Wow! So I'm back to writing. Even though it's been about 10 months, I feel that I've grown in my writing.
[I'm going to ramble, so ignore me if you want to, and move on down the the story!]
Let me just start by saying that Teen Wolf is my personal drug. It's become a sick obsession of mine,(maybe not as crazily overdoing it like others, but pretty close), and when I started watching the show, my mind instantly found points in specific scenes that I could fit my own character in. Thus, Kelsey was born. So I've rattled my brain of a introduction and developing a plot for her since the first day of Sophomore year began for the Beacon Hills gang, and there was endless possibilites; however, when Season 2 began, and we were introduced Issac, Boyd and Erica, I knew then and there I had to start with the second season.
I still wanted to have a lead-in, though, before we hit that point of the story, and that's when I decided to have it begin the day before the dance. Mainly, in this Chapter 1/Prologue, you learn about Kelsey and a bit of her background. Now I'm just going to say that this chapter isn't a usual chapter that most stories start with. I've noticed most began with new students on their first day of school. I wanted to be different.
Anyway, hope you all enjoy this, and please let me know what you think!
The brilliant overhead lights in the small convenient store made it difficult for my eyes to adjust while I strolled inside, changing from the dark of night setting to blinding florescent lighting. I blinked several times, taking in my surroundings. The store was located just down the road from my house. It was quite expedient for my family at times. This particular night I was sent down to pick up a few things, which was written down for me on a notepad.
Snatching one of those untidy, plastic baskets with leftover lint and bits of torn paper, I trudged my way towards the designated aisles containing the items I needed. Package of printer paper for dad, hairspray and laundry detergent for mom, band-aids, AA batteries, and tissues for the house, and-if they had any-decorative clips for pining up my hair for Winter Formal.
I internally sighed and slightly roll my blue eyes, since I really did not want to go to the dance. Repeatedly I was begged by my friends to go, saying things like 'you're going to have a blast' or 'it'll be a memorable night' or even 'sorry that your boyfriend of a year dumped you, but I promise you'll have more fun with your friends' and so on and so fourth.
Yes, my boyfriend did dump me, a few days before Formal was scheduled. The way he asked me was plain, just a simple 'since were dating, I guess I have to take you'. Then, while I coordinated with our coloring-spending long shopping days at the mall for the perfect dress, as well as a tie for him since he had no intention whatsoever to search for one himself-he was contemplating on a way to break up with me without coming off as a complete douche bag. In the end, I was given a proposition, I could either be left dateless with a thirty dollar ticket that was practically pointless by then, or continue to go as his date, and make it the most awkward night of my life.
So, I decided-correction, my mother decided, that I should just go stag. It wouldn't be so bad too. I get to dance with who ever I wanted to, and have the freedom of not having to be stalked by a date who could quite possibly resemble a lost puppy, forcing me to spend the entire night with them. However, there was also the fact that Alex Holden, my notorious ex, would be there, probably with some idiotic 'all-boobs, no brain' girl from another school. Usually, I'm not the jealous type-actually I'm the opposite of that. I find myself to be more sympathetic of the poor girl who gets the sloppy seconds of whichever sadistic bastard I had recently dated. Example being Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore. I have no idea why I dated that hunk of junk, but she receives all of my sympathy, and even a bit of respect for tolerating him as long as she has. That, and she's got him whipped pretty well, which always makes me internally chuckle whenever I see the perky strawberry-blonde overpowering the roid-rager.
As my eyes scanned the shelves for hairspray, I felt my phone beginning to buzz in my pocket. Slipping it out, my eyes barely scanned over the screen to know the only person to ever call me at nine-thirty on a Thursday night would be my best friend. Heavily sighing, I accepted the call, bringing the phone to my ear. The first sound to come out of the electronic device was a wail. A long, loud greeting I occasionally received from this specific dork. "Heeeeeeeeeyyyyy K-k-k-Kelsey!" Rolling my blue eyes, I bit my lip, trying to hide my grin even though he can't even see me.
"What do you want?" I inquired, now placing my phone between my shoulder and ear as I use my free hand to collect the typical hairspray can my mom gets, before dropping it into my basket, and carrying on with my quest.
