Desiree could barely remember the rest of the night, the small talk and polite compliments about her torn jeans and "grunge" look. She wasn't even entirely sure what grunge was, but she merely nodded with a smile and equally fake yet polite thanks. Names were a mumbled, typical mess inside her head, bumping into each other. Not that she thought it would matter. She knew the key names. Thomas, Jessica, and Roger. How…average. She could hardly believe how average this marvelous house seemed. A loving couple who remained side by side with the honor roll student on the lacrosse team.
It was like a story book.
Desiree sat in her bedroom, or at least, what she thought was a bedroom. There was a bed, and it was in a room, but the room consisted of a wall of windows that overlooked a small pond, the half-moon shimmering like crystals on the black, placid surface of the water. The bed threatened to swallow her whole as she sat down on the end, sinking into the plush comforters as she peeled off her old tennis shoes. She slid them underneath the bed, flopping back, staring at the midnight blue canopy above her, eyes drifting closed before a loud knock made her jump.
"Desiree, may I come in?" Jessica asked through the door. Desiree looked around the enormous room, surprised it would be up to her. She had shared a room with six others before, and it was less than half the size of this room.
"Uh…yeah?" She hadn't intended for it to echo the questioning tone in her head, but it did. Jessica came in, looking just as stunning in faded jeans and a black t-shirt as she sat across from Desiree.
"I hope that wasn't too stressful for you," her cool hand clasped Desiree's, who jumped at the sudden contact.
"Uh...not at all," she shook her head, dark curls bouncing to form an even more sticky web of tangles that was her hair.
"Good, good!" A bright grin split across her face. "You are a strong girl," she patted Desiree's knee who jumped again. Strong. Just as that Allison girl had said. She nodded. "Very strong," she smiled. "But, I do suppose the true test of strength will be tomorrow…I hear high schoolers are about as blood thirsty as they get now," she mused, although it didn't seem to be as funny as she had hoped it would be.
"Tomorrow?" Desiree asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Of course! There is no better way to adjust to life than to jump right in. You'll find that philosophy is rather prominent in the family," she reached up, taking a curl from her forehead and studying it. Desiree's eyes widened slightly, unsure what the intention had been, before another bright, honey-like smile burst across her face. "You have the most beautiful hair…I don't imagine many have been able to tame it," she stroked the hair back into place, patting down the obscene frizz surrounding Desiree's unkempt head.
"Not really. I didn't have many homes where I had…" She thought about what word wouldn't appear whining or pathetic in the eyes of her new foster mom. A mom she might actually not mind having to look at. Of course, it was far too early to make up her mind on whether or not she would bother opening up. "…time," she decided on a word at last. "…To worry about hair, that is," she added.
"Ah, well, I've tackled much worse before, so why don't you jump into the shower before bed?" She asked cheerfully. Desiree hesitated, unsure if she should take the offer. Why not? She nodded at last, ever so slightly, still unsure why the offer of a shower seemed so friendly. Sliding off the bed she made her way towards the door. "Oh, and Desiree," Desiree spun around, perhaps a little too quickly, to face Jessica. "Grace did mention something about your medication…it sounds rather important. What is it for?" She asked, and Desiree swore she saw a flicker of impress in her eyes as she had spun.
"I'm not really sure. I never really understood," Desiree shrugged, eyes falling to the soft black carpet beneath her feet. "I've had it since I was put in the system. All I know is I blackout when I don't take it-" Her words failed her as she found herself incapable of a voice.
"Did you take it that night of the slaughter?" She asked softly, the word slaughter sounding out of place in her honey-smooth voice. Desiree couldn't find her voice past the burning lump in her throat, so she merely shook her head. "Go shower, honey," she said and Desiree winced at the name. Honey.
Desiree stepped out of the shower, unsure how to even begin to look at the tangled mess that was her hair, wetted down and matted. Of course, if this was something Jessica wanted to do, she wasn't going to deny that, not with the warm roof she found over her head. She rubbed at the misty mirror, frowning at the sharp, deep gouges running along the side of her neck. Something that had yet to fade from that night, from whatever animal that had spared her while it had butchered her parents.
Shaking her head she began down the stairs, hairbrush in hand as she followed the scent of honey and that odd flower that seemed to appear in every vase and crevice of the house. She itched at her neck as she thought of the odd smelling flowers, something about it making her nose burn.
"There you are!" Jesicca said from where she stood over a mixing bowl. She offered the batter covered spoon to Desiree as she took the brush. "Now, sit back and relax. I've tamed fur worse than this," she said and Desiree's eyes closed, falling into the first bloodless sleep she'd had since that night.
