First off, I want to thank all of my reviewers, you people are just lovely (: Without you guys, I don't know how I would keep my muse so strong. And, without further ado, here is the next installment to "Home":


"You're sure your parents won't mind me staying here?" Laura asked me as we both stepped out of my car.

The rain had finally subsided, leaving behind a few wisps of fog that stubbornly refused to dissipate. I glanced up at the house looming before me that, for the past few months, I had been forced to call home: fairly average-sized with a giant, white farmer's porch that wound itself around the entire first floor, encasing a sunny yellow front door. Wind chimes hung from thick, black nails, tinkling lightly as the breeze fluttered through the porch. It was rather country for the chic state of California, but, for my family, it fit perfectly.

"Grandparents," I corrected her now, glancing back at her. "And it won't really matter if they do anyways; if my timing's right, they'll have both taken their pills, so an earthquake can pass by here and they'll still be snoring away."

To make my case, I calmly unlocked the front door and turned on the entryway light, illuminating the two of us, as well as the wooden staircase leading up to my slumbering grandparents. After locking the front door and shutting off any unneeded lights, I motioned for her to follow me up the stairs and into my bedroom, gently closing the door behind Laura. "I'm sorry it's a bit of a mess…" I told her, glancing around the room.

The problem with working a full-time job was that I was never offered enough time to sit down and fully unpack the boxes that held my possessions that had been shipped all the way from Maine. By the time I arrived home every night, I would just gaze stupidly at the walls lined with cardboard boxes labeled with "clothes" and "books", and eventually collapse onto my bed, too exhausted and emotionally drained to deal with any of it. For, as soon as I cut away the tape binding those boxes, my memories would come rushing out, infecting my insides until I have no other choice but to accept them.

Besides the mess of boxes, my room was fairly organized; my pale yellow comforter was pressed neatly around my cream-colored pillows, several library books piled high on the nightstand beside my bed. The door to my closet was just barely open, the sleeve of my black jacket peeking out at us. My window was pushed open, a light breeze filtering into the lit room and brushing the white, gauzy curtains aside.

"Did you all just move here?" asked Laura, taking a seat at my desk, pulling one of her legs up to her chest and resting her chin upon her knee.

"I did," I replied, sitting cross-legged on my bed. "I used to live in Portland, Maine before…well, before my father died."

"I'm sorry," Laura said, her intense green gaze never leaving my face. "I…understand what it's like to lose a parent—nothing can ever fill that hole, no matter how hard you try. You just have to learn to live with it."

I smiled sadly at Laura, nodding; she hadn't asked me how my father had passed, which I greatly appreciated, and I repaid the favor by not querying about her own past. Instead, I got back on my feet and pulled some clothes from my dresser. Turning back to Laura, I told her, "I'm afraid that the shorts might be a little short, but they'll have to do," as I passed them into her waiting hands. "And my sleeping bag is up in my closet, so you can have my bed—"

"Oh no," said Laura, already beginning to unabashedly strip away her t-shirt and jeans and pull on the clothes I had handed her. "I'm not taking your bed. Give me the sleeping bag, I'll be more than fine. And don't argue," she added as I opened my mouth to do just that, "or I'll just tape you to the bed if I have to."

Relenting, I grudgingly nodded and, after grabbing the sleeping bag for her, rushed to the bathroom to change. While Laura may have been more than comfortable enough to change clothes in front of someone she had only known for a couple weeks, I was most definitely not. Perhaps it was just me being prudish, but I couldn't bring myself to just undress in front of someone I wasn't completely at ease with. Even then, I still wouldn't feel relaxed.

After slipping into a pair of sleep shorts and an over-sized t-shirt, I stole back to my bedroom, where Laura was sitting out on my pale blue sleeping bag, curiously examining the books that I had checked out from the library about a week ago. "You sure are a reader," she stated as soon as I quietly closed the door behind me.

"Yeah, I guess it's in my blood," I shrugged as I settled onto my bed, plunging my ice-cold feet underneath my thick comforter. "My mom practically lived in our local bookstore; she was just as obsessed as I was with books. Novels, textbooks, encyclopedias, you name it. She even named me after Jane Eyre."

"It sounds like you two were close."

"No, not really," I replied uncomfortably. "She passed away just after I was born." As I saw her startled gaze turning to me, I hastily added, "Enough about me. What about your family?"

At first, Laura didn't reply, making me fear that I had touched on some unforeseen nerve. However, just as I was about to take back the inquiry, she responded, "It's just Derek and me, my younger brother. We haven't seen each other in a few years though; he's in Brooklyn, and I've been living up in Washington ever since we both graduated from Beacon Hills High."

"It must be nice to have a brother though," I offered. "To have a companion throughout your childhood? It was always just me and my dad growing up, and he was constantly at work, so I never really had anyone. Well, besides my books of course, which makes me sound rather pathetic, I now realize."

Laura chuckled as she replied, "Not exactly pathetic; more like lonely."