"Just giving you a heads up." He replied in a casual tone, yet I could tell with the popping of his 'p', I knew he was drunk, or rather getting there.
"For…" I drawled, rounding a corner and entering a new isle to retrieve the printer paper.
There was some shuffling on the other line, and I could hear the low beat of music and chatter off in the background. "Amy and I are coming to get you. So wear something decent and expect us to be in your driveway in exactly thirty minutes. Or else we'll storm the facility called your home and drag you by the ankles while you scream for mercy." This caused my mouth to form a tight line, my eyes falling shut while I pinch the brim of my nose. Yup, he was drunk.
"First, I'm not home at the moment, and second, you know very well that I could, and will, lay your ass out in point two seconds the moment you even attempt to grab me." He snickered on the other end. There was a pause, and I could hear his voice faintly as he muttered something to someone. He returned to the line shortly afterwards.
"Sounds accurate. Look, Hudson decided to have a pre-formal party, and only a few people are here. Just come down after you're home from wherever you're at. Okay?" Once more, my eyes rolled before I shut them.
"Yeah, sure. Fine."
"Great! See yah soon, Crestwik." Click. I groaned lowly, slapping my palm to my head. Great, now on top of my little bit of homework left and this shopping trip, I have to make an appearance to a party. For most people, they would have no problem with this kind of night. Since I'm not most people, I do have a problem, and it's called 'my parents'.
My father is an insurance salesman and my mother owns a boutique downtown. It's quite hard for me to talk with them about school and my social life when I rarely see them. My dad's always out on appointments with either his clients or bosses, and my mother usually opens the shop at eight and closes around nine at night. The thing is though, I know all they want is the best for me and my siblings; having a nice two-story house with a decent sized back yard and a swimming pool. The least I could do in return was be a productive daughter. Get good grades, participate in sports and clubs on campus.
It's hard though when I have to juggle keeping straight A's, being the president of one club and the vice president of another, being in two sports, and also be the oldest sibling at the house. I'm not saying I'm the oldest sibling, just the oldest one at the house.
There are six of us Crestwiks'. The oldest is my sister Cass, who's ten years older than me. Then Tate, who is seven years older, followed by Adam, four years later comes me, three after that is Maudie, and two later is the baby, Brody. So Beacon Hills is pretty well associated with my family. By the time I reached high school, we had a reputation, and let me just say, it isn't a good one.
Cass was average. She maintained straight B's all high school, then fought my parents tooth and nail when she declared that she was not going to college. When they decided she had no choice but to go, she did what she does best when a situation was presented to her. She ran away from it. So we waited for her to come back home, but after a day or so, my parents grew worried and went to search for her. It was when she called Tate and informed him that she had no plans to return home did my parents decide to let her go, and accept that they messed up with their first-born.
Tate, on the other hand, was the good kid. He was the star basketball player of the Beacon Hills Cyclones and co-captain of the swim team. He too maintained decent grades, and was given a full-ride scholarship to USC. Except the summer before college, he got a girl pregnant. Then during his training season before basketball started, he got in a fight with a teammate, resulting in him getting kicked off the team, losing the scholarship. My parents were so furious since they couldn't afford his tuition anymore, they made it clear he wasn't welcomed home, so he moved in with his girlfriend and child. I'll occasionally get calls from him, though. Updates on his life. Other than that he's been cut out of my life.
Adam always was the kid in the family that struggled. He never felt the same attention and affection the others received. He basically fell into the shadows of Cass and Tate, assumed that he was going to disappoint my parents as well. He was different. He was quiet and guarded. I usually would come home to find him locked away in his bedroom blasting music, his little 'hole', as my father would say.
I'm pretty sure I was the only one to catch the small implications that Adam was slowly cracking. He already had pressure weighing down on him to not be another screw up, add that to his inability to be social at school and that he usually was the one to take the blame for whatever mishap occurred at home. Whether it being a vase I broke, or Maudie getting a hold of dad's pipe from his office, Adam was the one assumed to have done it.
Then, on a chilling February day, he snapped. He just couldn't take it anymore.
