*Note: This isn’t an accidental double-post. I was 1,500 words over the LJ limit and had to split it up, but the two chapters go together. Sorry.
Chapter 10 – Scent
We open the chapter with Bella whining that Wardo has to leave because Jacob’s coming over, and right off I’ve got problems with it, because it doesn’t feel like what she whines it is—“immaturity”—but it feels like she’s whining because oh, Wardo is going to be out of her sight for a few minutes, whatever shall she do. Not to mention that werewolves and vampires in general have a very tense and strained relationship—these two in particular are much worse. So why Bella would want to make Jacob watch her paw and fondle and grope Wardo is beyond me—just to rub in the salt a little more, I guess?
And then Wardo kicks it up a notch one sentence later when Bella obviously expresses displeasure at him leaving. “It’s not that I feel any personal antagonism towards him, Bella, it’s just easier for both of us.”
You wanna know what’s so funny? Because right after he says that, he sweeps Bella into his arms and breathes all over her. In other words, he says he’s totally cool with Jacob, and then immediately, unnecessarily, and purposely marks his territory. Territory that he knows Jacob wants. But he wanted to stink it all up so he wouldn’t be tempted to get close to her.
Yeah. No antagonism whatsoever. I feel a fic coming on.
Wardo goes leaping off shortly after he pisses all over Bella—which was winkie #3, picking up from chapter three—and then Jacob arrives a few minutes later as Bella is cleaning up the kitchen. She whines that “everyone seemed to be so much faster than [her]”, which irritated me, tells Jacob to come in, and he appears behind her without making any noise. She notes that he still has some kind of allergy to shirts, and then—geez, you are SO FRACKIN’ STUPID!!!—asks him why he doesn’t wear more clothes.
Personally? I think Jacob’s written condescension is quite justified here. How stupid can you get? You SAW what happens to their clothes back in New Moon. And yet, I’m supposed to think Bella is just oh-so smart and snarky. Not bloody likely, Meyer. This would’ve been more believable:
Jacob was, yet again, bare-chested and wearing nothing but his jeans. I rolled my eyes. “Jacob, I know you’re super-proud of your newfound muscle, but using ‘I turn into a werewolf’ as an excuse to run around half-naked is really just silly.”
Jacob grinned. “Why deny the ladies, Bella?”
But Meyer can’t/won’t write real humor, so we’re left with what we got. Phooey.
Bella actually doesn’t get it for another half a page, so Jacob pretty much has to spell it out for her, and the points out the black leather cord he has on his ankle, which is apparently where he stores his jeans when he pops.
Time out. That makes absolutely no sense and doesn’t work at all.
If they all strip down, take the time to tie up their jeans to their ankles, and then pop—well, Meyer, have you ever seen what happens to a dog that has had the same size collar on its neck since it was a puppy? Watch “Animal Cops”, and you’ll see exactly what happens. Does the leather cord magically expand when they pop? Are their werewolf legs the exact size of the human calf? I sincerely doubt that, considering the calf is here on animals like dogs and wolves:
And if your wolves are the size of horses and are packed with more muscle than Reb Brown, their calves are gonna be a lot thicker than what they are tied to before popping. I’m guessing your Biology Phail lets you think that the joint just below it is the actual calf of a wolf, hmm? No, that’s their foot. They walk on their toes. Watch a cat rock back on its hind legs some time—you’ll see what I mean.
Unless, of course, you’re implying they take their pants off, pop, and then tie their jeans to their legs. Which, if you are, it’s the Wolf Man who had opposable thumbs. Werewolves don’t. They’re…wolves.
So, Jacob asks if him being all nekkid bothers her, and she says no before turning back to the dishes. He quickly gets down to business, saying that he “wouldn’t want to give [Wardo] an excuse to say [he is] slacking on [his] side”, which is perfectly legitimate, considering Wardo pretty much said the werewolves were useless in the last chapter. He asks where the scent is strongest, Bella directs him to the bedroom, so he troops on up—silently, of course. We don’t even hear the door click, which is pure nonsense—your ability to move silently has nothing to do with a creaky door, unless you ooze WD-40.
