CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Yeah, I'll... I'll try talking to her, see what I can do." Kim sighs before hanging up the phone, ending her conversation with Jeremy.

"Well?" Paul questions, getting more and more anxious by the minute, but the front door opens before she can tell him anything, and he's disappointed to see that it's Henry walking into the house and not Jay. "Where the hell is she?"

"Dude, calm down. We'll find her." Jared tells him.

"She's not at Bella's, she hasn't been to Jake's, we spent days checking all through the woods in case she got lost on one of the hiking trails. She isn't anywhere!" He snaps, his body starting to tremble with his anger.

"That's enough!" Henry steps forward, and the boys look at him. He then turns his attention to his younger sister. "Did you talk to Jeremy?" He asks, and she nods.

"Yeah, he told me that—"

The door opens again, and they all turn to see Jay making her way inside. She shuts the door behind her and then stops when she sees four sets of eyes all trained on her. "What?"

"What the hell do you mean what?" Henry questions as he turns his entire body to face the little brunette. "Mike brought you home drunk Friday night, you disappeared Saturday morning, and nobody's heard from you since. Where the hell have you been for the past three days?"

"I was out." She says as she starts for hers and Kim's bedroom.

"And you didn't think that maybe you should let someone know where you were going?"

"Not really, no."

"What the hell has gotten into you?" He demands, and she just shrugs.

"I talked to Jeremy!" Kim yells, and the boys all look at her as Jay's steps falter. "Why didn't you come to me? Or to Bella?" She asks, and the younger girl turns around to look at her.

"What would either one of you have done for me?" Jay asks.

"We could've been there for you, so you wouldn't have had to be alone."

"I wanted to be alone." She tells her.

"For three days?" Kim shakes her head. "Nobody should be alone after something like that happens."

"What do you want me to say, Kim? What exactly is it that you want from me here?"

"I want you to drop this...indifferent act. Stop pretending that it doesn't matter."

"I'm not indifferent, and it does matter." The younger girl nods. "I spent the weekend either drunk or sobbing, and I spent today sobering up and pulling myself together. And I did it alone because nothing that anybody says is going to make it hurt any less, or make the grieving go any easier. I'm not indifferent, Kim, I'm pissed.

"They knew how sick he was, they knew how things were going to go. One way or another, they knew that he was going to die. And they said nothing to me. They all got to hug him. They got to look him in the eye as they thanked him for everything that he's done for us, told him they loved him, and then they all said goodbye. And me? I got a phone call as the God damn sedative was kicking in!" She snaps, and Kim jumps, startled by her outburst. "So, yes, I got drunk, I took off, and I skipped one day of school. I didn't think to call...because I didn't really care. I wanted to be alone, so I shut off my phone."

"Are you gonna go back to Mystic Falls?" Kim asks, not knowing what to say to any of that.

"For what?"

"What do you mean for what? For Ric's funeral."

"There isn't gonna be a funeral. Damon's taking care of having him buried."

"Then to be with Jeremy and Elena for a few days." She says, and Jay shakes her head. "You can't stay mad at them for this."

"Sure, I can, but that's not why I'm not going." She tells her. "The town's busy planning a memorial for the people that Pastor Young blew up in his house last night. Death happens, Kim, and it happens more often in that town than most others. I think I'll just catch the next funeral."

"You can't go through something like this alone. I know what he meant to you." Kim argues. "And you can't just pretend that you're okay when you're not."

"Six months ago, I buried my mother, my uncle, and my best friend all on the same day; and that was just the last funeral that I went to." Jay says. "If I can get through that, I can get through pretty much anything." She glances around the room at the four of them and then turns around and walks away, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her.

—

Jay's sitting at the table at her house, and she's resting on her left elbow as she writes in her journal. Paul's sitting to the left of her because Kim's forcing him to do his homework, and she knows that he won't do it at his own house. The little brunette isn't worried about him seeing what she's writing for two reasons — she's wearing an oversized sweater with the hood up, so he can't see anything anyway; and she really doesn't think that he's the snooping type.

She stares at the last line that she wrote in her journal before closing the book and pushing it to her right side, and then she pulls out her phone to call the person that she'd just been writing about. The line rings a few times, and then his familiar voice comes through the phone.

"My favorite little rugrat." She can hear the smirk in Damon's voice.

"You enjoy making me want to stab you, don't you?" She asks as she sits up straight, which causes Paul to look at her, obviously confused by the question.

"I think you miss our bickering."

"I think I need help with my History homework, and there's no speed dial for spirits."

"There's a ouija board."

"I watch a lot of horror films, and that never goes well. I'd rather just call you, even if you are a dick ninety percent of the time." Jay tells him as she taps her pencil against her notebook.

"Stefan's the one who attended high school—"

"Yeah, but I need help with Civil War stuff." She cuts him off, not sure how much Paul can hear. "I guess they study things in a different order in different states, and you were going to help me before when I was working on this at the grill." She reminds him, switching her phone to her right ear.

