Raindrops hit the window in the afternoon sky, and stream back until they wither away to nothing. Like I've always done as a child, I pick one and pretend they're racing, and root for my raindrop to win. It's something stupid I do to realize how dumb it is and cheer myself up, but it's not working like it usually does. I really don't know what could cheer me up right now.

I don't want to be here. I want to go home. Apparently, that's where I'm going, but this place isn't home. It never will be.

"There's your new school." Dad points out the window at Beacon Hills High, lit by orange lamps lining the sidewalk.

I ignore him, still unbelievably angry with him for making this decision for me. For us.

"Danielle- you up?"

I obnoxiously pull out my earphones to show I'm trying to listen to music. "You say something?"

"Yeah," He says, slightly annoyed, "We just passed by Beacon Hills High. Looks like a pretty nice school."

"Sure, Dad."

We sit there in silence, the only sounds of the raindrops hitting the car and the radio dim in the background.

"Look, Danielle," He begins, sighing. Oh god, I can feel a deep conversation coming on.

"I know you didn't want this. Trust me, it was a difficult decision for me too. But this was necessary." He reaches over and pats my shoulder. I shake his hand off, still looking out the window. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this home for us. Trust me, this will be good."

I roll my eyes and reply monotonously, "Sure, Dad."

We don't talk the rest of the way. Thankfully, it's not long before we arrive to our destination, because it was beginning to get terribly awkward.

We pull up to a white, three-story house with a big yard and picket fence. We roll up in the moving van and stop in the driveway, the squeaky brakes announcing our arrival.

Dad gets out and takes a deep breath, looking proudly at the house.

"It's not too old, you know." He mentions through the open door. "Wanna take a look around?"

I reluctantly open my door and slide out onto the wet driveway, glad I decided to wear combat boots. The house is big, and light-colored. I look at the front of it, with its petunias and daisies perfectly planted in a perfect little flower bed.

Great. A cookie-cutter, picket-fence home. Literally.

I tighten the strings of my hoodie to conceal me from the cold post-storm breeze. Instead of going into the house, I begin to walk around it.

"Where 'ya goin?" Dad asks.

"You told me to take a look around." I comment over my shoulder.

I'll admit, the vast backyard is comforting. Its trim grass covers the ground like a blanket all the way back to a wall of thick trees. Cool.

It's almost like Jersey-like home.

It takes me a while to get to the trees, and when I do, I come across a sign that says, "Beacon Hills Forest: NO TRESPASSING".

Meh.

I keep walking past the sign into the dense forest of trees. I look up at the sky- or what's left of it- to see that the lush trees almost completely conceal view of the sky; I kinda like it here.

I walk for a few minutes, putting my headphones back in my ears, drowning the sound out to Paramore.

Then I come across a clearing and walk faster to see something, well, particularly eerie. A massive, destroyed house sits alone in the clearing. The trees don't protect this house- the ones surrounding it are charred, and half of its upstairs floor is missing. It looks as if a breeze were strong enough, it would blow it right over. It sends a shiver down my spine.

Then, something taps my shoulder, making me jump, dropping my ipod, and ripping the headphones from my ear. I turn around to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair.

"Well?!" He asks.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.

His angry green eyes look down upon me. "I said, what are you doing here?!"

"I-" I stutter, "I was just-"

"Trespassing." He interrupts me. He bends down and picks up my ipod and hands it to me.

"Thanks." I say stupidly. "Sorry, I was just… escaping. For a moment."

He doesn't respond. Instead, he crosses his arms.

"I'm just… gonna go." I turn around and begin walking back to where I came from. "Thanks for scaring the shit outta me." I mumble under my breath when he can't hear.

"Good." He replies from far back. Crap, how'd he hear me?

Dad's getting some help back at the truck with moving things. A woman and a guy who looks to be about my age lift a dresser through the door.

"Who're they?" I ask Dad when I get back.

"Oh, Hey Melissa!" He calls through the door. "Danielle's back!"

A woman dressed in hospital scrubs walks through the door with the young man behind her.

"Danielle, this is Melissa and her son Scott. They're our new neighbors."

She smiles at me and offers her hand. "Hi, I'm Melissa. Melissa McCall. Don't mind my clothes, I just got off my shift at the hospital." She laughs.

