For a long time, Lydia's biggest dream was to come back home.
She waited for the moment her dad would enter her room and say "pack your bags, we're leaving." Lydia used to think she would never get used to a big city like New York. Beacon Hills wasn't a boring small town or something like that, but it couldn't be compared to the big apple. When she was dragged away by her parents, she thought she would never stop missing Beacon Hills, and that she would spend every minute of her life thinking about going back to her hometown. Secretly, she swore she would never call her new house a home.
She should have known that time changes everything.
The years passed and the life she had in BH became nothing but her past. The longing she had, that once suffocated her and made her beg to go back, vanished piece by piece, and the space her old friends occupied in her became smaller and smaller. She wasn't the eleven year old Lydia eternally mad at her parents anymore. She got older, and smarter. She changed and accepted her new life without even realizing it.
That's why, after seven years, Lydia wasn't even in the slightest excited to go to Beacon Hills. For the contrary: it was the same nightmare happening all over again. Because of a messy divorce and the involvement of the media, she had to say goodbye to all of her friends, to everything she had built in New York. On top of that, she had to leave on her senior year. Lydia couldn't accept that her parents were making her go through all of that again, but in the inside she knew they were doing what was best for her. On the outside, she was still mad.
At Beacon Hill's small airport, Lydia bit her lip as she waited for her aunt Monica, with whom she would be living with, since her old house had been sold. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag, checked the time on her cell phone, and looked around her. She had been in town for less then two hours and was already counting the minutes to go back home. She was a stranger there. During the seven years she had been gone, she must have vanished from the mind of all of her old friends. Back in New York, she was known and respected by everyone in her school. She had built a reputation and gained her spot on the top of the popularity chain. In Beacon Hills, she was a nobody.
Only one year, Lydia, she told herself. One year.
"Lydia!" she heard her name being called. The girl turned her head and spotted her aunt coming in her direction, smiling widely and waving. She smiled and got up from her seat.
"Hey, aunt Monica" she said, not even close to being as happy as the woman.
"Look at you, all grown up!" Monica hugged her niece with a tight and long embrace, which Lydia tried to reciprocate the best way she could. "Oh, you must be exhausted! And I bet you can't wait to see your new room. Come on, let's go!"
Monica pushed the baggage cart while Lydia dragged her feet behind her. During the ride to the house, the girl looked out at the window, sometimes nodding at the story her aunt was telling. How uninterested can a person look without being noticed?
Lydia was hit by a wave of nostalgia as they drove through the streets of her hometown. Like a movie about her childhood was being played right before her eyes, she couldn't help but smile as she remembered the moments she had spent at the small park where she used to hang out with her friends after school, or the visits to the convenience store where they bought snacks for their movie marathons.
"We're here!" Monica announced, pulling the girl out of her reveries.
They had parked in front of a vintage looking two story house with a small front yard. She helped get her luggage out of the car and drag them into the house. On the inside, it was simple and cozy, with furniture made out of dark wood and walls covered with photographs. They carried the bags upstairs, and Monica gave her niece an excited look before opening one of the doors in the hallway.
"This was the guest room, which I used for storage, hm... a lot of crap, honestly. Most of the things I kept here went straight to the trash. You might have saved me from becoming a horder." She let out a small laugh. "Anyway, I cleaned it up. You can decorate it as you want, it's your room after all."
Lydia nodded, looking around the room. Beside the bed, covered by a purple comforter, a wardrobe, a desk and an office chair, the place was empty. The walls were painted with a boring cream tone, the wooden floor was stained and scratched.
"Thank you, it's perfect," she lied, when in reality she wanted to catch the first flight back to New York, to her spacious closet, to her carefully decorated room. Nothing about the room she was standing in now had anything to do with her, not even the town matched her lifestyle.
Monica smiled, satisfied.
"Ok, I'll let you... Oh, before I forget, you are registered at school, you can start on Monday." Lydia pursed her lips, feeling sick. "I'll let you rest now. If you need anything, just yell, okay?"
