I'm trying my hand at another story, this one has been bouncing around in my head for a while, if you guys like it I'll continue it. Hope you enjoy it!
Every good story has to have a curse in it, that's just the way of the world, its what makes good literature. And I wish I could say that my curse was something extraordinary, something that told the world that I was a person about to do something great. But in reality, this curse was nothing more than a mystery. The only real reason I figured that I was cursed was because, who else had a literal rose vine growing out of them? The vine starts at my right ankle, on the inside. And it slowly makes its way up, if a person sees it at a glance they would think I spent a small fortune on it, but if they got closer they would see that it wasn't a tattoo. Not that I would ever let anyone see it. The vine is thick, on my skin it looks like any other tattoo, but it doesn't just stay on my skin. From my shin to my knee the vine escapes the confines of my skin, and wraps tightly around my leg, not unlike a thorned snake, into my flesh and travel farther up. It hugs my body, escaping at uneven intervals, and diving back seamlessly. This vine, this curse, it grows with me. As I age, blooms come, so far there are sixteen roses, all in different stages of blooming. The vine has almost reached my left shoulder, and I'm scared that it will go to my head. Only it wont be the tattoo impersonation, it will be the actual vine. And then people will begin to notice, and when they notice, I know I will be done for. Its the twenty first century, there is no such thing as magic, everything can be explained through science and medicine, be it a genetic mutation or otherwise. But I know this cant be explained, I've done my research.
And it's not that I'm not happy where I am, because I am, I just…I don't know how to explain it. Anyway, it's not like anyone will be reading this, and if you are, I'm either where I belong or in a looney bin or still lost. But hey, you might figure this out for me…so here it goes.
My name is Stiles, I live in Beacon Hill's California and my best friend is dating a girl who's grandfather tried to kill me. Oh, and my best friend is a werewolf and his girlfriend comes from a long line of hunters. Isn't that just dandy? My friend, Scott, doesn't know about my curse, but that's probably because I've only ever worn pants around him, and he's not exactly seen me change clothing, considering I'm a girl and that's a big no-no. And yes, I know Stile's is a weird name for a girl, but hey, I'm a curse person living in a town of werewolves in the twenty-first century, don't judge.
Anyway, today has gone like any other….
"Stiles, time to get ready." My dad calls from down the stairs, his voice is harder to hear than usual. More than likely he was putting a jacket on and was facing away.
"I'm up." I yell in response, because I am, like always. It's rare for me to sleep in, to sleep in general. But he doesn't know that, and like any good dad he tries to make sure I'm not late for school, as he walks out the door.
My dad is the Sheriff, and he's damn good at his job. But because of it I don't get to see him as often as I'd like, but that's ok too. Because it's gotten awkward between us, my dad doesn't know about my curse, or at least I don't think he does. He's never mentioned it, and he doesn't ask why I wear baggy jeans and long sleeves all the time, even when its roasting outside. So maybe he does know, but I'm not going to ask him, that would just be weird. "Hey dad, do you know why I have a curse of thorns and roses? Did you and mom happen to steal me by any chance? Do I have any magical powers or a fairy god mother?" Yea, like that would blow over well. I'm going to do the un-Stiles thing and keep my mouth closed this time. Better for both of us.
I look into the mirror, and I sigh, the girly part of me does want to be dressed up. To show my curves, what little I have, to at least make one guy's head turn at school and not because I'm running my mouth a mile a minute.
I shake my head to clear all the unwanted thoughts and smile, at least I look like my mom when I smile. With that, I get to work, dressing for the day. Off with my too big sweat pants, and on comes official army pants, desert camo. I have to be careful of the vines on my shin, they love to catch and make small holes in my clothes, so the baggier the better. My cookie monster t-shirt is slipped off and on comes the sports bra, then a tank-top, then a black t-shirt. Over the t-shirt comes a recent present, courtesy of my dad an Avengers Letterman jacket, my favorite red one was lost in a recent scuffle with a few werewolves, not that I told my dad that. So he bought me another jacket, to make up for it, and maybe to say that he was sorry he's been working all the time. Either way it was sweet of him.
Colorful socks came next, then Dr Who themed converse, and I was complete. I did another check in the mirror, just to make sure nothing was showing, and let out a small sigh. Soon I would have to begin to wear something to cover my neck, maybe I should look into scarves, because I really didn't want to buy turtle-necks, I hated them with a passion. My hair was short and curly, a dirty blond-brown with a touch of red. I honestly have no idea what you would call it, a dirty strawberry? Ew, no thanks.
