seatbelt for me and take my backpack into the backseat. I try to be tough, avoiding wincing.

This is my comeuppance. These are my just desserts. I cannot stress how exactly fair this entire situation is.

"Do you want to talk to keep your mind off things?" Embry asks once we get in the car.

I shake my head. "I'd like to listen though."

As they talk, I find out a bit from them. La Push is the town holding the nearby reservation, where both Embry and Quil live. Emily and Sam are two of their friends, who happen to be engaged, with their wedding coming up in just a few weeks.

"Where are you from?" Embry asks. "I haven't seen you around before. Not that I spend a lot of time in Forks."

"Ohio," I answer. It's a lie. The first of many, I imagine.

Quil, who is driving, furrows his brow. He doesn't take his eyes off the road. "What brings you to Forks?"

Nothing really propelled me to Forks, besides Google. Things just drove me away from the place I grew up. It's hard to explain that to a group of strange men, however. Rather than elaborate, I shrug. Then I groan.

"Try to keep still," Embry suggests. "We'll be there soon enough."

He's right. Within the next ten minutes, we roll up into a driveway. The house is quite large, quite modern. Its windows are large enough to see inside clearly. There is a table in the kitchen made to seat almost a dozen people, and a woman who turns her head as we pull in.

As the car rolls up to a stop, I watch as the woman walks out of the house. She sees the boys and her face drops. She runs back inside.

"Is that Emily?" I ask.

Quil taps my good shoulder. "Yes, but don't stare at her. Sam's already going to be angry enough."

Embry gets out of the car and opens the door for me, helping me out. Even though I don't know him, I lean into his side, stealing his body warmth. He is entirely too warm for such a cold September day. Besides that, he's only wearing a t-shirt.

A man walks outside the house, also barely dressed. I can see a tattoo poking out of the sleeve of his t-shirt. The woman looks at me, furrowing her brow.

"You're early," he says, looking at them. "Where's Jacob, and who's she?"

"This is Fawn," Quil introduces me before I can introduce myself. It's not that I mind. In fact, it's easier to bite my lip and concentrate on the pain this way.

Embry sighs, "I dislocated her arm in Forks."

"You should've gone to the hospital," Sam says, but leads us inside anyway.

The table with a dozen chairs is cleared off. The entire main floor is a kitchen. It's well cleaned, from the spotless hardwood floors to the wiped-down countertops. Everything seems to have a place, and it is well kept. There is no living room. The only other things, besides the two fridges, are stairs going up and door, leading to what I imagine must be a basement.

Embry helps me up onto the table, and I let my left arm dangle off the edge. From there, Sam leans over and begins to work.

"This is going to hurt," he warns, just before he pops my arm into my socket.

I try not to cry out in pain. I've seen worse injuries, but I've never experienced one. I wince, and tears stream down my face once more. A scream throttles my throat, but I contain it.

Embry helps me up.

Emily comes over with some fabric that she uses to make me a sling.

"Should be alright until we can get you to a hospital," Emily says.

I don't bother arguing with the woman. I watch as she runs the fabric around me, and I try to avoid looking at the scratches scarring her face. They can't mean anything good, after all. Instead, I look over to Embry and Quil who are whispering to the man over in the corner. Maybe they are talking at a normal volume. It's hard to tell with the thumping of my heart.

"Is there anyone we can call to come and get you?" Emily asks. "Or anywhere we can drop you off?"

I snap my agape mouth shut. They could drop me off back at the restaurant, and I could continue my search for a job elsewhere, but with a busted arm, I'm not going to be much help. No one will want to hire me.

"How long do you think this will take to heal?" I ask.

Emily bats her eyelashes. They are long and dark black. Her eyes are beautiful. Emily is perhaps one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. It's not just her face either, not her russet skin and dark black hair, but also the way her hands gently tuck the sling into place.

"A few weeks, but you should be able to use it again in a week," Emily points out.

The others regroup, and though I am sitting on a table, my feet dangling off the ground, the men still tower over me. What's in the water in La Push?

"So, Quil and Embry mentioned that you're not from around here," the man, Sam, says. "Do you have a way to get home?"

"I," in the three days since I have left, a fake story still hasn't occurred to me. Even one mundane. "I'm not going home. You can drop me back off where you found me."

"Do you have a place to stay?" Emily asks.

I don't dare lie to Emily. It would be like lying to an angel. So, I look down instead.

Sam and Emily exchange a glance.

"We have a spare room," Emily says.

"One night," Sam points out. "Just, keep her out of the bonfire. And I'm not in charge of cleaning up your messes anymore, Embry. Leave that to Black."

~~~~~

I've read this over half a dozen times and it finally feels ready! I'm so excited for Fawn to be out in the world! Maybe it's a bit contrived but who cares.

I hope to see you all in the next chapter!