No one saw it coming. How could they? He never expressed any emotion. I mean, there were times where I was concerned he might be inflicting pain on himself, or possibly drinking his sorrows away, but I never saw a single sign of him desiring to commit suicide. Before I knew it, he was gone.
When I reached freshmen year, all eyes were on me. So, wanting to prove that I wasn't going to let any dubious remarks or assumptions rule over me, I started to get involved. I fluttered around like a little social butterfly, trying to spread myself as an 'all around girl', not wanting anyone to dislike or hate me for whatever reason. Things soon became easy for me. I hopped around from clique to clique, catching up with as many people as I could, trying to maintain an appearance in my friends' lives.
There was only one person who stuck by my side, though. One who knew just about everything and anything about me. One who remained a friend of mine since I was five years old. That person was Nolan Becker, and I swear I have no idea what I would do without him. He was my other half. A twin, really. Our parents knew, since the moment the two of us met, that we were going to become inseparable. Constantly we would get tease and poked at by others, wondering when we were going to start dating or when our wedding date was going to be set. We never let them get in our heads though. Our friendship was so close knit, we never saw each other than strictly platonic best friends.
Grinning to myself, I found my hand reaching out to grab a hold of the last band-aid box when my fingers grazed the hand of another person. Glancing over, I found a boy around my age, with a mop of dirty blonde curls for hair, soft blue-gray eyes, and striking cheekbones. Isaac Lahey towered above me in height, nearing about a foot taller than my five foot four stature. The only few things I knew about him were that he was shy, yet sweet, he played lacrosse with Nolan, and that it was just him and his dad.
I knew Isaac's brother better than I probably knew Isaac, since Camden and Tate were good friends. There were a few times when Tate would bring me over to the Lahey's, forcing Isaac and I to spend time together while the boys threw a party or had some girls over. It was hard coaxing Isaac out of his shell and actually be his friend, but when he did drop his guard, he was a really sweet boy. We always engrossed ourselves in comic books and video games, sometimes having the company of Matt Daehler or Nolan.
"S-sorry." Isaac stuttered out before retracting his hand, which I noticed was shaking a little. Training my eyes back up to his face, I really gazed upon him this time, catching sight of a cut on his cheek, and a faint bruising forming around his eye. I bit the inside of my cheek, curious as to how he got those injuries. "You can have them, Kelsey." He quickly added, before reaching to different box, which were Batman print band-aids.
I reassured him with a warm smile, not wanting him to be so shy whenever he's around me. "Hey, if you want them," I snatched the previous box, which had all different kinds of band-aids: the larger sized, butterfly stitching, normal, small, "take them. I'm sure my siblings would have no problem with Batman and Dora ones." I pushed the box forwards, waiting for him to take it out of my hand. He hesitated, but reluctantly took it, the corner of his lips twitching.
"Thanks." He replied while ducking his head down. He scuffed his worn sneaker on the tiled floor, before glancing back up at me. "I-I guess I'll see you in Chem tomorrow?" I bit my lower lip, nodding. He returned the gesture before stalking past me, a cool breeze following behind him, as I catch a good whiff of his usual smell, cheap cologne and soap. He's my lab partner, so of course I'm going to be able to decipher what he smells like.
Trying to shake off the thought of Isaac's soon-to-be black eye, I continued on with my shopping, getting the last item from my list. For some reason, I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Every possible scenario came into mind of how he could have gotten that fresh bruising. Maybe he tripped and hit his eye on something; I know I've done that before. Or what if he was punched. Had someone been bullying him? Maybe he just got it from lacrosse, except that wouldn't make sense since he's wearing a helmet. Whatever it was that caused his eye to become swollen, I know it definitely hurt like hell.
Once I entered the checkout counter, I had forgotten all about him. My new distraction became the incessant text messages Nolan decided to send me. Wondering when I was coming, if I could possibly let him copy my math homework, where I was at, what's my favorite color, then he started to quote random movies. By this point, I was groaning each time my phone buzzed in my pocket. The cashier quirked a brow, glancing down towards my back pockets. Instead of giving an apologetic look and muttering something about 'stupid friend', I just mimicked his look, tilting my head to the side, quirking a blonde brow, and wearing an expression the reads 'why are you looking at my ass?'. He narrowed his beady brown eyes at me, before punching something into the register, and coming up with my total.
