She wasn't much a fan of parties.

Maybe it was the gathering of people that didn't appeal to her.

Maybe it had something to do with presentation; she wasn't much good at leaving a good impression on others.

Or, just maybe, it was because she always left before she had a chance to enjoy them.

It wasn't by conscious effort on her part, really. It was just that whenever she went to large get togethers she found herself drifting away from the crowd without really thinking about it- to a seat, to a corner, out the door...

Even more so with gatherings her parents took her to.

Now, she was at a family dinner of sorts. Except bigger and more extravagant than average; no concern for expenses for her ailing grandmother and head matriarch.

It was held rather frequently, two or three times a year, in her grandmother's estate taking residence in largely due north of where she and her parents lived. Only those of her five children and their families invited, of course.

Only the day before, she and her parents were on a plane. Then the next day her mother had slid a pretty, expensive dark blue dress on her, pinned her curls up as best as she could, tossed a pair of black heels at her, and then they were at her grandmother's with the most expensive care package her mother could put together.

Now, they were mingling with their close, if only by blood, family, where the conversations seemed less about catching up more about one upping.

She had gotten a good look at all of her aunts, uncles, and cousins, and found herself making her way to the door.

She didn't feel too bad, she'd made her rounds and said hello to everyone and exchanged curt greetings with her grandmother. She would also see them all again once the matriarch came down and they could all commence with dinner.

Her hand was touching the handle of the front door when she heard a voice call out, "Meredith."

She flinched.

She really hated her name.

When she was younger, sparked by a combination of hatred for her given name and her fascination with a certain color, she came up with the brilliant nickname "Red."

Needless to say, even with her with insistence, her parents wrinkled their noses at the name. Her mother more so than her father-she could've been calling herself Starburst Camel (as she had a fascination for those too) for all he cared. No, it was her mother who ignored her pleas, not willing to encourage a habit she had been counting on phasing out.

It didn't.

Red had just stop counting on her mother (and, admittedly, the rest of her family) to call her that.

Speaking of which...

Turning around, she spotted her mother not too far away from her. Next to her, stood a woman with a graying head of blonde hair and a regal face drawn tight and sour. She identified her as her Aunt Marie, her mother's older sister, and not one of the most pleasant people in the world. It might have had something to with the fact that she was twice widowed, but Red felt she had probably always been unpleasant; had certainly been while was still married-both times.

Red looked back to her mother, noting the similarities between the sisters: fair features, straight back, and a proud face. They were traits all common among the Caplin family. True for any man born into the family, and doubly so for any woman, even as they got married and took their husband's last names. Even then, those of Caplin blood tended to flock to those of like nature.

Her eyes locked with her mother's stern blue ones and she replied, "Yes?"

And then she gave Red the look, eyes narrowing and head inclining just slightly, and she was making her way over to the two women under little will of her own.

As she approached, her aunt sneered down at her from the tip of her nose as she did to anyone who wasn't her two precious daughters, and her mother sneered down at her as she did to, well, everyone.

Maybe when her mother was younger, the wind shifted and it got stuck that way, because she had been doing that for as long as Red could remember.

"Yes, mother?" she repeated once she was closer.

Her mother did not quite nod in satisfaction, but she did seem to think that it was now fit to deign her with a reply. "Where were you going?"

"I just wanted to get some fresh air." She spared another glance to their present company. "Please."

Over Marie's shoulder, she spotted two figures approaching. She recognized them with a feeling akin to dread curling in her stomach.

It was Marie's two precious daughters.

One was tall, slender, and young (only a few years older than herself), with spider-like limps, sharp cheekbones, and a vacant look in otherwise catlike eyes. Her platinum blonde hair was styled into a short bob framing her face and accentuating her bleached eyebrows, sloped nose, and pouty mouth. That was Lottie, and it was rare that anyone or anything outside of herself sparked her interest.

Despite there being many reasons why the woman struck all the wrong chords in Red, she really only needed one.

Her head had to travel quite the distance up just to make eye contact.

The other figure was much shorter, less striking, and seemingly much more approachable for it. Her face was all cheek and no bone, giving her a bit of a baby face. Red would have found it rather endearing too, if only for the way her face was rounded like hers, were it not for the permanent scowl that lingered there.

