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Pack Boys

Everything started so innocently, a simple bonfire upon the beach, but then things got complicated. Lives were changed and hearts were shocked... (A La Push gang Fan fiction) Image Hosted by ImageShack.usChapter 25 is out!!!

We had a little too much fun with the packs valentine's day one shot, so we decided to make it into a whole story!

4. In trouble

Rating 3.7/5   Word Count 896   Review this Chapter

Blue, it was all blue. The color screamed up at me. I checked the box again. Blue. There had to be a mistake, but deep down I knew it was right. I had known. I was officially screwed over royally.

I grabbed my cell phone and deftly punched in the numbers.

I waited impatiently as each ring sounded, waiting for the phone to be answered.


"Mashaal, Um… I'm kind of in trouble."

"What did you do this time?" She chuckled, probably waiting to hear about another silly event in my crazy life.

I fiddled with the edge of my shirt, trying to formulate the right words.

"You remember how we spent Valentine's Day on the beach with those guys from La Push?"

"How could I forget?" She giggled.

"Well," The rest of the words came out in a nonsense jumble of syllables.


"Wait, what did you say?" She sounded completely and utterly confused. I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak slower.

"I'm pregnant and I think Paul is the father."

There was silence on the other end.

"Mashaal, are you still there?" I asked desperately.

"Yeah…did you just say you were pregnant?"

"Yes." I said, some what ashamed.

"Uh…Okay, so did you tell Paul yet?"

"No, I can't, I mean, I can't tell him that over the phone. I've been dodging his calls so that I don't tell him by mistake."

"You have to tell him."

"I know, that's why I'm going to Forks."

"I'll meet you there then." She said, finalty ringing in her voice.

That's why I loved having Mashaal as my friend; she always knew when I needed support, even if it meant she would be flying 4 hours just for me.

I couldn't tell my parents, they never understood me anyway. I packed my duffel bag and snuck out the window, balancing precariously as I walked across the roof. I dropped down into the yard and began to walk to the train station in town. I bought one ticket from the machine, using cash so that there was no trace.

I boarded the steal contraption amid midnight's shadows. I took one last glance out the dirt stained window at the home I was leaving behind. The town slid by as the metal spokes turned and the train trudges forward into my unknown future…

The sky was dark--not a pitch black dark--more of an intimidating gray. The rain dripped down, soaking through my ratty worn-out sweatshirt. My duffel's strap was cutting into my shoulder, leaving yet another red strip of tender skin, like it had everyday since this horrid trip had begun. The worst part of it all was that mixed with my motion sickness, I was now getting morning sickness. I hadn't really kept anything down in the last 2 days.

The train station was cold; I had been sitting on the curb trying to figure out where I was going to go. Mashaal had called my cell phone early today to tell me that she finally had gotten a flight and told me that her flight wasn't going to be in for another hour. I figured I would have to go down to La Push eventually.

I hailed a cab---hopefully by the time I arrived at La Push, Mashaal would too. The green slime of the Washington Peninsula slid past the window of an old taxi cab that smelled faintly of tobacco and cheap perfume. My sneakers rubbed back and forth across the carpet of the cab. I started biting my tongue, a bad habit I had never grown out of, though I only did it when I was scared or nervous, and right now, I was both.

The dark forests of the highway began to break apart, and houses were becoming visible. We passed by the turn-off for Forks. The cab driver looked back at me when we passed the worn, chipping sign that was welcomed visitors to La Push. He was a middle age man with graying hair and stubble for a beard.

"What is the address you are going to?"

"Um, why don't you just drop me off here?"

He pulled over, right in front of the sandy stretch of beach that had been the cause of all this trouble.

I pulled out my wallet and handed him a couple of crisp bills, before opening the door into the down pour that seemed to be a coalescent downer on my already sunken mood. Sitting my bag down on the curb; I slipped off my sneakers and let my feet sink into the moist sand. The feeling of the beach between my toes helped me to relax.

I took a deep breath. It was time.

I grabbed my bag and my shoes, and headed down the street. I found the house by the description Paul had given me when he had told me all about his home. The house was a faded blue that stood out among the sea of brown homes. I walked up to the creaking wooden porch, over the water warped boards and knocked on the door.

Paul opened the door, his face instantly turning to shock as he saw me looking very much like a drowned lost puppy standing at the threshold of his house holding a soaked duffel bag in one hand and dirty sneakers in the other.