As I was paying, a distant jingling sound could be heard to my right. Glancing over my shoulder, I found Isaac hesitantly gazing at locks. My eyes raked over his figure before drifting down towards the items in his grasp. The band-aids from before and a first aid kit could be found. Furrowing my brows, I pursed my lips, unbelievably curious and slightly worried as to why he had those things.
"Ma'am." Snapping back my attention to the cashier, I found the slender, balding man shoving my credit card towards my direction. Plucking it from his hand, I gave him a forced smile before collecting my plastic bag of things.
Once I exited the door to the store, I saw Isaac's rusted bike placed beside the ice machine. Gnawing on my bottom lip, I contemplated on whether I should offer him a ride. I'm almost positive he lived a bit of a ways from the store, but I had no problem driving across town. If it meant avoiding the party, then by all means I would do it.
From behind me, the automatic doors slid open, and out walked the boy in question. He noticed me hovering by his bike, causing him to balk. "Kelsey. Wh-what's going on?" He asked nervously, attempting to scratch the back of his neck, only to have his plastic bag swing into his face. His cheeks flushed, and his posture slumped in embarrassment. My mouth formed s tight line as I attempted to hide my grin.
"I was just wondering if you wanted a ride. I know that you live kind of far from here." An awkward moment lingered between us, but I quickly added, "I have no problem taking you. We can just put down my backseats to fit your bike." I gestured towards Tate's 1977 red Ford Bronco. The car was definitely classified as 'vintage', but when I got my license over summer break, my dad and I were able to find a better working engine than the car had before. We spent weeks exchanging the old one for the new one, but when it got installed, the car never once faltered and/or failed me.
The lanky boy glanced between his bike and my car, and I could see how doubtful he was about accepting the ride. As if something in the back of his mind continued to nag him that he shouldn't be accepting a generous offer from someone like me. Maybe he was thinking that I felt sympathetic for him. I really hope he wasn't, since I would never do that to a friend.
Finally, his blue eyes moved to mine, and slowly I saw something changing in his gaze. It almost went unnoticed-like if I blinked I probably wouldn't have caught it-but I saw it, and it looked as if his eyes brightened a little. With the brightening came a hesitant smile.
"Um…yeah, a ride would be nice." I could feel my own lips forming a grin.
"Great!" I chirped, twisting around and heading towards my car. Popping open the trunk, I got to work on lowering the seats. When they dropped, I stepped to the side to find Isaac still standing beside his bike. "You know," I chimed in, seeing that he had zoned out. When my voice rang out, his eyes snapped in my direction, "if you wanted the ride, I'm going to need to put your bike in the trunk, and in order to do that, I need the bike."
He ducked his head, and I could hear faintly a chuckle escape his lips. He walked his bike over, and when I reached out to take it, he quickly yanked it away from my grasp. "Don't worry," he softly said, "I can put it in." I nodded, not even bothering to hide my smile. I could tell he was only doing this to seem macho. I mean what man wouldn't feel a slight jab at his masculine side when a girl was doing all the hefty work while he stood on the sidelines.
Once the bike was placed inside, I shut the trunk, about to make my way to the driver's side when Isaac's voice hampered my movement. "You know, without the tiny flags, the large 06 painted on the side, and the tire cover that read 'The Cyclone', I almost wouldn't have recognized this legendary truck." I groaned theatrically, rolling my eyes. For some reason, this response made Isaac timidly step back from me, his servile expression making me realize my mistake. He probably thought I was mad about him finding out the truck's true identity.
"No!" I immediately bellowed as I reacted to his reaction. "No! I just…I was just doing that…well cause Tate drowned this beauty in…well in school pride. The tire cover, the plastered number on the side that symbolized his jersey number as well as his graduating year, and the flags…it's just-it just shouldn't be covered up like that, you know?" A moment of awkward silence flittered between us as I realized what I had said. How could he know when he doesn't even own a car. Smacking my palm against my forehead for the second time this night, I muttered to myself a string of curses. "Look…-I-I-" I sighed, fumbling over my words now. Ducking my head, I shut my eyes behind the curtain of golden curls that covered my face. I took a deep breath before slowly raising my head and leveling my gaze upon Isaac's, who wore an expression of amusement and confusion. "How about this? I'll stop making a fool of myself if you never bring this up again. Deal?"
