A/N: I KNOW, IT'S BEEN FOREVER AND I AM SORRY! School just started, so that's hectic, I'm trying to plan my NaNoWriMo, and I've also been working on a new fic, which you guys will learn more about later. Also I've been working on my own personal writing
In this chapter we will have a bit more Jackson/Esther and also some Lydia and Allison. Also, links to a lot of Esther's outfits are on my Polyvore page, which is linked in my bio.
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, only Esther. Similar content and dialogue probably originated from the show
SEVEN
That night, I dreamt.
I haven't had dreams like this since before the accident. They are strange and twisted, filled with yellow and red eyes, claws and teeth, giant creature chasing us through the woods and a girl in a party dress lying on a field with two men hunched over her. It all finishes with a crunch of metal and a scream.
I bolt up in bed. The screaming isn't a person; it's my alarm clock reminding me that it's my first day of school. I was told to get to the high school early so that I could be given the tour and shown where my locker was. Aunt Mel would be dropping me off on her way to work. Groaning I rolled out of bed and walked to my closet. I picked up a soft beige skirt and black top. I slipped black heeled boots onto my feet. I pinned my hair off my face and applied soft makeup to my eyes and lips. Spinning a couple times in front of the mirror, I decided I was fine with this look and went to meet Aunt Mel in the kitchen.
"Hey honey," she greeted me.
"Morning," I said, pulling out the toaster and bread.
"Your lunch is in the fridge and all of your introductory papers are on the counter," she told me.
"Thanks," I muttered, slathering jam on my toast.
Mel paused what she was doing and gave me the once over.
"Are you okay?" she asked me.
I shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I'm worried about school starting and I had these really weird dreams last night."
"Alright," Melissa nodded. "What you need to do is relax. School will be fine. Scott and Stiles and Jackson will be there to help you out. And as for these dreams, they're just imaginary."
I sighed and she smiled.
"Now, let's go. I have work and you have and education to gain."
I grinned and scooped up my bag from the floor, stuffing the last few things I needed in it the followed Mel out to the car.
…
Honestly, this school isn't as ugly as I thought it would be. I'd seen pictures of public schools and they had been nasty. Beacon Hills High was nice though.
"Miss Leroux I presume," said a voice behind me.
I spun on the bench I was sitting on and saw a tall, black man in a suit standing behind. He had a kind face and was smiling a bit.
"Oh, um, yes," I told him, shaking his hand.
"Good. I am Mr. Roundings. I will be your principle," he said, leading me into the school.
"Now, we have your schedule and locker waiting, along with a map of the school. Your grade PE teacher has been informed of why you won't be taking his class and your French teacher is aware of why you are so advanced," he told me. "Also, your library volunteer block didn't work out so we just gave you a spare."
"That's fine," I muttered.
We walked up to the second floor of the school and down a hallway filled with lockers. We paused in front of one with the number 296 on the front. It was open and inside there was my schedule, map, books, and lock just as promised. The map had each classroom I would be in highlighted in bright yellow. I checked out my schedule and sighed. Nothing like Math first thing in the morning. At least my spare was at the end of the day.
"I guess that you'll be okay from here on out?" Mr. Roundings said.
I nodded and turned back to my locker. I figured I had time to kill so I may as well make the inside of my locker nice. I stacked my books and binders and pulled the pictures I'd brought with me out of my bag. The first one was of Scott and I when he had visited France a few years ago. I was on his back with my head thrown back laughing. He had that dopey grin spread across his face that made him look like a puppy. The second picture was Karen, Stella, and I on the first day last year. We were sitting backwards in chairs in the auditorium with our chins resting on the back of the seats. We had smiles on our faces and I remember how happy I was then. The last picture was a black and white photo of my mom and dad that was taken on their wedding day. Their foreheads were touching and moms hand was under dads chin as if she was forcing him to look at her. I knew she wasn't though.
He could never keep his eyes off of her.
I realised then that I was crying. I wiped away the tears and tried to keep the rest from falling. That didn't really work. My phone was ringing. I grabbed it from my locker and hit Answer.
"Um, hello?" I asked
"Hey," it was Jackson on the other end. "Are you at the school?"
"Yeah, I am," I told him, my voice cracking.
"Esther, are you okay?"
"No," I sniffed.
"Where are you?" he asked, sounding concerned. "I'll come find you."
"I'm at my locker. It's on the second floor in the north hallway," I replied, remembering what Roundings had told me.
"I'll be there in five," Jackson said before hanging up.
I shoved my phone back into my bag and waited, just staring at the picture of mom and dad. She really did look like me; same wavy dark hair, same brown eyes, same facial structure. The only difference was that my skin was a few shades paler because of dad's genetics.
"Esther," said a voice behind me.
I turned around and saw Jackson with a concerned look on his face. There was a lacrosse stick strapped across his back and it was then that I remembered tryouts were today. It was all Scott and Stiles had been talking about for weeks.
"Hi," I choked out.
"What's wrong?" he asked, bringing his hands to my face and wiping away my tears with his thumbs.
"Oh, just some old hurts coming back," I waved my hand, trying to dismiss the problem.
"Bullshit," Jackson told me calmly.
Raising an eyebrow at him, I turned back to my locker and grabbed my stuff for math.
"And how exactly would you know," I asked coolly.
"Because I know what you're doing," he told me, walking perfectly in stride with me.
"Yeah," I said, turning my head to him, "and what would that be?"
Jackson froze, looking straight ahead at the apparently very interesting band room door and slid down the wall, dropping his stuff next to him. I kept standing, hands on hips, staring down at him.
"You're trying to keep it all in. Pretend that it doesn't hurt you, that you don't really feel alone. That you aren't hurt every day by what's happened, even though you are," Jackson paused and collected his thoughts. "But if anyone ever figured it out, found out that you weren't one hundred percent okay, you would lie, tell them to back off. If that didn't work, you just put up more and more and more walls until you're someone completely untouchable."
I stood, shocked, in front of Jackson for about two minutes before sliding down the wall next to him.
"How do you know all that?" I whispered.
He looked at me with a small smile.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