Jacob then appears again, saying how much the room stinks, then offers to help her do the dishes. He wants to ask questions, though—he wants to know what it’s like “having a vampire for a boyfriend”. She says “it’s the best”. Oh, yes—the way you’re constantly in danger, the way he constantly wants to eat you, it’s the best.
And I notice that his being a vampire no longer “doesn’t matter”. Oh, it matters a lot now. Bella, I think we can safely say that you don’t love Wardo because of his personality. You “love” him because he’s got money, he’s hot, and he’s your key to speshulness. That ain’t love, deary.
Jacob then asks if it creeps her out—nope—and then asks if she makes out with him. That’s a no, too, Jacob. But Bella answers affirmative, Jacob makes a joke about fangs, and personally, I think you should be asking about venom, Jacob. Since they don’t have fangs, that means their saliva is laden with venom. It’d be like kissing a Komodo dragon.
Yeah, that’s real sexy.
So, Jacob then asks when exactly she’s planning on having this little Turn Bella Into A Sparkly
Bella threatens a tantrum if he at least doesn’t show her his hand, so he does, and shazam, it’s already healed to a pink scar. Well, yay. Bella takes the time to state the obvious about how that should’ve taken so long to heal blah blah blah we get it Meyer, werewolves heal fast, you didn’t have to take two pages out of your stupid book to show us that, because Jacob not only told us about that last book, but we also saw evidence of it on Paul after Jacob bit him—which Jacob also kindly reminds us of a few sentences later.
So, Bella then sets to cleaning away the scent of blood with bleach, and Jacob asks if she’s got OCD or something.
Huh. Maybe. But at least I had a good excuse this time. "We're a bit sensitive to blood around here. I'm sure you can understand that."
"Oh." He wrinkled his nose again.
"Why not make it as easy as possible for him? What he's doing is hard enough."
"Sure, sure. Why not?"
Yes, Jacob—cater to the guy who thinks you’re no better than an animal and is racist against you for no reason other than the fact that he knows you like his girlfriend.
That wouldn’t be so infuriating if it weren’t for the fact that Bella there obviously thinks Jacob is bigoted and Wardo isn’t.
Then Jacob asks what she thinks of having a werewolf as a best friend. She also declares it the best, except she adds on “when the werewolf is being nice”. I notice you didn’t add on “when the vampire isn’t dismantling my engine and having me kidnapped and pompously giving me permission for everything I do because he gets off on controlling every aspect of my life” when you declared having a vampire as a boyfriend is “the best”.
Then Jacob hugs her, but quickly reacts negatively to Wardo’s little bit of scent marking there, and Bella finally realizes what Wardo was doing. She doesn’t feel any sort of animosity towards him, naturally. Actually, she feels animosity towards Jacob for daring to think vampires don’t smell just so awesome. Jacob spontaneously bids her farewell then, because Wardo is creeping around outside in the bushes. Before he goes, he invites her to a bonfire party out at La Push that night. And Bella’s immediate answer is, “I’ll ask.”
And that’s when Jacob becomes spontaneously Awesome.
He made a noise in the back of his throat. "Is he your warden, now, too? You know, I saw this story on the news last week about controlling, abusive teenage relationships and—"
"Okay!" I cut him off, and then shoved his arm. "Time for the werewolf to get out!"
He grinned. "Bye, Bells. Be sure you ask permission."
Oh, man. I would gladly bear your imprinted werewolf puppies for that, Jacob.
What’s even greater about it is that Meyer doesn’t even realize what she just did. So, basically, Jacob just laid the smackdown to both Bella and Meyer.
I…I don’t think I’ve ever really heard of a character actively reaching out of the pages and whacking its own creator with a cluebat before. How does Meyer do it?