After a few more minutes of chatting, I eventually hopped off my bed and turned the lights out, plunging the both of us in complete darkness. Or, well, not complete darkness—a daisy-shaped night light flickered in the obscurity, reflecting in my dark blue eyes as I curled up under my blankets. I was a bit worried that Laura would make some sarcastic comment about it, but she stayed silent as she climbed into her sleeping bag and rested dark head against one of my pillows.

Just as my eyelids were slowly beginning to droop and my mind was about to whisk away to dreamland, Laura's voice floated into my room once more, asking, "Why have you been helping me so much, Jane?"

"W-what?" I sleepily said, still trying to shake the cobwebs out of my head.

"Ever since I first came to the library, you've been nothing but accommodating to me, from bringing me coffee to letting me sleep in your own house. You don't do that with all of your customers, I know that for a fact. Why'd you do it for me?"

I took a deep breath, not even sure of what an honest answer would sound like. To be entirely truthful, I wasn't even exactly sure why I had been so determined to offer Laura a companion, which she so clearly lacked. Perhaps it was my own loneliness that drew me to her. Finally I replied, "I'm not completely sure, Laura. Maybe it's just that, if our roles were switched, I would want someone to try and be there for me. Everyone needs someone, right?"

When Laura didn't say anything at first, I turned my head slightly to glance down at her. To my surprise, the brunette was now fast asleep, her chest gently rising and falling as soft snores escaped her. Unsure if she had even heard me, I turned my back to her, allowing slumber to consume me. If I had remained awake, I would have caught her eyes instantly snapping open, flashing in the glow from my nightlight, and the smile that streaked across her sharp features.


"Jane? Wake up, darling."

A warm hand gently shook my shoulder, forcing me out of my slumber to blearily blink all about my bedroom. My grandmother, her long, silver hair pulled back into a loose bun, had perched herself on the side of my bed, her slender fingers softly rubbing circles on my back as she awoke me. Her pale blue eyes lit up as soon as she found that I was, in fact, barely awake. "Ah, there's my girl," beamed Nana as she tucked a piece of my unruly dark hair behind my year.

"Morning, Nana," I yawned loudly as I sat up in my bed. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh yes, of course," Nana smiled. "Well, your grandfather is driving me crazy, but what else is new? Anyways, you're not working today, are you?"

"No, I have the day off."

"Excellent," Nana clapped her hands together. "You can help me cook for your uncle then. I'm sure he and that boy of his have absolutely nothing in their entire kitchen, so they're probably eating out every night. Honestly, what men would do without women, I'm not sure. Is that alright with you, dear?"

"Of course, Nana," I grinned up at her as I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and got to my feet. Just as she made to leave, I caught the sight of my rolled-up sleeping bag, a set of pajamas messily folded upon it, and frowned as the memories of last night came rushing back to me. "Nana?" I called after her as she was descending the staircase to head down to the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"You didn't happen to see my friend leave, did you?"

"What friend, Jane?"

"The one that stayed over here last night, Nana. Laura Hale? You…you didn't see her this morning?" I asked, growing more and more confused. Pappy and Nana always got up at the crack of dawn every morning; surely they would have caught Laura leaving, since she obviously wasn't here anymore.

"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't," Nana popped her head in the entryway, her brow furrowed slightly in her own puzzlement. "I didn't even know you were having a friend over."

Biting my lip nervously, I replied, "I honestly didn't either, Nana, but she needed a place to stay. I'm sorry, I'll tell you the next time I have someone sleeping here."

Shooting me one last odd look, Nana disappeared from my sight. Sighing to myself, I re-entered my room and glanced around, searching for some note that would explain Laura's sudden disappearance. I caught sight of a slightly crumpled piece of paper sticking out from my stack of books beside my bed; hurriedly snatching it, I read the note, relief slowly spreading through my body as I scanned each word:

Jane,

Sorry I had to leave so early. Something came up—I'll explain later. Thank you, again, for everything. I really do appreciate it. Call you later?

-Laura

Well, I thought to myself, at least I knew that she was alright. My curiosity peaked at what on Earth had come up, but I kept it deeply hidden. Surely she would tell me later of what had happened; perhaps the next time I would be at the library? Of course, my next shift wasn't until tomorrow, after my very first day at Beacon Hills High.

Thoughts shifting to my anxiety for having to start anew at a brand new school, Laura eventually drifted from my mind as I speedily showered and dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a violet t-shirt. Of course, as I finally began cooking with my grandmother, I realized that it probably would have been best if I had just stayed dressed in my pajamas. By the time we had finished layering vegetable lasagna, simmering homemade chicken noodle soup, forming mini turkey meatloaves, and cooling chocolate chip cookies, my t-shirt had been spattered with tomato sauce and smeared with cookie dough. Suffice it to say, I was a bit of a mess.

"Why don't you go change and take all of this stuff to your uncle's?" Nana asked me as I finished washing the last of the dishes. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

Obediently I followed my grandmother's "advice" and, after changing into a dark blue tank top, bundled up the immense amount of food to be placed into my car. Just before I ran out, I kissed my grandfather on the cheek goodbye. "You alright, kiddo?" Pappy asked me just as I moved to step outside.

"Of course, Pappy," I beamed at him.