I manage a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Scott." The boy shakes my hand. "Are you gonna be going to Beacon?"

"She sure is!" My Dad says proudly, putting an arm around me. I grimace.

"That's the plan." I add.

"Well if you need a ride, I have a bike if you don't have a car yet." Scott offers.

My Dad's expression changes. "Woah Woah, I don't know about a motorcycle."

"Sure, thanks Scott!" I say optimistically to Scott before giving my father a fake smile.

Dad rolls his eyes. "Alright. Let's finish unpacking."

We finish quickly- unloading, at least. Apparently Dad bought a bunch of new furniture to fill the house as we didn't bring much.

"Hey, I've got plenty of spaghetti to go around, do you two want to join us for dinner? After all of that traveling, you must want a home-cooked meal." Melissa says.

"Yeah, sure that sounds great." Dad says, smiling. "It'll give the kids a chance to talk about the school."

Scott smiles friendly at me, but I can tell it's fake. Eh, I'll ask later.

Their house has that warm and cozy feeling about it- that kind you imagine spending Christmas in. In fact, their Christmas tree is still up.

"I know it's been a week, but the hospital's been super busy these last few weeks. It must be the holidays, you know." Melissa explains as she sets the table. "So, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a cop." Dad says.

"Really? Just like Stiles' father!"

"Who's Stiles?" I ask.

"He'll show up soon, eventually. He kinda just pops in." Melissa says. "Scott, why don't you show Danielle around?"

"Yeah, sure." He says, leading me. Their house is much like ours, I'd assume, but theirs seems more like a home.

"This is Isaac's room." He says outside of a room with music blasted inside. He pounds on the door. "Isaac, open up! We've got company!"

The music goes down and someone comes to the door.

Isaac is tall, slender, and has brown curly hair and a face you wouldn't forget. He forges a smile. "Who's this?"

"This is Danielle. She just moved in next door." Scott introduces us.

Isaac holds out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Uh- Mom's almost ready with dinner, I'm showing her around."

"Oh okay, I'll join you."

Scott leads us down the hall to an open door. "This is my room."

It's in shades of blue, and has a cool tone to it. His trashcan is overflowing with crumpled up sheets of paper.

"You must be a musician." I figure.

He scruffs his hair. "Yeah, sort of. It's a good way to deal."

"With what? I mean, if you don't mind me asking. I don't mean to pry."

Isaac looks at Scott, then back to the ground. He crosses his arms and leans dejectedly against a wall.

"No, it's fine, we just… um…." He clears his voice, searching for words. "We… recently lost someone very important to us. Her name was Allison. Argent."

I can tell it's very painful for him to talk about. I don't ask more, but he goes on.

"It was at night, a gang or something, and it…." Scott drifts off.

"It all happened so fast." Isaac mumbles.

"I'm sorry for your loss." I say, even though I know what I say can't even encompass what they're feeling.

Suddenly, a head pops up in the window.

"Hey guys!" They say. He climbs in and brushes himself off. Then he sees me. "Oh, hey- who are you?"

"I'm Danielle. I just moved in next door."

"Well hey, I'm Stiles. Nice to meet 'ya. You goin' to Beacon tomorrow?"

I nod, actually pleasant this time, pleasant that I actually know three people already.

"Well cool! You'll like it."

"I sure hope so." I say blandly.

"So what about you?" Scott says. "Why'd you move to Beacon?"

My heart sinks again in memory. "Oh. Well, something happened back home with my parents, so we needed to leave. 'Start over', as my Dad puts it."

"You don't look like you're too happy about that." Isaac says.

I shrug. "To be completely honest, I'm not. I think moving was a mistake- no offence- but moving didn't solve any problems- it was running away."

"Beacon isn't home." Scott figures.

I shake my head. "No- it's not."

Stiles puts his arm around me and shakes me jokingly. "Well, we'll make it home!"

I smile, actually genuinely this time, and follow them downstairs for dinner.

They ended up being some pretty cool people- maybe it won't be terrible here. I have a getaway (as long as I avoid that creepy guy in the forest), and even a few friends. But when we return home, the loneliness hits me again. It's cold here, and roomy. Nothing is set up and the walls are blank. I haven't even bothered with my bed yet- I push the mattress over and throw a few blankets over it with a pillow. It's even hard to fall asleep with all the noise outside. Right when I'm about to fall asleep, a wolf howls, jolting me awake.