Anyway, then Wardo sweeps in the instant Jacob sweeps out, and he’s got “raindrops glistening like diamonds set into the bronze of his hair”, and I just gagged, because even the WEATHER works to emphasize Wardo’s infinite perfection and beauty. He asks if Bella and Jacob fought, and Bella responds by leaping gracefully into his arms as if he’d been gone for a five weeks instead of five minutes. Then Wardo mentions that apparently, Bella stabbed Jacob and he’s totally into that. No, really. Bella fusses and washes the knife, saying that the injury was self-inflicted. Wardo laments that Bella didn’t stab him, then chucks her mail at her. Well, lookie there. Dartmouth accepted her because Wardo sent in her forms even though she clearly didn’t want him to.
And I really have to wonder how that worked. Dartmouth’s ranked as one of if not the most difficult private college to get into, accepting only 15% of its 14,000 applicants regularly. Your GPA has to be 3.83 unweighted (4.31 weighted), SAT has to be at least about 700 in all areas, over 1400 total, and/or ACT has to be at least 31. They also examine your character/personal qualities, your class rank, extracurricular activities, recommendations, and rigor of secondary school record.
Last we heard, Bella was almost failing at least Calculus due to a missed test from her little stint in Italy. We’ve heard nothing about her SAT or ACT scores, or even if she took the tests in the first place. We know for a fact that she has no desire whatsoever to go to college (not to mention has no character or personality, but that’s a writing issue). We know from later chapters that she is definitely not valedictorian or salutatorian. We know she does absolutely no extracurricular activities. We have heard nothing of any recommendations. As Bella is constantly lamenting, Forks High is basically a school for stupid people and she’s always ahead and is never taxed.
And I would also like to point out the biggest flaw in this whole thing.
The admission deadline is January 1st. Bella started filling out all these admission forms in April and May—May being the deadline for already admitted students to submit their Intention to Enroll form.
Meyer, I know it’s fantasy. I know you get a little leeway when it comes to science and believability and all that. BUT THERE ARE SOME THINGS THAT YOU HAVE TO RESEARCH. If you are setting this story in the real world, YOU HAVE TO MAKE SURE THE REAL WORLD IS ACCURATE!!! IT WOULDN’T HAVE KILLED YOU TO GO TO DARTMOUTH’S WEBSITE AND LOOK THIS FREAKIN’ STUFF UP!!! I DID!!!! THAT’S HOW I KNOW!!!!
Unfortunately, I suspect this is just more of Meyer’s belief that her supremely rich vampires can buy anything and anyone they want, particularly when I know what Bella happens to own in Breaking Dawn. But that’s another story for another time.
So, Bella then accuses Wardo of just that—she says he probably bribed her way in, and he not only doesn’t deny it but he is also all smug about it. Bella firmly says that she’s not going, so Wardo uses a different tactic to try and get her to do yet again what he wants rather than what she wants, insisting that it would please her parents. She insists upon the vampire thing under the guise of her being worried about surviving Victoria’s wrath, and—well, this is too vile to even try to sum up.
I sighed. "I'm mailing the contents of my bank account to Alaska tomorrow. It's all the alibi I need. It's far enough away that Charlie won't expect a visit until Christmas at the earliest. And I'm sure I'll think of some excuse by then. You know," I teased halfheartedly, "this whole secrecy and deception thing is kind of a pain."
Edward’s expression hardened. "It gets easier. After a few decades, everyone you know is dead. Problem solved."
"Sorry, that was harsh."
I stared down at the big white envelope, not seeing it. "But still true."
"If I get this resolved, whatever it is we're dealing with, will you please consider waiting?"
"Always so stubborn."
She gets reminded of how everyone she knows is going to be dead. She actually thinks about it for a moment. And one second later, is all cheery, “I GET TO BE A VAMPIRE!”
