If you asked her how she got into this situation, she wouldn't have an answer for you. Covered in blood, a bullet hole in her chest, and begging an alpha werewolf to bite her. It all seems really cliché and yet she wouldn't change a single thing about her move to Beacon Hills. She wouldn't change the way she met the people she cared about and she wouldn't change how she got sucked into the supernatural world of werewolves and giant lizards and hot lacrosse players. Nothing.
Chapter 1
Daisy was barely 16 when her parents, more her father than anything, kicked her out of her childhood home and told her to find a new place to live. When they said they didn't want her; that she didn't deserve to have what they've given her. Sixteen. They had done it to her brother when she was seven, and she never heard from him again; not until a letter came one day with a dog tag, saying her brother died in battle. Her parents, the military dischargee and the perfect housewife, drunks. They thought this was right, that this was the proper way to raise a child, her mother didn't, at first (or when she was sober), but her step-father soon changed that with more wine and a threat of a beating. She only had a week before they put her out on the street. Within that week, she didn't speak a single word against them while she put a payment on a new apartment in a town that was an hour away from her parents and their fucked up life style. She only wished it was farther.
By the end of that month she found a nice little job at a dance studio, teaching lessons to younger kids. Her new apartment was small and had brown cardboard boxes piled high, filled with all of her belongings. She didn't make any friends, or meet anyone besides her boss and a few of her students moms; which she tried to avoid as much as possible.
When she started to hear about the animal attacks from the gossip coming from dance moms, Daisy began to doubt her decision of moving to such an unknown place. But then everything suddenly ended and she realized she had been living in this new place for practically half a year without making an effort to try to enroll herself in school. She had saved up enough to afford some new school supplies while pay her rent and manage to feed herself. So one day before work she walked to the local high school and enrolled herself into her sophomore year of her school career.
She was hesitant when she reached forward to the door handle. Her hand paused mid air and her bottom lip found its way in between her teeth. 'Was this a good idea?', she asked herself. Shaking off all bad thoughts, Daisy fixed the strap of her dance bag on her shoulder and pushed open the door, walking in with light steps and perfect posture, something most dancers, and military brats, acquire over time. She walked into the office and let out a breath when she found it to be relatively empty. An older woman looked at her over thick lenses and raised an expecting eyebrow.
"Can I help you?" The woman asked with an amused smile when Daisy stood there for a moment, not saying a word.
"O-oh, uh, hi! My name is Daisy Daniels... I called the other day about enrollment...?"
Realization washed over a pale, wrinkled face and a pitying smile overtook the amused one. "Of course dear, it's wonderful to meet you," the woman said, "you can go right in and meet Ms. Morell." The woman's hand gestured to a door marked for the office of a guidance counselor. Daisy cleared her throat and gave a quick smile before ducking her head and scurrying to the door. She knocked twice and turned the bronze knob when she heard a faint welcome.
A rather stunning black woman greeted her from behind a desk. She was young, with fingers crossed professionally across themselves; French manicure. Under her perfect hands was a Manila folder and Daisy's name on the little tab. "Please sit," a calm, emotionless voice instructed her. Daisy did as told, her military child habits kicking in. With perfect posture, she sat her dance bag down next to her sweats clad legs.
A rigid back and a straight line gracing her lips, you'll never know when you'd need a poker face.
She said nothing and stared straight ahead, waiting to be addressed. Morell opened the folder, eyes never even skimming the words printed.
"So, , Daisy, I see you live on your own?" She read it before. It was a test.
Daisy merely nodded.
"I've been... briefed on your situation. And I'd like to hear how you feel about this. If that is okay, of course." She lowered the folder and gave Daisy a tight smile. The dancer gave one back. "Yes, Ma'am. "
Morell cleared her throat. "Your grades are excellent, attendance record matches. It's says you were in ROTC before you moved. Is that something you would want to continue?" Another nod and the counselor wrote something down on the folder. Daisy caught glimpse of a picture from the corner of the paper, a sad looking girl with long hair. It took a moment for her to realize that it was a picture of her, probably months before she got kicked out and cut off all her hair. "Good. Now... We're putting you in Geometry, Chemistry, English 10..."
The younger began to zone out until a particular question caught her interest.
"...language would fill one of those blanks, so you have space for another class. Is there anyth-"
"Dance. "
looked surprised for a moment before chuckling at the teen's sudden boldness. She wrote down another note. "One more thing. I want you to come to me once a week, whenever you have free time. There are some things that we need to talk about. You start Monday. Report to the office then and you'll receive all of the needed information." It was Friday.
Daisy scowled only slightly before a poker face was slipped into place and she nodded with only a slight downward motion at the corner of her lip.
Morell stood and she followed.
The older woman led her to the door and opened it for her. She handed her the folder. "Hand this to on your way out, would you?" A nod. Then the door shut and Daisy was left standing there in her grey sweats and black tank top, strap of her bag on her cardigan clad shoulder and her black hair that usually brushed her collar bones was currently pulled back into a neat bun at the top of her head.
She bit her lip as she handed the older woman the folder and checked the watch wrapped around her wrist and hissed out a curse.
She was going to be late for work. A sense of nervousness and guilt washed over her as she said a quick goodbye to the nice woman and rushed from the office. On her way to the front door she bumped into a boy.
Buzz cut, plaid shirt, moles; cute.
Daisy paid no mind and shouted a sorry before scrambling out the door and down the steps. Her flat covered feet slammed down onto the pavement as she ran.
She ended up flinging herself through the glass door of the studio two minutes before her first class of the afternoon started. Dark eyes wide, she rambled out apologies to her boss, , and a few of her students whom have gotten to the studio early. was a beautiful woman of 37, but she would say she was 22 if you asked, with flawless dark skin and a thick, African accent. With a playful smile on her lips, she waved Daisy off.
"No, no Child, it's alright. Go get changed and I will entertain the little ones," is what Ms.J had said, but really, what she meant was: "If you don't stop apologizing and get your butt changed right now or so help me."
It took all but twenty seconds for her to rush into the back room and slip out of her baggy sweats. Underneath were a pair of dancing leggings. She dug into her bag and pulled out a pair of leg warmers, slipped them over her ankles, and stuffed her pants into the bag in their place. She left her bag in the room and slipped out into the main area of the studio with ballet bars and mirrored walls.
had all of the children for the 12-1:00 o'clock class in a off-looking circle, with herself at the head. The children ranged from ages three to four and they were all practically vibrating in their skins, ready to start their class. Ms.J noticed Daisy's arrival and gave her a pearly white grin.
"Ah look, little ones! Miss Day is here!" And at that moment all hell went loose. Children screamed and jumped up from the oval looking circle. Small bodies swarmed Daisy's legs and for the first time that day the teen gave them all a real, warm smile. It always overjoyed her to see children so excited about learning how to dance; it reminded her of how she felt as a young child at her first few classes.
"Hey guys! How are you all on this fine afternoon?"
The question was answered with a chorus of "Good"s and "Cool"s. Out of the corner of her eye, Daisy saw the eldest dancer retreat to the back room, where her office resided. The teen bent down and swept one of the youngest students she had, a tiny little girl, just pushing past three, into her tan arms and propped her up on her hip and smiled down at her for a moment.
Her dark eyes began to flick onto each of the other children's faces, feeling their excitement as contagious and a grin quickly graced her lips. "Alright guys! Whose ready to stretch?"
More screams.