Later on, as I was driving to Uncle Jake's house, I thought back to my grandfather's strange question. I knew that he and Nana were worrying about me, since all I seemed to do was hang around the house or work, but I was perfectly fine. They expected me to have a huge group of friends already, just diving to the social aspect of high school without any hesitation. Unfortunately, they'd soon find out that I just wasn't built like that; even back in Maine, I had very few friends, preferring to just spend time by myself or, when he, on the rare occasion, wasn't working, with my father.

I had an inkling that Nana had ulterior motives to sending me off to Uncle Jake's to drop everything off; she had this strange theory that I would befriend my cousin there, who was only a couple years younger than me. Or perhaps she just wanted me to become closer with Uncle Jake, since he had been so dear to my parents. After all, he was my mother's brother, as well as my father's best friend. Pappy and Nana had thought of Uncle Jake as their second son, and had continued to, even past both of my parents' deaths. He and his son were always invited to holiday dinners and family gatherings; they were just as much as part of this family as I was.

Pulling into Uncle Jake's house, I was hardly surprised to see that his police car was nowhere in sight. After all, the town's sheriff should be out in the middle of the day, fighting the rare criminals that would venture into Beacon Hills. All that was left was an old, topless, dark blue Jeep blasting some heavy metal music that I didn't recognize, its owner soaking in the ridiculously loud music in the front seat.

Taking in a rather nervous breath, I stepped out of my car and quietly approached the Jeep, my cousin completely oblivious to his visitor. "Stiles?" I called out loudly from right beside him. Of course he couldn't hear me; I could barely catch my own thoughts. Sighing, I shoved my hand in through the open window and sounded the car's horn, its sharp note cutting through the music.

Stiles nearly jumped out of his own skin; he gazed at me incredulously with wide, dark brown eyes as his fingers fumbled with his radio. The music abruptly disappeared, although my ears were still ringing. "You scared the living hell out of me," Stiles accused as he turned his engine off.

"Sorry," I grinned apologetically. "I tried yelling for you, but you were too busy blowing out your eardrums. How can you listen to that racket?"

"Oh, sorry, Grandma," smirked Stiles as he stepped out of his car. "Would you rather I listen to Justin Bieber?"

"That'd probably be just as bad," I grimaced. "So," I began to make my way over to the trunk of my car, "I come bringing gifts."

The trunk door flipped open, revealing enough food to feed the U.S. army; Stiles instantly grinned at the sight of it all. "You sure do know the way to my heart, Jane."

"I do my best," I shrugged modestly. Just as we were beginning to transfer the food from my car to his kitchen, I couldn't help but ask, "You ready for your first day as a sophomore tomorrow? It's a very important year, you know."

"Oh yeah?" he asked as he set down a particularly heavy pan of lasagna with a loud smack onto the counter. "How's that?"

"You'll start getting those questions about what you're going to do with your life. About college and majors and your grades. It all starts here, I'm afraid. Good luck with that," I smiled sympathetically up at him.

Honestly, for someone who was two years younger than me, Stiles shouldn't have seemed so tall. Sure, I didn't have the greatest height—but at least I was considered of average height. For some reason, from my vantage point, Stiles seemed much taller than I remembered him being. Of course, only a couple months ago I had seen him for the first time in five years—he probably would have grown a few inches since then.

"Alright," I said when we finally finished moving all of the food out of my car. "You'll give Uncle Jake a hug for me?"

"Oh yeah," replied Stiles sarcastically, "I'll just give him a nice, slobbery kiss and everything."

Shooting him a look, I went to leave out the garage door when, on the tiny wooden table beside the door, I was startled to find a familiar photo of my parents gazing up at me. My father, his thick, dark blonde hair an absolute mess and his nose crooked from the countless fights he had gotten into, grinned goofily into the camera, a thin arm wrapped around his beautiful bride. The bride in question was, of course, my mother. Her long, curly, dark brown hair desperately tried to escape the classic up-do spun at the back of her head, her cerulean blue eyes, a perfect mirror image of my own, slightly bloodshot from the tears that had managed to seep through her mascara and eyeliner.

Some fools had occasionally assured me that I was the spinning image of my mother. But, I could hardly see it; she was pretty, maybe even beautiful, while I was nothing but small, pale, and plain. Sure, I had her eyes and unruly hair, but that was about it; everything else belonged to the rest of my family. "What's this doing out?" I asked Stiles, coming out of my slight stupor and glancing back at my cousin.

At first, he furrowed his brow, puzzled at my question. But, after a quick glance at the picture in hand, he casually replied, "My dad took it out a couple weeks ago to show you; he wasn't sure if had any pictures of your parents, you know, still together."

Glancing down at my beaming parents, I suddenly wished Uncle Jake was there, so I could show him my genuine gratitude for this gesture. "Well," I finally said, "tell him I said thank you." Tucking the photo into my purse, I waved goodbye to my cousin and stepped back outside, the warm air drying my moist eyes and clearing the lump in my throat.


So, that is the end of this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed the inclusion of Stiles in the end (: Thank you all for reading, and please leave behind a review!