Red supposed she'd always be grumpy too if every trot disguised as a strut her sister took made all her steps look like trudges in comparison.

Sara was Red's own age of sixteen, and was often in the shadow of her more graceful, stunning older sister. While she had her own charm in her bright eyes, long, dirty blonde hair, and waist fuller than her breasts and hips, it was all lost in the her sister's towering gait and oppressive aura.

Despite this, though, she was not at all submissive; quite the opposite, in fact. She was bossy, hot-tempered, and vain on a level almost comparable to Lottie.

With all these people she found unpleasant, Red started to get a sneaking suspicion that maybe the problem lied with her.

Then her mother caught and followed the path of her frantic gaze and rolled her eyes, nodding her consent in exasperation, and Red felt just a tad reassured that her dislike was slightly justified. "Oh, go... But it's rather chilly outside, so do take your... jacket." Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

Somehow she had managed to smuggle her favorite red hoodie with her, much to her mother's dismay.

Unfortunately, when they had first arrived, she had given it to an unrecognizable maid who had scurried off with in a direction Red did not remember the coat closet being.

But, eager to leave, Red nodded her agreement, hurrying away even as her mother said, "But don't be too long. Dinner should be ready and mother should be down any moment now."

There was a pause.

"Now where were we before our conversation was derailed, Martha?" Marie's voice was dry.

"Hm... Oh," her mother's voice rang out, low and sweet and snide, "I was just... wondering, why you never seem to bring that stepdaughter of yours? She has been in your custody for a long while now, has she not?"

Another pause.

"I do think the dear would feel most uncomfortable at a Caplin family gathering, don't you think? Surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces and all."

"Always have her best interests at heart, do you?"

"Indeed. Speaking of which, have you heard that our younger brother is thinking of adopting?"

An incredulous silence.

"That irresponsible fool can't handle a child!"

"Quite, abandons the family to backpack across the world, only to appear again with a woman with her hair streaked blue!"

The conversation faded and Red could only think that she had always been quite fond of her Uncle Joseph. It had just been a while since she last saw him.

Red headed in the direction of where the coat closet was, not surprised to find that her jacket wasn't there.

She suspected that her hoodie may have been stolen, because despite being years old with the color fading out, it was still a pretty rad shade of red regardless. Shame she couldn't remember where she had gotten it from so that she could get a replacement.

Just as she was making plans to go to the mall, a flash of gold from the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Turning, she saw a maid scurrying across the upper level, golden hair whipping around her head like a halo.

Belatedly, she realized it was the maid she gave her jacket to.

Red made her way up the stairs, ready to confront the woman. Where was her jacket? What did she plan to do with it? Why steal it and not make the proper getaway?

They were questions she direly needed the answers to... Once she got her jacket back.

She made a right and narrowed her eyes on a door clicking shut.

Red... was not much for confrontation. So she wasn't exactly sure of how to go about approaching the woman. But she was sure that whatever plan she came up with would just end up out the window anyway so she just went for it.

She turned the knob.

And it was met with resistance.

"I don't think maids are in any authority to be locking doors around here," Red said, tone flat. Then again, she was only around this mansion about twice a year. She repeated, "I think."

Red swore she heard the woman swear, but she often liked to decorate conversations with expletives in her head to make them more amusing, so...

The door swung open and Red jumped back because the first thing she'd do was step out, fists flying, if she were confronted by the person she stole from.

Luckily, the woman didn't swing because Red wasn't exactly sure she'd come out winning, but, unfortunately, that left them standing there staring at each other in confusion.

The thieving maid straightened herself, a pleasant smile brightening her already pretty features. "How may I help you?"

Looking at her this close, she saw how young the maid really was, much younger than the staff Red had always known or the usually employed.

Pretty too (in a very ill-fitting uniform, though, Red noted), extremely so, but those were always the troublesome ones; the ones who stole jewelry, spouses, jackets-

"Why did you steal it?"

No, no, no, no. She didn't particularly care for why, she just wanted it back.

Pretty Face flinched away as though she'd been slapped, and something like panic flashed in her green eyes. "Wha-"

"Wait. No. Where is it?"

Again, the wrong question.

"Ho-"

"Can I just have my hoodie back, please?"