I glanced at my ever present watch on my wrist and smiled, I was still ok on time. Not great, but I've made it with seconds to spare before. Grabbing my backpack by my bedroom door, I clomped down the stairs, knowing that dad would be rolling his eyes if he were still home. I tended to make more noise in the morning, than an average house of five, or so he says.
Into the kitchen, and with an pear in my mouth, I double check the fridge, to see if he left me a note. And lo-and-behold there was one. It was the usual, 'I'm going to work late tonight, you're free to have Scott over. And we are low on ginger ale.' I pull it off the fridge, stuff it into one of my many pockets and munch on my pear. Wiping the excess juice from my mouth, I glance at the kitchen clock, time to go. Grabbing the keys from the countertop, I turn off the lights and make sure everything is locked up tight. Then I double check to make sure dad hasn't found my wolf repellant bags under the table by the door, nope, good thing too. I had monkswood stashed all around the house, I had one too many unexpected visitors and I wasn't going to be surprised again. IF they wanted in, they would have a nasty allergic reaction. Only down side was if I wanted Scott to come home with me, I had to move the monkswood around so it would affect him. Then again, he's been so wrapped up with Allison lately, it didn't matter.
Not that I'm bitter or anything, nope, not me. Locking the front door, I quickly make my way to my beloved Jeep. Toss my bag in and start the engine, a pouch of monkswood swung from my review mirror merrily. I didn't want any furry surprises in my jeep either, so sue me. I turned on the radio, only to groan when the people began talking, I swear, they talk more than me! And they get paid for it! That's just not fair, I hit the CD button and waited a few moments, praying that it decided to work for me, and thankfully it did. Though it decided to skip the into GaGa's Bad Romance, but that was ok with me. Anything was better than listening to those people talk like they understood teenagers, I don't even understand teenagers and I am one!
The drive to school was pleasantly uneventful, I parked, walked in, and even went through a few of my classes without anything happening. It was a miracle! But of course, my miracles had strings attached, because right before lunch I was called into the principal's office. And for once I honestly didn't do anything, my grades were good, I hadn't back talked to any of the teachers and I didn't have any tardies. So he probably wanted to see if I knew anything about Scott and the furry problem invading Beacon Hills…wonderful.
"Yes," I asked as I entered, hands deep in my pockets.
"Ah, Stiles, thanks for coming so quickly. I just have a few questions to ask you, then you're free to go, please, close the door and get comfortable." Principal Argent said, he leaned back in his chair and did the thing with his hands, the, I'm an innocent old man-principal steeple under the chin move.
I closed the door, but didn't let it latch, one less obstacle if I had to run. I sat on the edge of a chair, and for once I didn't have to act like a confused innocent student, because I had no idea why he wanted me in there.
"I….I wanted to ask you some personal questions."
I looked at him, he didn't seem to be in a bad mood, but his sentence put me on edge. "What do you mean?"
"Can you tell me anything about your mother?" He asked softly, one eyebrow raising.
I tensed, ice started to pool in my stomach, I never talked about my mother. Not with Scott, not with Dad and not even with God. Mom was off limits. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Oh, but I think there is." He paused and leaned forward, evaluating me. "You see, Stiles, it has come to my attention that your dad is a very busy man, being the Sheriff and all and you are still a minor."
"I'm sixteen," I counter, not liking where this was going.
"Still a minor" He didn't seem upset by my outburst. "And as a principal and a grandfather I must admit I am worried that he isn't able to be home as often as he should…"
"Wait right there," I snarl and stand, "I honestly don't know where you are coming from but listen now and listen closely. My father is the Sheriff but he is my dad first and foremost. He is home as often as needed and he is only a call away. You have no right to threaten me, or my dad with CPS, and if you continue to try to play the 'I'm an innocent old man' speal I will make sure you lose."
Gerard leaned back and watched me, his eyes calculating, a smirk on his features. "I'm only saying,"
"I don't give a damn, sir, and I know my rights as a minor. And within California, unless you have evidence to show otherwise, non-disputable evidence, you have no claim against my father. As regulation in Child Domestic Cases, Class Seven-Eight-Three.*"
"You seem to know your law."
"My dad is the sheriff, of course I know it." I grab my bag and make my way to the door, "Good day, Gerard." And I leave.
Damn, I know that will be back to bite me in the butt, but it sure felt good.
