Loca, Spider Monkey

67. Embry Call - Imprinting

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Pick up, you pleaded silently. Come on, come on, come on—

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mrs. Call," you said. "It's (Y/N). I was just wondering — is Embry home?"

You heard a shuffling on the other end of the line and then a heavy sigh. "No, honey, he's out. Again. On a school night." Her irritation was very obvious, though it was nothing to what you felt. "I'll tell him you called, though."

"Thanks, Mrs. Call."

Hanging up, you let yourself fall on your bed and curled yourself around your pillow. There was a deep ache in your chest that pulsed through the rest of your body, and you hated Embry Call for being the reason behind it. You knew very well who he was out with — Sam Uley's gang. A bunch of delinquents. And now Embry, your best friend, was one of them.

Two weeks ago, he'd gotten sick and missed a few days of school. When he came back, he had a tattoo and had cropped his chin-length hair even shorter. But the worst part was that he'd suddenly started ignoring you, like you didn't matter anymore, like you'd been just a stepping stone he'd used to get into Sam's gang. A temporary best friend that he'd replaced with Jared Cameron and Paul Lahote.

And it hurt you right down to your bones.

Slipping on your shoes, you decided to go out for a while and try to clear your head, though in reality, you were just hoping you would stumble onto Embry and his new friends. You were itching to yell at him and give him a piece of your mind. Maybe even hit him once or twice. He certainly deserved it.

Promising your mother you wouldn't stay out too late, you hurried to your car and started driving down to the reservation. As the sun set below the line of thick trees in the distance, it almost looked to be weeping, its sickly yellow-orange rays faltering and giving way to the dark. It only made you that much more morose.

You drove past the only diner in La Push — and stomped hard on the brakes. Four boys were walking out, two of which were laughing raucously. You recognized them as Jared and Paul, and instantly wanted to puke. Beside them were Sam and Embry; the latter looked slightly amused but seemed to be less interested in their conversation.

You got out of your car and slammed the door shut, instantly getting everyone's attention. Jared and Paul stopped laughing and took a defensive stance, though they really shouldn't have. It wasn't their asses you'd be kicking.

"Two weeks, Embry — two weeks!" you exclaimed. "You piece of shit didn't bother to call back once! Oh, but it's totally fine, right? Because now you're so hardcore, following Sam Uley around like a lost puppy."

"Easy," Sam warned, though you weren't exactly sure who he was warning — you or Paul, who was starting to tense beside him.

Embry winced. "(Y/N), don't—"

He met your eyes and seemed to lose his train of thought. He breathed sharply — almost painfully — and took a step back from you. Sam put a hand on Embry's shoulder as if to steady him.

"Crap," Jared muttered.

You felt lightheaded and dazed as if waking up from a bad dream — only you weren't dreaming. Embry was still very much Sam's Embry, all tattooed and heartless, and you knew your best friend was never coming back to you.

"(Y/N)," Embry said, though it was barely above a soft whisper. If you hadn't known better, you would have thought he was aching inside, too.

You shook your head and got back in your car, not wanting to let him see you cry. He didn't have that right anymore.