Chapter 1
„Do I have to?"I whine clutching onto the handle of the car door, looking to the brick building that seemed to loom over me and the students who were climbing the stairs of the entrance.
"Em-" My Dad says sighing.
"I know, I know." I concede shifting my gaze to my ever-young Dad, he smiles at me.
"You'll be late, Em."
"I'm aware." I grumpily admit.
"Do I have to remind you that this was your idea?" He asks, his grin never wavering.
"You were the one that had to get shot, I'm sorry for trying to keep you safe." I reply feeling like dirt the moment after. The shock had gone deep and had made itself home in my bone marrow, I couldn't shake it but this was uncalled for.
Dad's smile fades, he pets my upper thigh encouragingly. "It's not like I shot myself." He reminds me, repeating what he had told me a million times for the last two months.
"You might as well have for all I know." I reply, it's a familiar dialogue, almost losing my Dad in a shooting between two Methamphetamine-Lords and the police forces had hardly been fun.
"You'll be late." He repeats.
"I'm the new girl anyways, coming late will give me an air of mystery." I say still adamant that I'd rather not enter the looming brick building that in this moment might as well have been the gates to hell.
"You are mystery enough. Now go." He orders lightly smacking my thigh to get me moving. Dad kisses my cheek, reaching over me to open the door and then nudged me. When I didn't show signs of complying he sighed amused. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"No!" I protest and begrudgingly open the door and swing my legs out of the 780 Volvo (aka the piece of crap I was going to drive as soon as I turned 16) and shouldered my bag.
„Be careful, I love you."I tell him while closing the door.
„It's Beacon Hills, what could possibly happen?" Dad calls after me through the window, earning him the bird thrown over my shoulder. To say we had our rituals would be an understatement.
The school office is a glass cube admits the school that turned out to be surprisingly easy to navigate, it's nothing like my old High School. A row of chairs is screwed on the outside the wall, one student sits there, he eyes me when I pass – I resist to make a face.
The room is divided by a high counter that barely hides the towering up-do of the secretary. The higher the hair the closer to god seemed to be the motto.
"Hello dear, what can I do for you?" The sweet looking woman behind the desk asks.
"Oh, uh I'm new here, I'm Emilia Stilinski?"
"Oh dear," She says distractedly and ducks behind the counter to rummage through various documents, the office itself seemed to be cluttered by papers, I would probably have to wait a while. I would come in late after all.
Surprisingly she retrieves a stack of papers within seconds – there is a method to the chaos.
"There you go." She says handing it to me. "The vice principal will pick you up from outside the school – you can sit on the bench by the entrance."
I sit waiting on the bench beneath a tree contemplating to run away - or more realistically return to bed – fiddling with my bag. I looked up when a pretty girl my age sat down at the far end of the bench. She nervously plays with her brown hair, as I am about to ask her if she is new too her phone rings.
"Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it." I rejoice quietly. Not being the only new kid would be taking a lot of the blow, all these teenagers wouldn't know who to look at first.
And a girl as pretty as her, they wouldn't even bother with me. If I would've leaned that way, I would've leaned her way.
"Everything except a pen. Oh, my God, I didn't actually forget a pen." She says frantically searching her bag, the phone jammed between her shoulder and ear.
Out of my peripheral view I notice a man walking toward us. She notices too and begins hanging up on her Mom. "-Love ya."
"Allison Argent?" He says in her direction and turning to me he adds: "Emilia Stilinski?" I confirm with a nod, Allison turns to me and smiles, I return it gratefully.
"Welcome to Beacon Hills High School." He welcomes us flashing a row of white teeth. He leads us inside, I fall in step with Allison who carries the conversation with the vice principal.
"No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual in my family." She answers when he asks if she had lived in San Francisco all her life. He nods.
"What about you Miss Stilinski?" I dreaded this, Albuquerque is a far cry from interesting in comparison to San Francisco.
"I was born here we just moved back from Albuquerque. My cousin actually goes to school here."
"Ah," He nods, losing any and all interest. San Francisco? Yay. Albuquerque? Nay. Got it.
"Well, hopefully Beacon Hills will be your last stop for a while." He says more to Allison than to me as he stops in front of one of the class rooms, he swings the door open and lets us step inside.
It was a bit like suddenly growing a beard and being part of a traveling circus, all eyes were on us. I felt horribly out of place. Allison did too from the looks of it, she smiled shyly and shuffled her feet – if I would've even tried to smile like that no one would befriend me.
The shy looking up and smiling thing would make me look like a freaking serial killer, so I opted to look neutral by staring anywhere but at the students.