Why do these people constantly tell me how selfless Bella is? It doesn’t jive, Meyer. And in all honesty, Wardo, if you’re that serious about it, why don’t you just say “I won’t love you anymore if you become a vampire, because you won’t be the Bella I fell in love with”? It’s not below you—you’ve lied to her plenty before, and you know for a fact that she believes anything you tell her, even if it contradicts past or present behavior. Best I can figure, you’re just really not all that committed to keeping her human. And even if you did try that, I guarantee you’d see real fast just how much Bella values you as compared to her getting to be pretty and immortal. Wardo, she was willing to let you die from public sparkling in the last book just so she could get pretty. Wanted Alice to bite her on an airplane in front of everybody, she was so desperate. I mean, she completely forgot about you in an INSTANT, so intense was her desperation.
That’s all I’m saying.
Anyway, then the washing machine gets unbalanced, which is a nice and contrived and very abrupt ending to that conversation, so she goes to fix it, and then asks Wardo to ask Alice what she did with all the stuff missing from—WHAT? YOU HADN’T MADE THE CONNECTION? I THOUGHT WE’D FINISHED WITH THIS!!!!! *groans in agony*
Bella says ~*~ --> “ALICE” <-- ~*~ took her things that were lying around, Wardo gets stiff, asks if everything that was taken were things that would have her scent all over them, and Bella FINALLY MAKES THE CONNECTION, MY GOD, WHY DIDN’T YOU PEOPLE REALIZE THIS IN THE LAST CHAPTER???!!!!
And guess what? They STILL don’t know why the mystery vamp would do that, just so that Meyer can somehow draw out this contrived plot. GAD. Just then, COINCIDENCE!!! Carlisle calls, they chat for a moment, and then Wardo asks to see the paper. He goes and gets it out of the garbage outside and reads the headlines—turns out the problem in Seattle is getting worse.
AND THEY STILL. DON’T. CONNECT. THE DOTS.
Wardo then mentions that the Catholics are probably going to come in sometime soon to take care of this problem, says that maybe he and his should go and try to talk to these newborns, and mentions that Jasper will be good to have around and is all cryptic about it, because, hey, Meyer likes to drag things out as much as possible. Wardo and Bella have a tender moment, and then Wardo abruptly changes the subject and brings up the bonfire at La Push and we’re all smiles again.
So…you find out that a vampire took things from Bella’s room because they have her scent on them, Victoria’s still out there, there is what looks to be an army of newborn vampires up in Seattle and it’s getting worse, and after less than a page of discussion, you immediately just completely forget about it.
*SLAMS HEAD AGAINST BRICK WALL*
So, Bella says that she wasn’t going to ask permission to go to La Push anyway, even though she’d told Jacob she would, and Wardo’s all self-aggrandizing, saying that she doesn’t have to ask his permission, but the way it’s phrased pretty much sounds like he’s giving her permission to not ask his permission to go to La Push, which means she is still having to get permission from Wardo. Bella then says that she really is trying to not want to go, calls the La Push gang “a bunch of big idiot wolf-boys”, how sweet of her, frets, and then Wardo gives her even more permission to go all while sounding like he’s completely understanding and has seen the error of his ways and will no longer control what she does—even though he’s giving her permission and is well aware of the fact that Bella pretty much goes through life now wondering what Wardo will and will not let her do and always thinks of asking him for permission first, which is still a level of control. Frankly, I find it an even creepier level of control—before he was merely physically coercing her against her will. Now he has her conditioned to respond to his will without even needing to coerce her.
Wardo suggests a few precautions, Bella waxes poetic about his eyes, and SCENE.
Unsurprisingly, Charlie is fine with the La Push bonefire party. Plans are made, and Wardo and Jacob agree to meet at the border at six to allow Bella to change hands (her being an object to the both of them, and all). Then Bella has this bit of internal monologue regarding her motorcycle:
I had decided, after a short internal debate, that I would not sell my motorcycle. I would take it back to La Push where it belonged and, when I no longer needed it anymore… well, then, I would insist that Jacob profit from his work somehow. He could sell it or give it to a friend. It didn't matter to me.
So, she pretty much doesn’t care about the motorcycle anymore. The motorcycle that represents many weekends of hard work, many weekends shared with Jacob, that represents the friendship and love and camaraderie between them. She doesn’t need it anymore because she doesn’t need to use it to hear Wardo’s voice anymore by risking her life.