This is going to be a long night.

The next morning, the rain's dried, and it's a bit warmer. The sun even shines a bit. I'm up much too early, but I don't care. I use the time to get ready.

Scott pulls up around seven and I get on the back of his bike. It's a bit weird wrapping my arms around his torso when I don't even know him. But he's surprisingly muscular and warm, and we're at the school in no time.

The kids of Beacon Hills fill the parking lot with their California cars- convertibles, smart cars, cruisers, and jeeps. Even Stiles has a blue jeep. He hops out, pulling on a jean jacket, and jogging over.

"What do you have?"

I look down at my schedule. "Gov, Spanish, Lit, and Pre-Cal."

"Hey, you're in my Pre-Cal class!" Stiles says. "It's after lunch, I can walk you if you want."

"Sure. Any other classes?"

Isaac appears behind us. "You're taking Spanish?"

"Yeah, I haven't fulfilled the requirements yet." I explain. "It's all they offered in Jersey, so…."

"That sucks." He says. "Here, most people take French. Or German."

"Yeah, the Spanish class is really small." Stiles comments.

"But I'm in your Gov Class." Isaac says optimistically. "Wanna go now?"

I nod and follow Isaac through the crowded parking lot to the hallway. He shows me my locker and a girl next to me who's dressed fashionably notices us.

"Isaac, who's this?" She asks.

"Danielle. She's new."

She smiles, flipping her hair. "I'm Lydia. And I like your shoes."

I look down at my studded boots. "Thanks, they're my favorite."

She looks to Isaac. "Is she-"

Isaac hushes her urgently.

"Oh." She mouths. "Well, see ya at lunch!"

"Bye." I say as Isaac drags me back down the hallway. "What was that about?"

"Um…" Isaac flushes. "She was gonna ask if… Here we are." He stops in front of a classroom and leads me in.

The room has an open feeling, as one of the walls is almost completely windows, opening to the grassy lunch quad Isaac pointed out earlier. The bell rings.

"Good morning class, I trust you all had a great break and 'turned up', or whatever it is the youth does." He looks at his roster as some students giggle. "Oh- we have a new student."

Please no.

"Danielle Pernell… hey that rhymes! Where are 'ya Danielle?"

I sheepishly raise my hand and then drop it, hoping not to attract attention.

"Ah, why don't you come introduce yourself to the class, Danielle?"

"I'd rather not." I mumble.

"Oh, come on!" He encourages. "In this class we have debates, and opening up is an important part of building the confidence to speak up and take part in the lesson. I insist- come on." He motions me up.

I stand but don't walk to the front of the class. "I'm-"

"You're gonna have to speak a bit louder, dear."

I clear my voice. "I'm Danielle. I moved from New Jersey."

"And, why don't you tell us a fun fact about yourself, Danielle?"

"I…" I stutter. "I… have… a face…"

Some kids laugh as I sit back down awkwardly. Even Isaac stifles a laugh. I hit him in the shoulder.

"Wow… fascinating. Never would've guessed. Well as you all know, I am Mr. Yukimura, for those of you who have transferred, and to start up bright and early and clear those groggy minds of yours, we're going to start with a pop quiz!"

The class groans as he passes them out, and when it gets to me, I'm surprised. It's unbelievably easy. I already learned all of this.

But wait- it gets worse.

Once we all finish, Mr. Yukimura runs them through a scanner . Then he picks the results up. "Wow, look at this! Danielle Pernell scored the highest score on this quiz! Great job Danielle!"

Everyone looks at me and I bury my head in my hands.

Spanish is the exact opposite. Everyone in here can speak fluently- FLUENTLY.

"Excuse me." I speak up.

"No ingles." The teacher says, annoyed.

"Yeah, well I can barely do English, let alone Spanish. What level is this again?"

The teacher sighs and removes his glasses. "AP."

"AP?! Yeah, I'm definitely in the wrong class."

"Well you're more than welcome to take that up with the office if you feel that's in error."

"Thank you." I say, standing up.