The girl nodded again. Monica kissed the top of her hair and left the room, closing the door behind her. As soon as she was alone, Lydia sat on the bed and dropped her head on her hands. She had avoided as much as she could thinking about going back to Beacon Hills High School, over a month after the classes started. Walking in those hallways, meeting people she used to study with as a child...She was not ready for that. Her stomach turned, reacting with a mix of fear and anxiety that she was not used to feel.
Lydia didn't like to be alone. That was why she worked so hard to maintain her popularity: she needed to keep her friends close - even though she shouldn't be calling most of those people that. She enjoyed the distractions that came from an audience, the only way to ignore the blank space left by her always so busy parents. In Beacon Hills, she had no friends. The ones she used to have may not recognize her. Maybe they didn't even remember her, or maybe they didn't want her back. That year could do wrong in so many ways that Lydia held her breath just thinking about it.
The redhead laid down and put the pillow over her head. It was Tuesday, so she had a few days to prepare herself to go back to school. Or maybe to come up with a plan to go back home.
Xxxx
"Stiles, slow down," Allison said, watching horrified as his friends stuffed his face with french fries.
"Sorry, I'm starving," he replied with his mouth full. "And this shit is so good."
"It's not that good, it's just your hunger," Malia pitched in, sliding the tray away from her boyfriend. Stiles protested, but she gave him her can of soda. "Chew first."
The boy made a face to his girlfriend, putting the straw between his lips. Malia just smiled sweetly and elbowed him. Scott walked over to the table they were in and sat beside Allison with eyes wide and an incredulous smile on his lips.
"What is it?" Allison asked, looking at him with worry.
"I just spoke with my mom on the phone," he said. "You will not believe what she told me."
"We have no reason to doubt your mom, Scott," Stiles commented.
"It's an expression, you... Ah, whatever." He chose to ignore his friend. "Lydia is back."
Caught by surprise, Stiles spit out a mouth full of soda directly into Scott's face, who unfortunately sat in front of him.
"Thanks, dude," he said, wiping the liquid away from his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Lydia... Martin?" Allison asked, coughing, had almost choked. "Our Lydia?"
"Who's Lydia?" Malia asked.
"Yes. My mom works with her aunt at the hospital, remember? She told me Lydia is going to spend the year here in Beacon Hills."
Allison leaned back on her chair, smiling.
"That's just... uau."
"Right? I thought she would never come back," Scott agreed, smiling too. "How long it's been, five years?"
"Seven." She looked around the cafeteria, looking for the strawberry blonde girl. "She's not here today, is she?"
"No, she'll be back on Monday."
"Who's Lydia?" Malia asked again, louder this time.
"She was... She is a friend of ours who moved to New York," Allison answered, feeling excited. "I can't believe she's coming back, I've missed her."
"Me too," Scott said. "Remember those crazy movie marathons we used to do at her house?"
Allison laughed.
"Yeah. Stiles always did us the favor to eat everything. Remember, Stiles?"
The boy was obviously not paying any attention to the conversation. He stared at the table with a slightly panicked expression on his face. He lifted his head when he noticed that everyone at the table had their eyes on him.
"Hm, what?" He blinked.
"Are you ok?" Malia asked, placing one hand on his arm.
"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine," he answered quickly. "I'm just surprised, that's all."
"Okay..." Malia eyed him suspiciously.
"I ahn... I gotta go to the bathroom. See you guys in class." Without waiting for an answer, he got up and left the cafeteria.
With large steps, Stiles bolted to the men's bathroom. He stood in front of one of the sinks and splashed some cold water on his face, to pull himself together. When he lifted his eyes to the mirror, he saw that the chocked expression was still there, displayed all over his face. Of course it was; that was the day he had given up waiting for. He had said goodbye to Lydia Martin. He had accepted that she would only be part of his memory, not of his life. He had gotten over her, healed himself, moved on. Now there she was, threatening to dig up everything he had taken months, years to bury. Promising to make him feel everything he loved and hated.
Stiles feared he wasn't strong enough to stop her. Because she didn't even have to do anything; just the fact that she would be there could screw everything up. Big time.
"Holy shit," he whispered to himself.