"Class, these are our new students, Allison Argent and Emilia Stilinski. Please do your best to make them feel welcome." He recites and leaves us standing in the front and to our demise.
The teacher behind the desk, points to the only two free seats, one in the front and one in the back, before I can even consider my options Allison makes her way to the back – lucky girl – I was left to take the one on the right side by the door.
"We'll begin with Kafka's Metamorphosis, on page 133." I turn to the pages that were already on my desk and scan them, the syllabus looks not too demanding which I rejoice over, I am not the most studious of students.
In fact I vividly remember not studying for my last midterm because my Dad had bought himself a new x-box. (Which is now mine by the way)
"Psst! Em!" Despite feeling spoken too I ignored it, thinking that there had to be at least 54 Sophomore Emilys that went by Em and chances were that at least one of them sat right in this class maybe even behind me. Besides, I didn't want to be the dork that turned around as soon as someone said her name or any resemblance thereof.
"Em!" Again, I didn't bother instead I highlighted another passage, completely disregarding reason and coloring everything bright neon yellow. What could be the chances that the person meant me?
"Dingbat!" The person tries whisper yelling though it turned out to be more of a yell than a whisper. This time I was sure it was directed at me.
"What?" I reply turning around coming face to face with my flailing cousin a few rows over. My face lights up, returning the excited waving I looked just like my dork for a cousin.
"You need a moment, Stilinski?" The teacher asks looking disgruntled but not surprised.
"Yes, that'd be great." Stiles replies unwaveringly earnest and excited.
"Sit. Down. Stilinski." The teacher – who's name remained a mystery to me – barks and Stiles complies not fazed at all.
"When did you get back?" He mouths, keeping eye contact with me over Scott's head, who I had not noticed up until this point. Scott is occupied with staring at Allison as predicted.
"Last night." I mouth, my neck is testimony to that, the dull pain from leaning against the window was a reminder of the last 35 hours I had spent in a car and then to end the torturous journey in a Motel bed. It was supposed to be 18 hours of driving but Google Maps turned out to be lying liar that lied.
Granted we did make a short stop at the Grand Canyon. Stiles threw his hands in the air as if to say 'why didn't you call me'. I roll my eyes, he sure would've appreciated a call at 3 in the morning. Class carried on while I inspected my schedule.
English, Chemistry, Economy, French, World History and PE would make my life miserable until the summer. The college fund back home was probably sighing in relieve, as if Ivy League colleges had ever been in an option.
It wasn't that I wasn't smart, the teachers usually called it 'above average intellect – below average performance', cripplingly lazy in other words.
If I took interest in what was taught I excelled, but with a curriculum like the one that had been handed to me by the English teacher, there was seldom anything that really captured my interest.
Stiles practically tackled me as soon as the class was over, as the bell rang I was engulfed by my overly excited cousin's arms. He rocked me around, I was practically a ragdoll in his arms.
"Dude, I missed you!" He proclaims squeezing me even harder, despite being unable to breath and feeling a little lightheaded because of my low oxygen intake it felt really good to finally hug Stiles again.
"I can't breathe." I eventually whine muffled by my face being pressed into his jersey t-shirt.
"Breathing is a surprisingly easy concept, really." He says as he lets go of me.
"Oh, how I've missed you." I say rolling my eyes, he grins brightly, taking a step back I notice shaggy brown haired, brown eyed puppy-like Scott lurking by Stiles side.
He stands smiling, his hands buried in his pockets. There was once a time that I had had a crush on Scott back when we were about 12, we even shared our first spin the bottle kiss. It was simply fate for 12 year old me.
Stiles being constantly by our side made our relationship short lived, which I now assessed as for the better as Scott made a wonderful friend and my overly dramatic past self would've blown any chance for a friendship away with a tantrum of epic proportions. I wasn't exactly proud of past-Emilia.
I grasp Scott by the shoulders and pull him into a hug, he wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed me as well.
"I've missed you Scotty."
"Missed you too, Emmy," He lets go and I straighten my clothes out.
"What's on your schedule?" Stiles asks snatching the piece of paper out of my bag. His face lights up as he reads, Scott and I share a wary look.
"We'll see each other a whole lot." He proclaims and puts the paper back into my waiting hand grinning gleefully.
"Great." I intoned, grinning when Stiles punches my shoulder. I notice Allison walking past us, she had her head held down looking at a piece of paper that looked like her schedule.
"See you then." I say giving the boys a thumbs up, I turned on my heel and followed my fellow sufferer. Allison was quick on her feet, keeping up with her turned out to be quite the workout.
"What's your plan?" Stiles calls after me.
"Making a friend!" I reply over my shoulder.