I get out to the hallway and realize I have no idea where I'm going. I wander around for a while until I see a janitor and he directs me where to go.

The lady at the front desk doesn't seem to get it.

"No- I signed up for college prep. AP is way too much for me. I don't even think this is the right unit." I explain.

"Oh, I understand. But we don't offer college prep. You see, we have very few students taking Spanish, so there's only two classes."

"So, can I transfer?"

"The only other class is first year. You've already taken that class. And if you switch to another language, your requirement won't be fulfilled. The two years must be consecutively the same language."

"There is absolutely no way I can take AP Spanish."

She shakes her head. "I'm afraid this is your only choice. Sorry, dear."

"I'm totally screwed!" I complain at lunch. "AP? AP?! A-friggin-P?!"

"AP." Isaac clarifies. I roll my eyes at him.

"So take another language. Take French." Scott says. "I'm in French, I can help you catch up."

"I can't. The years have to be consecutive."

Stiles' eyes widen. "Woah, that sucks."

"No kidding." I open my water.

Just then, Lydia walks up with two other girls.

"Oh, Danielle, this is Malia and Kira."

I recognize Kira from my Gov class.

Kira makes a face of distress. "Sorry about my Dad, he is SO embarrassing…."

"It's fine, I don't mind." I lie.

She studies my face carefully. "Yeah, you do. Don't worry- I'll say something."

"You really don't have to-"

"But I do. I used to be the one being embarrassed by him. I know how it feels." She laughs.

"Wow, thanks."

She smiles and begins to unwrap a sandwich.

Malia stares at me from the other end of the table as Lydia whispers something in her ear.

"So, what do you guys do after school?" I ask generally.

"Lacrosse, mostly. With Stiles and Isaac." Scott says.

"We're going shopping today." Lydia says. "Want to come?"

"I actually have some unpacking to do." I say disappointingly.

"Well why don't you come with us for a few hours and we'll help?" She suggests.

"Sure. Thanks, that'd be great."

After school, we get into Lydia's car and go to the mall, about 15 minutes from school. It started raining again. We run inside, sheltering ourselves from the rain.

"I have a question, if you don't mind." I say when we're safely inside.

"Shoot." Lydia says while reapplying her lipstick.

"Scott mentioned something about an 'Allison'."

Lydia freezes for a moment, her face falling. She puts away her lipstick and takes a deep breath. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, you knew her? I'm sorry, I didn't want to-"

"She died." Malia says abruptly. "She got stabbed by an O-"

Lydia elbows her and shakes her head. A look of recognition crosses Malia's face.

"Really, you can ask. I was her best friend." Lydia says.

"I really don't want to pry."

"Yes, but you're in our friend group now. You should be in-the-know."

"Alright… did she come between Isaac and Scott? I mean, they were both tense about it when Scott told me about her."

"They both dated her. They both cared about her. They…"

I wait patiently.

"They both watched her die."

"That's awful." I whisper.
She nods. "She was truly a great friend. Probably the best I've ever had. But it's better she's not in harm's way with everything that's been going on lately. I miss her, but…" She shrugs.

"What do you mean, 'everything that's been going on lately'?" I ask, confused.

"Oh…" She realizes something. "Nothing you need to worry about. I'd hate to burden you with- ooh look, there's a sale!" She pulls me into Victoria's Secret.

I can't help but feel like I'm missing something. It must be need-to-know.

I sift through bins of underwear aimlessly- I'm not really in the shopping mood- when Malia wanders over to the bin I'm at with a lacey getup in her hand

"That's cute." I comment.

She shrugs. "Lace isn't really my thing. But I think Stiles will like it."

I raise my brows. "You and Stiles?"

She smiles, and it's the first time I've seen her smile. "Yeah."

We say no more as she blushes.

Even though I'm not much of a shopper, I actually have a good time with them. They even help me set up my bed when I get home.

Dad comes home around nine and I introduce them to the girls. Turns out, he got a job at the sheriff station with Sheriff Stilinski. Malia perks up at Stiles' mention.

"Yeah, his son was helpful." I say to him after the girls leave. "Scott too, and so was Isaac."

"Who's Isaac?"

"He lives with Scott. I don't know where he was yesterday."

Frankly, I don't ever know where anyone is. But hey, need-to-know.