Lacrosse practice, well, for Scott, I wasn't on the team, I could petition to be on the team and I'd win, equal opportunity and all that, but with my curse, I didn't want the hassle of making up an excuse to wear pants during a game. Or a team sweatshirt during games and every practice, so I just stayed to support my best friend of sixteen years. Who, was on the field, and doing pretty well, it seems that our 'control-your-inner-wolf' training had come in handy. I needed to thank the writers of Star Wars, who knew Yoda actually knew what he was talking about when he was training Luke?
So far I didn't have any negative repercussions for talking to the principal and wolf killer like that, but I hadn't let my guard down. The coach called for a break in play, and began yelling at them, the only one he didn't yell at was Danny. Sweet, sweet Danny, if only he weren't gay. But isn't that every girl's issue, a cute boy who is kind to everyone and doesn't care what you look like, just who you are is almost always gay, or already has a beautiful girlfriend and doesn't know that you exist. At least Danny knows that I exist, then again it's kind of hard for him not to, I sit next to him in Biology, ever since Scott traded to be next to Alison.
The coach finished yelling and a few boys went to run laps as punishment for missing the ball, or dropping the ball, or something. They did something to tick off coach, not that it took much anymore. The rest went to hit the showers, well, the majority. Danny stretched and smiled up at me, motioning for me to climb down from my perch on the bleachers. I did so, carefully, I hated the metal things, always feels like I'm either going to slide off or they're about to break underneath me. Thankfully I made it down without embarrassing myself, I spoke to soon. Last step and my foot catches on the metal lip, thankfully Danny catches me.
"Whoa there," He smiles, and steadies me.
"Thanks," I mumble, eyes shifting to the side. For some reason Danny makes me antsy, maybe its because he's so nice to me, and not many people are. They usually just put up with me, but he is genuinely nice.
"You're always at practice, rooting on Scott," Danny says, surprising me, I thought no one noticed me in my little perch on the top of the bleachers. "Do you want to learn how to play?"
That even surprises me more. I look at Danny warily, wondering if he was joking, but his face didn't have any signs of joking and his eyes seemed pretty serious.
"I guess so." I said, mentally I wanted to whoop for joy. I've only ever tossed the ball around with Scott, this would be the first time I went onto the field, and Danny being one of the best goalies our school's ever had, I was one lucky girl.
"Cool, come on then."
He led me to the spare equipment, sized me up with a quick look of the eyes and handed me a stick, and a helmet. I looked at it questioningly.
"Better safe than sorry Stiles," He said with a smile.
I grinned back and put it on, "Ewww," I couldn't help but whine. The helmet smelled, like, well a helmet. Danny laughed and shook his head before leading me out onto the field, ignoring the questioning looks of those still running laps. Coach hadn't called us out yet, so I guessed that we were ok.
"So, show me what you can do." Danny commanded, his eyes twinkling as he stood before the goal.
"Ok…" I murmured, feeling silly. But I cradled the sick like I've seen the players do, and started to pounce on my feet. Thankful that it hadn't rained in a while, and my Dr. Who shoes weren't going to get mud on them, I paid good money for them, so I wasn't going to let them get dirty any time soon.
"Good stance, ok, try to get it past me. I'll go easy on you." Danny said, before putting on his helmet, he knew from past experience that my aim wasn't spot on. And thankfully Danny was still wearing his padding, I prayed I didn't accidently hit anything vital.
I hopped on my feet for a minute more, closed my eyes and imagined having three opponents charging towards me, with wolf yellow eyes. The ball was monkswood, the last of its kind, and I needed to get it in the goal to save the human race. Eyes open, I charged. I swerved this way and that, and before I knew it I was flinging the ball into the goal, and, and it hit! Danny looked at me, then back at the ball, amazed.
"Stiles…" He said, his voice colored in surprise, "That was Awesome" He yelled, running towards me. Danny is a hugger, and a great one at that. He lifted me into the air and twirled me around for a second, I laughed.
"I couldn't even see the ball! You were wicked fast." Danny gushed, still holding me.
"You're just saying that," I murmured, thankful that the helmet was hiding my blush.
Before Danny was able to say anything more coach came roaring up.
"Stilinski!" He yelled.
I admit, I did a very girly thing, I squeaked and hopped behind Danny in surprise. Yelling 'I didn't do it," out of reflex.
"I saw what you just did on the field, and I can't believe it. I never thought you could move so fast." He exclaimed, having his hands and the clipboard that always seemed to be in one, around as he talked. "You have to try out for the team, with two of our players out due to grades and one with a bad ankle, we barely meet the team quota!"