"To the wolves I throw you," Roger announced as the car came to a stop. The sleek, black, sports car. Desiree had hardly been able to pay attention to the town or the rich neighborhood or any of those around her, too busy running her fingers over the sleek leather. The cool air blowing gently. The techno music thrumming out of the speakers.
"What?" Her head swiveled around. She hadn't heard any of his rambles about high school culture and surviving the school. She had seen enough in her days to know the worst.
"I said, here's where I throw you to the wolves…" He laughed, although the laughter was short lived. "Literally," he scoffed.
"I doubt it can be that bad," Desiree rolled her eyes, and Roger let out a loud, hearty laugh, one that made him throw his entire head back as he did so.
"Right. Well, I guess here is where I'm supposed to give you some brotherly advice or something of the like, but all I can say is think carefully about who you trust," he didn't look up at her until the last word, too busy playing with his radio, although he decided upon the same station in the end.
"I see…" She said. "I take it you mean people like you?" She asked casually, studying her nails although there was nothing to study.
"You'll find us a lot less blood thirsty than the rest of the school, little sister," he said as the doors clicked as they unlocked. "So, I repeat, to the wolves I throw you," he grinned a grin that looked just like his mother's, one that belonged in those perfect family photos you got when you bought the frame.
"Right," she nodded again, shutting the door behind her. And just like that, everyone stopped, just as they had at the house, all eyes on her. Her eyes flickered around quickly, taking in each action of each person before she found herself happy with the lack of threat. Beginning up the steps, they all watched as the new girl entered the school. Following the designated path through the school she had memorized from a map, she'd just managed to open her locker before it was shut again.
"Hey," Alison appeared, hand on the locker. Desiree looked at her, wondering what other cryptic messages she may convey to further confuse her. "How much did they tell you?" She seemed slightly breathless, as if she had been running through the school.
"Tell me about what?" She pressed, leaning against the icy metal of the green lockers. Alison raised an eyebrow.
"They haven't said anything yet?" She asked, checking over her shoulder for something. Desiree followed her gaze momentarily, spotting a boy who was staring intently at the stair railing, as if trying not to appear as if he was listening. He would have been rather attractive, if his jaw hadn't have been so crooked, looking like it had taken a few too many blows. Not that Desiree was one to talk. She subconsciously moved her thick curls to block the scratches, although they were barely visible to begin with.
"No, they said they were throwing me to the wolves and to watch who I trust…but something tells me you would have a very different opinion on who that would be," Desiree went to open her locker once more, cramming the rotting textbooks carelessly into the small space. Alison's gaze swept the hallway once more before she lowered her voice.
"It's up to you who you trust, but I would suggest you think long and hard before you pick any sides," she said, suddenly agitated with the bored, uninterested tone Desiree had perfected, one that she often had confused with her actual voice.
"What makes you so wise about this?" Desiree scoffed at last, half-amused that she had sparked a reaction in the girl.
"I was the new girl this year, and if I had known what I was getting myself into, there wouldn't be half the heartache there is now," her voice was serious and full of authority, something that made Desiree's jaw lock.
"If you're referencing your boyfriend over there, I don't bother with Romeo and Juliet tragedies, but thanks for the warning," she snapped with a little too much emotion. Alison raised her eyebrows, the inner clockwork in her mind obviously ticking behind her eyes as she studied Desiree, reading into her reactions as much as she was reading into Alison. The similar minds did not click. Not in the slightest.
"You might want to get that rash checked out," she said at last, whipping out a pocket mirror. Desiree peered into it to find the other side of her neck swollen until it looked like it might explode. "What's up with that?" She asked, sounding half interested as she pocketed the mirror before Desiree could mask the embarrassing welt.
"I think I'm allergic to those flowers or something," she scratched at it, still incapable of feeling it, the skin numb beneath her fingers.
"The Aconitum?" Alison asked, sounding somewhat interested. Desiree's eyes flickered back to the boy who was suddenly not so good at masking his interest in their conversation.
"Is that what it's called?" She asked, shrugging it off. "Yeah, I guess so. But they seem to like it, so I'm not complaining," she slammed the locker, perhaps a bit too forcefully, but it signified how finished she was with this conversation, ready to escape the scrutiny.
"I wouldn't, if I was you," the boy shocked Desiree, who had failed to see him approach as he grasped Alison's hand. "That's something to keep to yourself," he warned darkly before walking away, Alison in stride. Desiree stared after them, acting as if they knew something about her she didn't know. Of course, there was a lot she didn't know. Who really knew themselves that well, anyways?