He remained frozen, though. Only for a beat, before his face broke out into a wide smile, and a bit of a chuckle escaped his mouth. I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, knowing that he didn't think I was a complete nut job. "Yeah, deal." He replied, extending his hand. I reluctantly took it, giving it a quick shake. We stood there in another beat of silence, both of us shifting on the balls of our feet. Finally, after what felt like hours of excruciating awkwardness, did Isaac break the silence. "We should-" He trailed as he jerked his thumb in the direction of the truck.
"Yeah. Yes. We should-we should be going…to your house…because you need a ride." I mumbled the last part, as I found myself once again tacking on more idiotic words than I should be saying. Sighing, I raked a hand through my curly blonde hair, disheveling the neat part down the middle I had before.
I hopped into the driver seat the same time that Isaac scooted into the passenger. I glanced over to him, giving him a soft smile. He returned the gesture, before his blue eyes roamed across the interior of my car. When his eyes landed on the little tornado spring with a suction cup on the bottom that was nestled on the middle of the dashboard, he raised a finger, pointing to it with a quirked brow. My eyelids fell shut, and I let out a low groan.
"I thought you said you got rid of it all?" He inquired, and I could definitely hear the hint of amusement in his tone, sensing he was having way to much fun with finding all of the imperfections.
"I did. This," dramatically, I swatted at the stupid trinket, growling when it didn't even budge from my attack, "was super-glued by my idiot brother."
"Oh."
"Yeah." I started up the car, backing out quickly before I exited from the parking lot and to the main road. "So," I interjected the taciturn atmosphere that roamed between us, "is there any back roads that I can take to your house?"
Isaac's blue eyes shifted towards me, one of his pale hands gripping the handle above the door. His pupils were a little dilated, and I could see his chest moving a bit quicker than usual, indicating his pulse had picked up. "I-I think so. Why?" He asked so innocently, that I couldn't hold back my wide grin at the look of his apprehensiveness.
"Well, Isaac, I guess you get to learn a little something about me that you might not know." I proudly stated. I glanced over to see him gulp, and I chuckled lowly.
"And what's that, Kelsey?" He returned in an absolutely nervous tone.
"I like to go fast." With that, my foot slammed down on the gas pedal, the car revving up as we zoomed down the empty street. All the while I rolled down the windows, laughing out as the cool night breeze hit our faces. I cranked up the radio, letting the melodious sound of "My Body" by Young the Giant blast into our ears.
Isaac remained impassive in his seat, his wide eyes fixated on the road, his stature suggesting that he was restraining himself from going along with this. In his expression, though, I could see he wanted to. He wanted to let go and go along with the ride.
So I tapped his shoulder, offered him a goofy smile, and loudly say over the blaring music and rushing wind, "Sometimes all you need to do in life is let go, and you are more than welcome to do that with me." And so he did. His tenseness dispersed and I could spot how he was giving in. Soon enough, he was smiling as well, his head poking out the window like a dog, and his contagious chuckles and cheers filling me with a warm feeling.
The feeling that I helped someone with breaking out of their shell. That's the one feeling that I strive to get from people, and with Isaac, I could tell he rarely was given this opportunity. I decided to take as many detours as possible, while we blasted the radio, and let our rambunctious teenage sides take over.
Since we are only human, and sometimes the human thing to do is to let yourself go along with the ride.
I said it was different, didn't I? Well, that's the first chapter! I hope I wrote Isaac well, and that you guys like my OC.
I wanted the face-claim for Kelsey to be Skyler Samuels, if anyone was wondering. Also, this story is inspired by the song "Human" by Gabrielle Aplin, and my sequels(if I do get enough responses to keep this going) will most definitely be titles of more of her songs, so expect that.
Um...I guess this is the part where I request reviews, follows and favorites! So do that!
All my love,
Maddy.