I peeked behind Danny as coach ranted, the last part of his sentence took me by surprise, to where I nearly toppled over.
"What?!" I cried, looking at coach, taking off my helmet and rubbing my ears to make sure I didn't have anything in them.
"You heard me," Coach said, no longer yelling.
I turned my head and looked at Danny, he was grinning, like he knew the coach would want me on the team….
"You set me up!" I cried, pointing my finger at Danny.
"Yep," He agreed smiling at me.
I narrowed my eyes, "How'd you figure I could play?"
"I saw you throwing balls at Scott."
"Oh,"
"What do you say?" Coach asked, looking at me.
"I have two requirements,"
"Anything"
"I want to wear long sleeves and pants during games and practices and I want you to stop showing those old movies in Economics class."
Danny covered his laugh, coach looked at me, trying to see if I was serious or not.
"Pants and sleeves I can do, movies are school regulated."
"Deal."
And that was how I ended up on the lacrosse team.
Which is how I ended up on a bus, full of sweaty teenage boys, headed to a school three hours away, did I mention I was the only girl? Scott seemed to be conflicted, he liked the fact that I was on the team, but he didn't seemed too thrilled with the fact that I didn't make the team in the conventional way. Currently Scott was moping and looking out the window, he and Alison were having another lovers quarrel. I had my headphones in, listening to Pentatonix, an accapella group.
Jackson, the team's original captain turned co-captain, was glaring at me, he was positive I had wiggled my way onto the team through some unconventional method. As if. Danny was ignoring his best friend's brooding and was chatting with fellow players, with a heavy sigh I let my head flop backwards. I was already regretting agreeing to this, at least it gave me some positive attention at school, apparently a lot of people thought I was a pioneer for women's rights or something, because I was on the lacrosse team now. People were nodding to me and telling me 'way to go' and 'finally, a girl on the team', it was slightly startling. But in a good way.
"Ok, listen up!" Coach yelled, standing and holding onto a seat back to keep his balance, "This is the lineup for tonight. McCall, Jackson, Danny…" I zoned out, figuring that I would be a seat warmer for this game, considering I had only participated in two practices, "Stilinski."
"What?" My cry echoed Jackson's.
"She's a good player, well rounded, she can defend and she's ruthless when she's on offense, deal with it." Coach grumbled, pointing his clipboard towards Jackson in a threatening manner.
"But Coach," Jackson tried to plead his case without sounding like a whiny brat. As if he could sound like anything else.
"Deal," Coach yelled, then blew his whistle for good measure.
Scott and Jackson had a staring contest, I slunk down in the seat, crossed my arms and prayed I knew what I was doing.
As it were, I did know what I was doing, partially. I was able to get a few goals, got slammed more times than I would care to count, and I'm very thankful I'm not one to cry. For a rather large, defender from the other team set his sights on me, and it seemed as if every other play I Was getting smashed. Coach kept yelling for Jackson, Peterson or someone, anyone to block for me. A small part of me wondered if Jackson was leaving me open on purpose, to see if he could get rid of me without looking like an ass. Not that he didn't look like an ass normally.
Thankfully we won, but it was a close win, and coach started in on us right when we got onto the bus and were headed back.
"What the hell was that?" He yelled, practically spitting mad. Coach waved his clipboard around and pointed to players who he believed did the worst, he did take a moment to complement Danny on some terrific saves, then continued his rant. "Jackson, where the hell were you?"
"Coach?" Jackson attempted to sound innocent.
"I told you to block for Stilinski, she kept getting slammed out there! She could have made us more points if you were where I told you to be!"
"But coach, I – "
"Next practice, I expect you to run drills until I tell you to stop." Coach all but snarled at Jackson, I thought he would have made a rather nice wolf just then. All he needed were the yellow eyes and fangs and he'd be set, he already looked rabid.
Jackson deflated and nodded his head in submission. But for the remaining bus ride, he gave me dirty looks, and I knew I wasn't going to hear the end of it. It would just be out of Coach's hearing range.
Once the ride was over, and the bus hissed to a stop, the boys filed out. I stood with a groan, everything ached, and not in a good-workout way, in a I'm-going-to-be-blue-tomorrow way. I stretched before grabbing my bag and I had to bite back another groan, I was already regretting this. Headphones firmly in place, phone in hand, bag over shoulder, I trekked through the bus and down the stairs. Sighing when I realized I was not only the last one off the bus, but the only one in the parking lot. Scott had already taken off on his bike, what a wonderful best friend he was. I plugged my headphones into my phone and called my dad as I walked to my jeep. Even if I got an answering service, it was better to have it look like I was talking to someone, then seeming like a perfect target. Sue me if I've watched one too many abduction movies.