Meyer, you’re pissing down my back and telling me it’s raining again. Don’t you give me any of this bullshit about how Jacob and Bella are best friends. She uses him, and she never stops.
Bella explains to Wardo that she wants to take the motorcycle back tonight, and he gets all pithy about that. At first, she thinks it’s because he’s all “protective” of her regarding her riding a motorcycle. Then she finds out the real reason.
Next to my little antique motorcycle, overshadowing it, was another vehicle. To call this other vehicle a motorcycle hardly seemed fair, since it didn't seem to belong to the same family as my suddenly shabby-looking bike. It was big and sleek and silver and—even totally motionless—it looked fast.
"What is that?"
"Nothing," Edward murmured.
"It doesn't look like nothing."
Edward's expression was casual; he seemed determined to blow it off. "Well, I didn't know if you were going to forgive your friend, or he you, and I wondered if you would still want to ride your bike anyway. It sounded like it was something that you enjoyed. I thought I could go with you, if you wished." He shrugged.
I stared at the motorcycle for a few moments more, and then burst out laughing. Edward looked startled at first, and then affronted. “What?” he demanded defensively.
“Edward, I—I don’t even know where to begin!” I managed between giggles, still looking at the two motorcycles.
Edward still looked insultedly confused. “I fail to see what’s so amusing,” he said stuffily.
“That!” I howled, flinging my hand out and pointing a shaking finger at his motorcycle. “That is what’s funny!” And I nearly collapsed right there into hysterical giggles.
Edward gave me a minute before crabbily saying, “I’d like to remind you that I can’t read your mind.”
I wiped tears of mirth from my eyes, still chuckling. “Edward, this is getting ridiculous, this stupid jealousy you have over my being friends Jacob.”
Edward glared at me. “I am not jealous. I thought I made that quite clear.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so? Then what do you call this?”
“I already told you what it was,” he said stiffly.
“Okay, so you wanted to ride motorcycles with me—so why’d you buy that thing, instead of something simple more like mine?” I asked.
“Well, you already know us well enough to know that we like speed,” he retorted.
“Then how, exactly, were we going to ride together?” I asked dryly. “I tend to suspect that that motorcycle is just a tad faster than mine.”
“I would’ve held back to ride with you,” he replied smoothly.
“So why buy the motorcycle for speed if you had no intention of using it?” I asked. He opened his mouth to answer, but then snapped it shut. I smirked in smug triumph. “Face it, Edward—you bought this motorcycle strictly to prove that you have a bigger willy than Jacob.”
His mouth fell open in outrage. “Bella! That—that is absolutely ridiculous! I would never! That is—I wouldn’t—how could you say—”
“Oh, please, Edward,” I said, rolling my eyes as he continued to sputter. “And you can just get off your high-horse, there, too,” I added, regarding him beadily. “You regularly sneak into my bedroom and lay in bed with me all night, and you bought a bed you didn’t need strictly so we could roll around on it whenever I was at your house. Don’t try to evade the issue by having a fit of outraged propriety because I said ‘willy’.” I raised a sardonic eyebrow. “If that’s so awful, I wonder what would happen if I said ‘penis’.”
“Bella, stop that!” he barked at me, obviously flustered. “That is not why I bought that motorcycle!”
“Yes, Edward, it is. This?” I said, pointing at it. “Is a clear case of overcompensation. And furthermore,” I went on, glaring now, “it’s really insulting, too—my motorcycle holds a lot of shared memories between Jacob and me, and if you thought you could somehow prove that you’re better than him by buying an obscenely expensive one, I’m very ashamed of you. I value friendship over money, you know.”
