"Nope," I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn't get caught in my lie, but also wishing that a miracle would ocular and Fredward would appear.
Mike looked satisfied.
"Will you ride in my Woody? It's that or Lee's minivan." Only Mike could make minivans sound appealing, I thought.
"Yeah. Mind if I ride in the back?"
"Sure," he said, "but I don't have seat belts back there," he warned. He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy. "You can have shotgun," he added. "Up front with me."
"I want to ride in the back," I clarified.
Mike leaned in. "If you don't ride in the front," he whispered, "I'm going to kill myself." I hid my chagrin. I knew Jessica was going to kick my ass. I could see her glowering at us now.
The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two of his second-cousins, and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess's ass in between Mike and me in the front seat of the Woody. Mike could have been more graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.
It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayutuzitlikjtaewrkjf141 River snaking beneath it twice. Everyone was enjoying the view except Mike, who was looking past Jessica at me, and panting. We'd rolled the windows down—the station wagon was a bit claustrophobic with nine grody teenagers in it—and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.
I'd been to beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. It was breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel-gray harbor waters with sheer cliff
141. Bella is too frustrated with the 'ethnic name' to look up how to spell it.