"Hey, Allison?" She looks around confused and then back down, same procedure as I had done earlier.
"Allison!" This time she hears me, she locates my voice and comes to a halt. I almost run smack dab into her. She smiles as she recognized me.
"Emilia, right?" I nod returning the smile. "Please tell me we have more classes with each other." I say making her laugh, she pulls her schedule up to compare it to mine.
"French." We say in unison, both glad that we aren't alone.
French lessons always started with 'Bonjour les élèves' and ended with 'Je m'en fous.' on my part. It was moments like this that I regretted not electing Spanish or even German – at least they didn't just make letters disappear. And they said stuff like 'Das ist mir Wurst' and if that isn't endearing then I don't even know.
The elderly teacher handed us work sheets that we had to work on in silence as she knitted what looked like to be a sweater for a tiny dog. I occupied myself with drawing flowers and tiny bees where the various forms of 'être' were supposed to go. That was until I felt a tap on my shoulder, I turn around and come face to face with a smiling Allison. "Do you need any help? I'm fairly good with conjugations." Looking down to my own paper and the incredible artwork that adorned it, I shook my head no. She looks disappointed and a little bit rejected.
"It's not that I don't appreciate it but-" With a look to the teacher – she had dozed off, still clutching the piece of tiny orange-black undefinable knitwear – I turned around and let her see my doodles. Allison's face split into a smile.
"So I take it you don't like French very much?"
"School in general isn't my thing," I admit shrugging my shoulders. She nods her head as if to say 'I get it'.
"So, I couldn't help but overhear that this isn't your first time as the new girl?" It was Allison's turn to shrug. "Yeah my Dad has to move around for his job a lot, he sells firearms to the law enforcement."
"Oh, that's cool, my Dad is part of the law enforcement," After a short pause in which I thought about moving again anytime soon I added: "But it sucks that you have to move so much."
She nods. "I'm hoping we'll stay a little longer, I want normal for once, you know prom and friends..." She trails off looking wistful. "What's your story?" She asks putting her pen aside.
I crossed my legs and propped my head up on my fist, getting ready to tell my exciting tale. "My Dad got shot on duty, I convinced him that maybe moving somewhere more tranquil and rural could do his health and my nerves some good."
"Oh, no! What happened?" "It was right out of Breaking Bad, there was meth involved and my Dad probably flung himself right into a bullet – he's a bit of an adrenaline junkie," I say flippantly, although it still didn't feel like a laughing matter. "I'm glad you are the new girl with me, Allison." I say smiling at her, I was tempted to reach out and squeeze her hand but since I knew her for all of 3 hours I refrained.
"Me too." Allison agrees.
I leaned against one of the lockers, flipping through my cellphone reading the text my Dad had sent me. It mentioned a surprise, that never meant anything good with my Dad. Allison was next to me ruffling in her locker, her gaze suddenly shifted and she smiled, I followed her gaze and we both looked at Scott – who wore a mix of soppy admiration and a smile on his face.
Love was in the air. Teenage high school pheromone pollution gives me acne.
I was about to dive into that time Scott peed himself in front of the whole preschool – there was even a football involved – when a tiny redhead appeared out of thin air. I almost peed myself.
"That jacket is absolutely killer. Where'd you get it?" She asks giving Allison a once over. I recognized her as the girl Stiles had been tits over arse for, for the last century, he had even sporadically send me updates on her well being.
Lydia Martin did live up to the things Stiles head told me, even more so now that she stood in front of me. Beautiful red hair, lovely green eyes, this school was packed with good looking people.
Weren't teenagers supposed to go through a phase of confused taste, awkward limbs and pimples?
"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco." Allison explains hesitantly. "
And you are my new best friend." Lydia says pointing to her. I made a face, I had hoped for that spot. Another ridiculously good-looking individual appeared from behind the redheaded goddess.
"Hey, Jackson." Lydia greets him, kissing him on the lips. He puts his arms around her waist and his head on her shoulder. Allison's panicked side eye alerts me and makes me spring into action.
"Hi." I say strangled. Allison sighs relieved as the beautiful (but also terrible) two shifted their attention to me. Lydia eyed me and my outfit as if she had just now noticed my presence and very obviously deemed me unworthy.
I didn't have a mother that bought clothes for a boutique or for me, in fact I was pretty sure that by judging what my Dad told me of his youth she was a prostitute in Fresno. The only things she bought were ramen and maybe lube, definitely not lovely army green jackets.
"Hi." Lydia says testily, her gaze still lingering on my DIY cut-off high-waisted shorts.