"Right." He nods. "You said that you were bad with dates, and you wanted help making a cheat sheet to study off of."

"Mhm. Do you have time right now?"

"For you? Always."

"Don't irritate me."

"I can't promise that. You're easily irritable lately." Damon argues.

"I have written down that the war lasted from April 12, 1861 to April 9, 1865. I need the dates between that filled in." She tells him.

"Oh, so, you don't need much then." He says sarcastically.

"Can you help me or not?"

"The president at the time was—"

"Lincoln. I'm not stupid, Damon." She shakes her head before holding her phone between her head and her shoulder.

"What do you know already?" He asks.

"Uh, well, I know that the Confederates were assholes, and that they surrendered after four years of a very bloody war." She says. "I know about their flag, and which states were a part of the Confederacy. I know what both sides were fighting for — mostly. Actually..." Jay starts flipping through her book.

"What?"

"Well, I know that the war was the end of slavery, and that was one of the main causes of the war, but my teacher said there were three other reason's that she wanted us to know."

"It centered around slavery — the two sides obviously had very different ideas on right and wrong." He says. "Control over the states was a big reason for the beginning of the war." He tells her, and she starts writing in her notebook. "Another reason that falls in line with that is the separation in cultural values."

"And the economy too, right?" She asks, and he nods.

"Isn't that a factor in the beginning of most wars?" He asks, and she nods as she writes. "That's three. What else do you need?"

"The first battle in the war was the Battle of Fort Sumter, right?" She asks. "So that's April 12 to..."

"The very next day." He tells her, and she writes that down. "And the last battle was the Battle of Palmito Ranch from May 12 to 13 of 1865."

"But...I thought the war had ended a month earlier." She says, her eyebrows furrowed.

"It did. You can probably find a better explanation online or in your book than I can give you. I don't remember everything, it was a hundred and forty-two years ago." He says, and she sighs.

"Alright, I'll look into it." She grumbles as she makes a note to do so. "And, uh, the bloodiest battle was Gettysburg, right?"

"Yep. Oh, you may need this too: September 17, 1862 — the Battle of Antietam. It was the bloodiest day of the war." He tells her.

"Lovely." She says sarcastically. "Mm, I should probably know the date of the Gettysburg Address too — I feel like that's important."

"November 19, 1863." He says. "You know, you could've just used a computer to look all of this up. Are you sure you didn't just miss me?"

"Kim's using the computer to do research for her English paper." She tells him. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you know all these dates off the top of your head."

"Yeah, well, it's not often one finds himself on the wrong side of history." He says, and she stops writing. "I was a Confederate soldier, that's why I deserted. My father wasn't pleased, but I hated him anyway. Giuseppe Salvatore was a bastard — he's the one who killed me and Stefan."

"Yeah, actually, I knew that last part."

"Maybe you're not missing out by not knowing who your father is." He says. "I mean, if Isobel's taste in men is any indication..."

"I should finish my homework." Jay says, clearing her throat. "Thanks for the help."

"Anytime." Damon says, and she hangs up.

"I could've helped you with that." Paul says as she sets her phone down.

"You're doing your own homework." The little brunette says as she starts flipping through her textbook.

"Oh, no, please, distract me from Shakespeare." He says, and she chuckles. He smiles as he looks at her, relieved to finally be seeing something resembling a smile on her face.

"Shakespeare, huh? Sounds like you're the one who could use some help." Jay says, and he shrugs.

"Kinda, but I think I can manage."

"What are you doing?" She asks as she sets her pencil down and looks at him.

"Uh, my teacher wants us to find quotes from his different plays and analyze them." He tells her, and she nods. "I think she has a thing for romance in plays or something."

"Then she should find a different playwright." The brunette says. "Well, unless she isn't necessarily looking for a fairytale ending."

"What do you mean?"

"Shakespeare wrote tragedies. His plays ended in death — a lot of death, sometimes rather violent deaths." She tells him, and he just looks at her. "You've never actually read one of his plays before, have you? Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Macbeth?"

Paul shakes his head. "Not really my kind of thing."

"How are you supposed to find quotes if you've never read any of his plays?" She asks, and he shrugs. "Do you...want some help?"

"You've read them?" He asks, and she nods.

"My aunt loved writing and stories — she's the one who gave both me and Elena our first journals." She taps the little book beside her. "She always said that to be a good writer, you had to study the greats."

"You want to be a writer?"

"I did when I was younger."

"What changed?" He asks, and she shrugs.

"Just got older, I guess. Kids' dreams change." She says, and he nods. "Hang on, I'll be right back." She grabs her journal and takes it into her room, then comes back with her laptop.

"I thought you told your friend that you didn't have access to a computer." Paul says when she sits back down in her seat, no longer wearing her sweater.

"Kim fell asleep, and lying to Damon is always fun." She says as she waits for the computer to turn back on, and she can feel his gaze on her face. "And maybe I wanted to talk to someone over there just to hear that no one seemed... I had an excuse to call, and I used it. We're doing your homework now."