"Hey dad," I began, happy that he actually answered.
"Where are you?" He asked, sounding tired. Background noise told me he was still at work.
"I just got off the bus,"
"Bus? What bus? Stiles, where did you go?" He sounded panicked.
"Dad, chill. I told you I made the lacrosse team, and we had an away game today. I told you and left a note on the fridge and even called and told the front desk. I didn't run away, or anything like that."
"Oh…" he let out a long breath then laughed awkwardly.
"You need to sleep, when are you planning on coming home?"
"I'll probably crash on the couch in my office. It's been crazy here."
"That'll make it the fourth time this week," I begin, trying to hide the whine from my voice.
"Stiles," He let out another long sigh.
I could imagine him rubbing his face tiredly and looking at the top of his desk with weary eyes.
"No, no, it's ok, I know you're busy." I said, trying to sound chipper. "Keep in touch, I'll be home if you need me. Love ya," I hung up before he could say anything else. At least I was already at my lovely jeep and could toss the phone inside without worrying. It's not like Scott would call me, and dad wouldn't know how to deal with my 'girly issues' and he wouldn't call, and when he would finally come home, he'd act like nothing had happened. My dad is nothing if not predictable.
I got my Jeep rolling out of the lot and onto the road without any issues, my bruises had bruises, and I'm pretty sure a few thorns were pricking my skin. You'd think the parts of the vines that were raised from my skin, wouldn't hurt if they poked me. You'd be wrong, they sting. Red light, I fiddled with my radio, hoping to find something good on. I like GaGa don't get me wrong, but I could only handle so much before I wanted to toss the CD out the window.
A flash of something danced across my peripheral, I jumped then winced. Squinting, I peered out my windshield, wondering if I had been smashed one too many times tonight and was starting to see things. I chuckled to myself and started forward when the light turned green. Then my jeep was side-swiped.
My body was forced to the left, the engine of the other vehicle was hungrily biting at my jeep's door, wanting in, kind of like the big bad wolf. My seatbelt held me in place, the jeep spun around sickeningly, kind of like an evil merry-go-round. My head snapped to the side, eyes were too scared to close, when the jeep finally came to a stop I was frozen. A door slammed shut, and heavy footsteps could be heard, whoever smashed into me was coming closer, and they didn't sound like a worried or panicking bystander. The gait was too even, I honestly don't know how I was able to take note of this, while my head pounded with an intensity that would rival Harry Potter's when Voldy was coming closer. The footsteps stopped, painfully I turned my head to the left and let out the girliest scream I had ever let loose, and it would have made a slasher film victim cringe in shame.
The man wasn't so much a man as flesh, sown together. Some flesh was swollen and raised angrily, his lips seemed to be pasted on, his top lip was barely there, bottom looked as if it had been injected with saline. His mouth twisted into a smile, showing a set of teeth that seemed to be made of only molars.
"Found you." He grunted, his voice seemed to be a mixture of pubescent and old man, a shivering combination.
I stopped screaming, and opted for scrambling for the seatbelt to get away. Bruises be damned, I had to get away.
"Tsk, no running away, Treasure."
I saved my breath, and finally was able to release the mangled seatbelt. But that was as far as I was able to go, for a second later the….man(?) pulled the door off my hinges. It was as if it had wires attached and the metal was really perfectly sculpted foam from a prop room. I scramble for my phone, fingertips straining to touch the smooth plastic, only to be grabbed by the waist. I was heaved from the car as if my 180lb body weighed twenty pounds, and I wasn't going easy. I was doing everything they teach you in school, I kicked, screamed, wiggled, screamed some more. His fingers were sausages, they felt like cool wax against my skin, my wiggling seemed to annoy him more than anything.
"Quiet, Treasure, you'll wake the trees." He grunted, then heaved me over his shoulder, my hands and legs beat uselessly against his trunk-like frame.
He spun around, my head bounced against the door-less door frame of my jeep. Little black and white spots happily danced around my eyes, the fight left me as I fought to stay conscious. Before I gave into the dark, I saw trees weaving together, but there was no wind.
So? Want me to continue? To just stop, go back to my other story and forget this one? Please review and tell me, all reviews make me happy! Until next time, Adieu!