"I'm Emilia." I introduce myself, despite feeling like she really didn't care about my name or person in general. Anything for Allison though.
"Lydia." She says in a way that told me that I should have known her name. I liked her already, the level of confidence she had achieved was something to dream of and aspire to.
"I am Jackson." Said the dude that still had his arms wrapped around Beacon Hills queen-bee, flashing me a brilliant smile. Two months ago Jackson would've been my type, overly confident, good looking and with that extra dash of assholery that lured me in like a bee was lured in by particularly sweet lemonade.
The two months being the focus here, once you get a little taste of that particular brand of assholery you'd do good in staying clear of it – I had learned this the hard way.
Lydia dropped her gaze and turned to the more interesting Allison. "So, this weekend, there's a party." Lydia suggests playing with her hair.
"A party?" Allison was still apprehensive, I could tell.
"Yeah–Friday night. You should come." Jackson says looking at the both of us, Lydia was still only interested in Allison. I found myself nodding which changed to shaking my head no when Allison declined. I was a goddamn suck up.
"Uh, I can't. It's family night this Friday. Thanks for asking."
"Yeah, yeah same." I added unconvincingly, every night was family night if my Dad didn't have to work.
"You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage." Sports. Ew. I tuned out immediately, anything involving balls, expect for one thing, bored me incredibly. My Dad had time and time again tried to convince me to at least watch some football with him but had so far failed miserably.
The only thing that I voluntarily watch is Hockey and that is simply because the league being compromised of sass and ass. I was pulled out of my own little world (again: sass and ass) when Allison nudged me.
"Are you coming?" A noise of question escapes me that earns me a look of contempt from Lydia.
"Lacrosse?" Allison sounds unsure, apparently intimidated by the terrible two. "Sounds good." I say following the three, still somewhat dazed. When I threw a look over my shoulder I could see Scott leering after Allison and Stiles giving me the thumbs up. Huh?
It was icy outside, I could see my breath materializing as light fog every time I exhaled. I rubbed my sides in an effort to get my blood running again. I deeply regretted not bringing my jacket, I could only imagine where it was, in the back of the Volvo next to my beloved feather pillow enjoying the warmth, completely useless to me.
I was protected only by my woolen cardigan that offered next to nothing. My attention focused on the coach, a stocky man with spiky hair and slightly crazy eyes, who yelled orders and then threw equipment Scott's way – apparently denouncing or promoting him to be the goalie.
Scott didn't seem to be too happy about the development of the practice and protested. As far as I knew he sucked and to me It didn't really matter which position he played.
Stiles assessment of Scott's skills rang true when a puck sent him backwards into the goal. He landed with a thud on his back, I winced in sympathy.
Next to me Allison had a similar reaction. Scott got up again, considering the laughter of his teammates and the spectators a truly heroic feat I could only dream of, I would've pretended to be heavily injured or dead.
After that things happened in quick succession, Scott's heroism turned into incredible athleticism when he caught puck after puck.
I wondered whether Stiles had been lying to me or if Scott had been injected with super-soldier serum. Lydia and Allison were busy cheering while I sat with my mouth slightly ajar.
Stiles usually wasn't one to stop at praising anything he and his partner in crime achieved, in fact he usually never stopped praising their dumb ideas.
I sidled down the bleachers in an attempt to figure out what was going on. Stiles cheered as well but he too looked slightly baffled.
"Didn't you say he was bad?" I ask, grinning when my cousin jerked, surprised by my sudden appearance by his side.
"Yeah, bad-ass!" He exclaims, hooting some more for Scott. Suddenly the atmosphere changed drastically; people around me sucked in the air and held it in, Stiles' mouth opened and closed several times. It felt like the only thing missing was a ridiculous teen-romcom-slow-motion-montage of what appeared to be Jackson flinging the puck to Scott.
"Why are we holding our breaths?" I ask looking from my cousin to the field to the people on the stands. Everything was super intense, this was just lacrosse practice, what would these people do if there was ever anything serious happening?
"What's going on?" The only response I received was Stiles smacking his hand against my mouth in an effort to shut me up.
"OW!" I exclaimed covering my mouth with my hand, I took a step back glaring, Stiles' eyes never left the field. Sodding Pisspot.
I followed his stare just in time to see Scott catching the white round thing with his net-stick. The only fellow person who didn't seem to understand why everyone was celebrating was Allison who sat on the stands while Lydia stood on them clapping her gloved hands.
"Am I bleeding?" I ask touching my upper lip with my frozen fingers.
"Why would you bleed?" Stiles asks looking confused.
"Maybe because you smacked me in the face, Stiles." I reply snappily inspecting my fingers for blood.
