Okay so new Teen Wolf story - Honestly have no idea how to feel about this, but I know where I want this story to go and it's going to be awesome (I hope) - so please bare with me as I get it going!

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Be- With a groan I slammed my hand down onto my alarm, rolling over and shrieking into my pillow. I hated my alarm. Because my alarm meant it was early. And early meant school. And lets be honest; no one likes school on a good day. But when it's your first day at a new school? It's even worse. However I, Madeleine Jackson, wasn't one to back down from a challenge, instead pushing myself to my feet and stumbling to the pile of boxes in the corner of my room, rummaging through them until I found a dress I liked, clumsily pulling on my combat boots and roughly pushing open my bedroom door.

Drinking orange juice straight from the cartoon I eyed my reflection in the oven hood, grimacing at the wild mess my hair dark red currently resembled. Unfortunately for me, I didn't know which box my hair brush was in, and I was already running late, so a quick run through with my fingers in an attempt to tame it would have to suffice. I usually left the house without much thought to my appearance; it used to always annoy my mum. She wanted her daughter, with her 'beautiful brown hair' and 'shining blue eyes', to wear makeup and pretty clothes. Therefore, in spite of her, I usually pull on the first thing I find, wear next to no makeup to cover up the splash of freckles across my nose, and died my hair to a very unnatural red from that brown she loved ever so.

Moving to the lounge to grab my bag, my heart stopped as I saw a lifeless figure on the couch.

"Mum?" I approached the couch, worry engulfing me when there was no response. Then the stench of alcohol hit me, and the worry turned to anger. Of course she was still drinking, and was once again in one of her stupid, drunken, passed-out states. Defeated, I pulled a blanket from the floor I lay it over her, before swinging my bag over my shoulder and slamming the front door behind me. Beginning the slow trek to my new school, I placed one foot in front of the other, willing myself to keep moving forward.

People. There were people everywhere. I clutched a timetable in my left hand, the schedule becoming a jumble of numbers and letters, impossible to understand without knowledge of the layout and working of the school. Which I didn't have. So insteadI slowed to a stop beside a girl who looked to be my age, with short browny-blonde hair, which I was decidedly very envious of, and soft brown eyes. She looked friendly, and I could use friendly right now.

"Um, excuse me?" She spun around, a surprised look on her face. "I'm new here, and I was wondering if you knew where AP English was?"

"Yes." Her single word response left me looking at her confused, my confusion furthering more as she turned away to continue her conversation with the person beside her.

Lucky for me, that person noticed, placing his hands on her shoulders and spinning her around to face me again, stepping forward to stand beside her.

"Malia, she asked if you knew where the class was," he explained, and the girl, Malia, nodded in agreeance.

"I know."

"Okay, well, that generally means she wants you to show her. Because she doesn't know where it is." There was a slight pause and then realisation crossed Malia's face.

"Oh. Sorry." The last bit was directed at me, and I half smiled, half grimaced back at her.

"We're working on it," the boy vaguely explained, before holding out his hand with a grin. "I'm Stiles."

"Madds," I replied, only glancing at his hand and choosing not to take it.

"Generally if someone holds out their hand, you're meant to shake it. You guys really suck with manners," Stiles chuckled. "I'm not an alcoholic or serial killer or druggie," he went on and I frowned. "I'm safe to touch." He held up his hands in defence

"I don't think I want to touch you thanks." My tone was sour As much as I despised her, I was still protective of my mum, and any mention of alcoholics or excessive drinking got me worked up.

"Yeah, well, apparently you're not someone I want to spend my time with anyway." He placed his arm around Malia's shoulders, clearly annoyed. "See you around maybe." I should tell you, I get provoked easily. I was already in a horrible mood when I left the house, and this just made it worse. I got in trounle with the law. A lot. And it seemed like today wasn't an exception.

As they moved away I sneaked out my hand, reaching into the pocket of his bag in which I had previously been eyeing the lump which resembled that of keys, and I wasn't disappointed, moving away with a set of car keys clutched tightly in my fist. Following the sound of the unlocking beeping to a blue jeep, I jumped in without a second thought, happiness flowing through me as I watched Stiles and Malia walk down the front steps, where they joined up with a few more people. Starting the engine, I headed off in their direction.