“Bella, it is not like that,” he ground out, getting angry now. “I only bought it—”
“So you could ride with me,” I said, cutting across him. “I’ve already pointed out all the holes in that statement, Edward. Simply repeating stuff you’ve already said doesn’t make it true. Even if I’d never forgiven Jacob or vice versa, I wouldn’t have ridden around with you while you were riding that.” I eyed it, wrinkling my nose. “I’d be too embarrassed to be seen in public with you, really—can we say ‘ostentatious’?”
He puffed up like a toad at that remark, and I scowled. “You can protest all you like, Edward—the fact remains that you’ve been completely averse to me riding motorcycles this whole time, but the instant you find out I enjoy riding around with Jacob, you suddenly decide that it is not only all right, but buy a bigger, better, more expensive, faster, and flashier one?” I rolled my eyes again and shook my head. “You’d better hope I don’t tell Jacob about this. He’d never let you hear the end of it.” And then, just for the wicked delight of embarrassing him further (and to give him a little of what he had coming to him), I added, “Not to mention the fact that he has exactly zero modesty—I’m pretty sure that if he did find out, he’d be more than happy to drops his pants and settle the issue right then and there.”
Edward’s eyes flashed with anger, his jaw clenched and tight, but I just blew a raspberry at him. “Oh, get off it.” I made my way over to the passenger side of his car. “Untwist your panties and take me out to La Push. Think I’d like to hang out for a while with some people who aren’t uptight squares—and who don’t feel the need to use their cars to prove that they aren’t hung like a tic-tac.”
As usual, we get absolutely none of that. Wanna see what we get instead? You bet you do.
I stared at the beautiful machine. Beside it, my bike looked like a broken tricycle. I felt a sudden wave of sadness when I realized that this was not a bad analogy for the way I probably looked next to Edward.
"I wouldn't be able to keep up with you," I whispered.
Edward put his hand under my chin and pulled my face around so that he could see it straight on. With one finger, he tried to push the corner of my mouth up.
"I'd keep pace with you, Bella."
"That wouldn't be much fun for you."
"Of course it would, if we were together."
I bit my lip and imagined it for a moment. "Edward, if you thought I was going too fast or losing control of the bike or something, what would you do?"
He hesitated, obviously trying to find the right answer. I knew the truth: he'd find some way to save me before I crashed.
Then he smiled. It looked effortless, except for the tiny defensive tightening of his eyes.
"This is something you do with Jacob. I see that now."
Yep, gotta do it. One moment.
*cross-eyed* Oi. That wasn’t done out of major frustration, btw—that was to prevent me from exploding in another RAAAAAAAAAAAAGE.
Wardo buying that bike is indeed overcompensation, as I said up there. But it is also him going, “See? I’m rich, unlike that loser back in La Push. I can afford these awesome things and he can’t, and that makes me better than him.” And that is just SICKENING. He thinks that he can basically buy anything he wants, from a flashy car to acceptance into private colleges to memories of friendship. Notice when he gets pissy when she implies that that was fun time with Jacob, and that he can’t just replace it? He gets genuinely irritated that she doesn’t fawn all over his more expensive and flashier motorcycle. And, as we can see, my little stuff up there was right—he didn’t buy that for speed. He bought it to show his girlfriend how much better he was than Jacob, because he’s rich.
Even worse? Bella doesn’t call him out on it. She pretty much agrees with him, as we saw, constantly talking about how much her bike—and therefore Jacob—sucks in comparison. Oh, she tries to cover it up with a poor and eyeroll-worthy metaphor about herself, but those bikes are representative of Jacob, not her. So, not only was Wardo here being serious new-money trash by flaunting his money in an effort to show how much better he is than everybody else, but Bella agrees with him about it. Which is actually unsurprising—given that that’s what she strives to be. She wants to embody that exact same nouveau riche snobbery that so defines the Cullens.
And, considering that Bella and/or Wardo are Meyer’s mouthpieces throughout her series and reading quotes about what Meyer thinks about her books? I think it is safe to say that she thinks the same thing. I mean, she already thinks that, because her books sold well, that makes them literature worthy of comparison to the classics. Not to mention that I have heard stories of how pompous she is in interviews and how high-handed she is regarding her fans at Q&A sessions and book signings, and how she assumes that everybody in the general vicinity wants to worship the ground she walks on but she doesn’t have time for that and doesn’t even wait for them to approach her, just immediately tells them she can’t be bothered with them (yes, these are true).