Red usually got her way when she asked nicely.

The woman stared her for a long while, eyebrows furrowed and mouth drawn into a tight frown. She held a tight grip on the doorknob, and the door hadn't inched any wider away from body since she opened it. Then, suddenly, something in her entire stance seemed to relax, and her tense frown drew into a smile that didn't brighten her face like the first did. Instead, it dimmed down as if she were clocking out of the conversation completely.

"I'm afraid that I have no clue as to what you're talking about, Ma'am."

Red frowned, indignant. Her shoulders drew up, put out, and she sniffed, "Don't just blatantly lie to me. I handed it to you earlier."

It was the maid's turn to sniff and frown. "I am not lying. I haven't stolen anything." She crossed her arms, looking rather haughty, eyebrows raising in irritation. She was quick to wipe the look from her face, though, and hurried to ask, "Maybe you could be a bit more specific? I've collected a lot of coats this evening."

"Ha-!"

"That does not mean I stole it."

Red wasn't at all convinced but she would play this maid's games if it meant getting her jacket back. "It's a red hoodie," she said and that was all. That was it really. No designs or words, just a solid, really nice red.

The woman's eyebrows furrowed in thought while she muttered, "That's very... general..." Her eyes then widened suddenly. "Oh." She turned to go back into the office, pausing briefly to glance at Red over her shoulder. She then must have decided that it was okay to let her in (which was really [probably] not within her command), and gestured for Red to follow her inside.

Red now found herself hesitating. If it were her, she would be using this as an opportunity to lay a trap...

Then again, this wasn't her and she was beginning to think less and less of this woman's cunning...

Wary, she followed.

Red wasn't quite sure as to why she had been expecting to see piles upon piles of files and documents scattered everywhere, but of course no office of her impeccable grandmother would be anything but immaculate.

She eyed the room, while the maid grabbed an aerosol can off of a filing cabinet to spray into an already rather filthy rag.

Hm. She really couldn't imagine her grandmother letting this room get anywhere near that dirty...

Then she spotted it.

There, dangling over her a chair near the desk, was her hoodie, vibrant and colored against the all black set.

She might have squealed, snatching the article of clothing up, and would not have denied doing so one bit.

The woman beside her smiled slightly, sheepishly almost, and explained, "I kind of just immediately took it with me in my hurry to clean this room. Which was technically supposed to be done before the guests started arriving." Her hands fumbled with the can and rag, before bowing slightly. "My apologies."

Red nodded along, giddy and not really listening. "Yeah, yeah, I get it." Her eyes flitted up briefly to meet green. "Completely."

The maid sighed in relief and then a smile played across her lips and Red flashed her one in return as thanks for her hoodie.

"If that's all..." the woman started, guiding Red towards the door.

Yes, if that was all...

Oh. Wait. Right.

"Oh, and grandmother doesn't keep anything pertaining to the company in her home, so I'd suggest you stop looking," Red felt she should mention, partly out of gratitude, considering how frantically the woman must have been searching for something not there. She slid her arms through the holes of the hoodie, leaving it unzipped once it rested on her shoulders. "Maybe get out while you can with stuff you've already got smuggled in your dress," she suggested. She'd rather not have this woman under the same roof as her grandmother any longer, but figured it probably wouldn't hurt the old woman to part with a few pieces of jewels, but most definitely not anything relating to her enterprise. She felt this was a rather fair call on her part. After all, thieves often had their own reasons.

Just reasons that did not need to involve her hoodie.

And if Pretty Face were to get caught, oh well. She had been offered an out.

She bid her goodbye to the woman.

Red found herself making her way pass family and towards the door once more with much more hurried steps in hopes that no one would pay her any mind. She turned the knob, this time without any interruptions.

She pulled the door open, and cool, crisp night air smacked her in the face and watered her eyes.

She inhaled deeply. Exhaled. Yawned.

Gently closing the door behind her, Red edged her way to the stairs. Hands slipping into the pockets of her hoodie, she leaned against the railing of the porch.

Then promptly sat up.

She pulled her hand from her pocket, feeling cool metal rested against her palm.

She held a key, which certainly hadn't been in her pockets before.

Boy, Pretty Face was pretty dumb.