I slowed to a crawl as I came up next to Malia and Stiles, hitting the wheel with more force than necessary and grinning as the sound of the horn made both of them jump five feet in the air. It took barely a second for realisation to cross Stiles' face, a look which quickly morphed into one of horror and then anger.

"Hey! No, no, that's my car! What are you -?" He began to fumble in his bag, and upon coming up empty, began to run towards me, but by that time I was already driving away, winking at Malia as I left them in my wake.

My adrenaline levels were high as I sped down the highway, trees lining both sides. I was way above the speed limit, but also way past caring. Since my mum had started drinking, I had stopped caring. Why should I care when there's no one to care about me. These little escapades were my escape, my happy time, my time to relax and be free. So I decided to enjoy myself, moving to turn the radio on full blast, only to receive static in return, my mood deflating almost immediately. Joy rides were almost pointless without loud music to accompany your dancing rebellion down an open road.

My mood was further deflated as the sound of sirens pulled me out of my rush, my eyes darting to the rear vision mirror to see a cop car not far behind, and a disgruntled looking officer in the front seat.

"Shit." Swearing, I slammed on the breaks, coming to an abrupt stop on the side of the road, the sweet sound of the officer swerving to avoid my sudden stopping bringing a small smile to my face. I sunk back in my seat and waited for the cop in front of me to come to my window.

"Stiles, how many times do we have to have this conversation about you –" He stuttered as he finally got a look at me. "You're not my son." I felt my insides sink as I realised my mistake.

"Stiles is your son…" I stated slowly and he nodded, his forehead creasing first in confusion, and then annoyance. "Shit."

"Yes. How about you get out of my son's car and come with me young lady, and on the way to the station, we can have a conversation about how it is quite illegal to steal a vehicle." With a sullen face I slid out of the front seat. I knew the drill, but it didn't stop me from trying to backtrack.

"Oh, steal? I didn't steal. I just borrowed, momentarily. With every intention of giving it back. I was just teaching him a lesson." He chose to ignore me, instead asking me a question.

"What's your name?"
"Madeleine Jackson, juvenile delinquent at your service, Sir." I saluted him as he tried to push me into the back of his car, smiling sweetly at him as I relaxed into the rather uncomfortable seats. He looked rather unimpressed.

"Well Miss Jackson, I'm Sheriff Stilinski. And you're in big trouble."

"Are these really necessary?" A wince went through me as cold metal cuffs were snapped around my wrist. As the Sheriff began to tighten them, the pain got worse. "Okay, they're definitely not coming off, you can stop now." Apparently my input wasn't worth much, because he sighed at me, before gently pushing me forward towards the entrance.

"Look, you're young, and I'm sure you are a nice girl, but I'm the Sheriff and I can't ignore when someone breaks the law, especially when it involves stealing my son's car." He explained. I could feel my cheeks heating up as I realised most of the offices in the department were staring at me with cuffs around my wrists. Not the best first impression, or at least not the ones I usually made. My past first impressions on the local police department have included placing whoopee cushions on every seat in the office and letting a box full of chickens loose in another. Mind you, they were some of my tamer first impressions, but this was definitely the first time I had been dragged into a station with cuffs disabling the movement of my hands. And I didn't like it at all. I tried half-heartedly tried reasoning back with him.

"And I understand you're probably a busy Sheriff, and don't need some 'nice girl' taking up your time, so if you'll kindly let me go –"

"Madeleine?" A voice interrupted my reasoning and I spun around, almost fast enough to give myself whiplash, shock rippling through my body at recognition of the voice.

"Jordan? Seriously?" My voice was a shriek as I eyed the man walking at a fast pace towards me. He was fair skinned, with brown hair and green eyes, and the most annoyed and frustrated look on his face. And messing everything up like usual.

"You know this one?" I heard the Sheriff ask from behind me, as I continued to try and pull out of his grasp. The man in front of me nodded in response, seemingly too shocked to reply.

"Cat got your tongue?" I teased, watching his eyes narrow in return.

"You be quiet," the Sheriff instructed, an instruction I pointedly chose to ignore. "Do you know her, Deputy Parrish?" He repeated his question.

"Yes, I know her," the Deputy responded. "She's my little sister."

Let me know what you think :) Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow, which should hopefully explain some more things! x