"You know any quotes off the top of your head?" He asks, seeing that she obviously doesn't want to talk about that subject anymore.

"This above all: to thine own self be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man." She recites, and he raises his eyebrows. "Polonius, from Hamlet."

"And you have that whole thing memorized, why?"

Jay shrugs. "Because I liked it. It means to be true to yourself, and to do that you have to be true to others as well. No lies, no deceit, only truth and honesty." She glances at him. "It's a hard thing to live by, especially when you don't always know what the truth is...or what's real."

He clears his throat as he looks down. "I think you just gave me my first quote... What was it again?" He asks, and she smirks.

"Start looking for quotes." She passes the laptop over to him. "I'll write that one down for you."

A few minutes later, he shakes his head as he sits back in his seat. "I don't understand what any of these are even saying." He says, and she smiles as she pulls her chair over so she's sitting beside him. "Is this even English?"

"It's Shakespearian... So, no." She chuckles as she glances from the screen to him. "How about this one?" She points to one of the quotes.

"A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm." He shrugs. "What the hell did I just read?"

"You eat fish, right?" She asks, and he nods. "And men use worms as bait to catch the fish?"

"Mhm."

"And worms eat what's in the ground..."

"You're saying I ate a man?" He asks, and she laughs as she shakes her head.

"I think this is meant to be talking more about the circle of life." She tells him. "And that, in the end, we're all the same. King or peasant, when you die, we all end up in the same place, and as fair game for something as...miniscule as an earthworm."

"We're not as big as we think we are." He says, and she nods. "How'd you get something that deep out of that gibberish?"

"It's not gibberish." She shakes her head. "And apparently, the messages in Shakespeare's plays are so important that we're still studying his work nearly four hundred years after his death."

"You're telling me that there are lessons to be learned from this?" He questions.

"If you know where to look."

"From the play that this quote is from?"

"Hamlet's a complicated story." She says. "In the character of Ophelia...there's probably a lot to be learned about madness."

"As in insanity?" He asks, and she nods.

"She was naïve, innocent, had a big heart...and eventually that combination, mixed with the rest of the characters, drove her to her death. She drowned." Jay says as she looks from the screen to him. "I think a common theme in Shakespeare's plays is that love doesn't always conquer all. Hamlet loved Ophelia, but he couldn't save her."

"Maybe he didn't love her enough."

"I think he would disagree." She looks back at one of the quotes. "I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum."

"That's not a fair comparison." He counters, and she looks back at him. "It's an entirely different kind of love. You wouldn't love a boyfriend the same as you love Jeremy, would you?"

"Well, I've never been in love, but no. I guess you're right." She agrees.

"You haven't?" He asks as she starts typing on the laptop again. "You've had a boyfriend before, haven't you?"

"I did, yeah." She nods. "We weren't together long, there were...things that came up. It just didn't work. I have love for him, but not...like that." She says, and he nods.

"What are you looking for now?"

"You can't look up Shakespearian quotes and not have one or two from Romeo and Juliet." She says, and he groans. "Not a fan?" She chuckles.

"I just think everyone's a little obsessed."

"Apparently there's nothing more romantic than forbidden love, and defying all to be together."

"I disagree."

"I do too, but it's one of his most famous plays." She says, and he looks at her.

"You don't think Romeo and Juliet is romantic?" He asks, almost surprised.

"I'd want my mother to like any man I end up with. I'd want my brother and sister to approve. I think that's the kind of love that people should strive for." She tells him. "The kind of love that's good for you; that builds you up, not tears you down. Certainly not the kind that ends in suicide."

A small smile pulls at his lips as he looks from her to the laptop screen. "Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake — it's everything except what it is." He reads, and Jay stares at the quote.

"Hot and cold." She mumbles, and he looks back at her.

"Hm?"

"Uh, nothing." She shakes her head and then starts scrolling through more of the quotes, trying to push what she was thinking out of her head. "Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow."

"What the hell is sweet sorrow?" Paul questions as Jay sits up straight, her shoulder brushing against his.

"Like bitter sweet." She says as she looks back at him. "Romeo's saying that he's sad he has to say goodbye to his love for today, but he looks forward to seeing her again tomorrow."

"Maybe he wasn't a total idiot." He says, and a small smile pulls at her lips as she looks into his eyes — those familiar brown eyes that she's found comfort in since the first time she looked into them, even if their first meeting did strike her as odd.

Paul starts to lean toward her, and Jay closes her eyes as he rests his hand on the side of her face. His own dark eyes slip shut as his breath mingles with hers, and her fingers curl loosely around his wrist. His lips then lightly brush against hers, but the front door opens before anything more can happen between the two of them.

Henry walks in and sees Jay quickly stand up from the table, leaving a very irritated Paul glaring at him. The older boy glances around the house before his gaze settles back on the teenagers.

"You two aren't alone here, are you?" He asks, and Paul grinds his teeth.

"Kim's in our room." Jay tells him, rinsing a cup in the sink, and he nods. She's hiding how bright pink her cheeks flushed from almost kissing Paul.