"I didn't even touch you." He protests.
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too." I said stomping my feet, I could feel my upper lip swelling.
"Did not, Emilia Augusta."
"Did too, Pr-" This time Stiles covered my mouth effectively, he looked around frantically trying to see if anyone heard me.
"Don't ever say it out loud." He said throwing a panicked look to Lydia – as if she would have been able to hear me. He let go of me when I nodded.
"Lydia didn't hear anything but it could've been your chance at a second glance considering your name." I teased, he punched me in the shoulder.
"Guys did you see that?" Scott asked grinning as if he had just won a championship.
"How could I miss it? That was the peak athletic performance that'll shape everyone's perception of sports. You are a hero." I say sarcastically but when Scott's dopey smile didn't falter I immediately was overcome by guilt and backtracked. Being sarcastic with him was always like kicking a puppy. "Just kidding. You were great, Scott."
"Great? Dude, that was awesome!" Stiles exclaims excitedly clapping Scott on his back.
"Do you think Allison saw?" Scott asks a hopeful expression on his face. In Stilinski-like synchronization both Stiles and I rolled our eyes.
"Everyone saw, Scott." I reassure him somehow his smile widens even more. The boys fist bump.
"Are you gonna be okay?" Stiles asks turning to me, I frown confused. "I can't give you a lift, Scott and I have something to take care of." He gives Scott a mischievous side glance that makes me afraid to ask.
I wave him off. "Dad's gonna pick me up." I hope, he isn't the best at remembering these things. Stiles nods.
"See you tonight." He smiles and he and Scott retreat to the boys' locker room.
Our gray Volvo waits at the front of the school, loud hip-hop music alerts students and parents alike to our car. Dad's nodding his head to the beat when I climb in, he doesn't turn it down until we leave school parking lot.
"Was that necessary?" I ask grinning.
"Anything to embarrass you." He says grinning as well.
"I don't feel embarrassment anymore, you made me immune." I tell him changing the station until I find a decent one that plays international music.
"So," Dad says after a short pause of listening to a Spanish sounding version of smell's like teen spirit. "Are you excited for the surprise?"
"Is it a pony?"
"Aw come one, take it a little more seriously." Dad says sounding far more like Stiles than I'm comfortable with.
"Your surprises usually suck, Dad. I'm as excited as I can afford to be."
"Yeah, well if you expect a pony every time you will definitely be disappointed," I blow my cheeks at him and huff. "There is a blindfold on the backseat." He says pointing over his shoulder.
"A blindfold, really?" I ask incredulously.
"Yes really. Do it Em, I want to do the whole thing." I huff again but comply, seeing my Dad so excited makes it hard to say no to such things.
"Okay, what now?" I ask when the cloth is wrapped around my head and I can't see anymore.
"You build up the necessary excitement and I'll drive around the block some more until I think you are excited enough."
And that's what we do until I feel myself getting motion sick. "If you don't want me to puke on the surprise I suggest you decide I'm excited enough." My stomach rumbles dangerously to accompany what I'm saying.
"You are in luck, Emilia." He says and suddenly the car stops, I reach for the blindfold.
"That's not coming off until I tell you to take it off." My dad says stopping me in mid motion. As I can't see anything I wait until he opens the passenger door, a gust of the cold wind hits me and I shiver.
Dad puts his hand on my head and helps me out of the car, after a few steps my feet hit something soft, grass.
"Okay, stay right here," He tells me and positions me by the shoulders. "Ready?"
"As ready as I can be." I say unsure of what to expect, it could be anything, he once bought me carebear sheets and called them a surprise anything is possible with my Dad.
"Good." He says and lifts the blindfold from my eyes. In front of me appears a huge house with a blueish greenish facade and a porch of stone.
My jaw drops and I turn to my dad who grins brightly.
"What? How? Why?"
"A house. Built in 1910. I bought it. We needed a place to live in." Dad replies chuckling.
"I-I.." I can't find any words for it, he had talked about an apartment, he had showed me pictures. What was this?
"You bought a house?" My voice is octaves higher than usual and my face is flushed.
"I bought a house."
"This isn't a ploy that will reveal that you married on a cruise and that I now have 5 new siblings or something?"
"This isn't Full House, Em." He says laughing.
"You mean Step by Step." I correct him, he gently puts his hand between my shoulder blades and leads me up the porch and inside.
"Welcome to Beacon Hills." He says opening his arms wide and bowing slightly.
A/N: This is my first ever fanfiction so please be patient with me - I haven't gotten the hang of this yet. Also I'm French so excuse any mistakes I make. Thanks for reading don't forget to review. :)