*coldly* The fact that your books sold well doesn’t mean your books are literature. Your money doesn’t make you better than me. Your books are cheap pulp, and you are just as much of nouveau riche trash as your precious creations, you bitch.
Erm, clearly, I didn’t hit my head enough against that desk.
So, Wardo continues to handwave the motorcycle, and then asks if she’ll do something just for him and pulls out a helmet and a padded riding jacket, waving them at her with “the crooked smile that always destroyed [her] resistance”, and damn, but isn’t that creepy. Bella’s immediate thought? “I’ll look stupid.” Are we surprised? This is the same girl who ripped off the neck brace the paramedics put on her in Twilight simply because she didn’t want to look foolish. Never mind that she could’ve had a broken neck, or anything. Nope—mustn’t look silly in front of Wardo.
So, Wardo insists, mentioning that he “[hears] road rash is quite uncomfortable”, but, of course, is not satisfied leaving it there and feels the need to add “not that [he] would know”. Thanks for reminding us of your stony sparkly self, Wardo. We’d forgotten—I mean, Bella hasn’t waxed poetic about your marbleness in, what, five minutes? So, Bella puts it all on, complains for a bit, and then Wardo struggles to spit out what he thinks—apparently, he thinks she’s “sexy”. He wasn’t casting about for a right description, Bella—he was having trouble bringing himself to say the word “sex” (you know he’s gonna have to run home and wash his mouth out and then sit in the corner and think about what he did). Then he takes her helmet off and smooches her.
Scene change! Off we go to La Push. Bella mentions that Edward passing her off to Jacob feels like it did when she was seven and her mom would pawn her off to her dad in the summers. Considering I’ve already brought up the fact that more than once there have been some very sick and paternal vibes from Wardo regarding Bella, that doesn’t do much to help that assessment.
Halfway there, they see Jacob with his Volkswagen, and he immediately starts panting when Bella waves. Wardo hands her a cellphone, gives her instructions to call when she’s ready to go, and then gets her motorcycle and gear—out of his trunk? He…he put a motorcycle in his trunk? Even assuming he put the backseats down, why the hell would he put a greasy, muddy, filthy motorcycle in his car? Then Meyer proceeds to make no sense at all: “I’d been quite impressed that it had all fit. But it wasn’t so hard to manage when you were strong enough to juggle full-sized vans, let alone small motorcycles.” So, Wardo’s immeasurable strength somehow means he can fit a motorcycle into his trunk. Hint, Meyer—strength has nothing to do with storage capacity. Just because you can bench press 250 pounds doesn’t mean you can fit a square peg into a round hole.
And then before Bella turns to leave, Wardo pees on her—winkie #4—by making out (well, as much as he can, considering he’s a perfectly chaste Mormon boy) with her in clear view of Jacob. That’s not at all antagonistic. Bella and her motorcycle make their way to Jacob, who asks what the deal is with it, and she says she’s just returning it to where it’s supposed to be. The second she’s over whatever invisible line the werewolves and Cullens have drawn up, Jacob leaps over and pees on Bella in answer to Wardo—winkie #5. He hugs her super-tight, and Wardo revs his engine, and Bella has the nerve to tell Jacob to quit. Yeah, because Wardo macking on you in front of Jacob is perfectly okay, but Jacob giving her a hug in retaliation, well, that’s just ridiculous.
Bella then gets mad at him because his hugging her made her miss waving to Wardo, because he sped off the instant Jacob went PDA. “He’s being pretty dang pleasant about this; you don’t need to push your luck.”
There is so much wrong with that I don’t even know where to begin. So I won’t. Write your own damned rant.
Jacob then blathers about how he doesn’t have any luck, and then the chapter ends.
( Chapter 11 – Legends )