Hey there! This is something I've been doodling in the marges of my other work for a while now. I plan on going though the whole series, with very few changes to the original story. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it! Reviews are sooo much welcome, that's what keeps me going!

I don't own Teen Wolf, or anything else I might reference here.


There was a knock at the door and the muffled voice of Coach Finstock on the other side.

"Peanut? Are you still up?"

Billie opened the door to let her dad in. Bobby Finstock stood on the tresholdof his daugter's bedroom, taking in the sight. There was a mountain of clothes strewn about the floor, the closet was open and almost completely emptied onto the unmade bed. Billie's books were piled haphazardly on every surface, her backpack lay gutted near her desk and her laptop was nowhere to be seen, though he could hear music coming from it. His darling tornado of a daughter was standing in the middle of this battlefield, in her pink pajamas, with more clothes in her hands.

"What the hell happened here? The Blitz?"

Billie laughed at her father's bulging blue eyes and gaping mouth.

"No, I'm just trying to get my outfit ready for tomorrow. It's the first day of school and I want to make an effort."

"Make an effort? What for?"

Men are so thick sometimes, she thought.

"Make an effort to look better, to … be a little more social. You know, normal teenager stuff …"

She looked so eager, so fragile, standing there in the middle of a hoard of all she possessed, so clueless about her own world. Bobby shuffled awkwardly between mounds of clothes and put his arm around his daughter's shoulders, squeezing her against his side.

"That's good, peanut. I'm glad you're doing this, it that's what you really want for yourself."

She smiled at him.

"It is, and not just for school. You know, now that I have a fancy new JOB, I have to inspire respect. It's kind of in the spotlight too …"

He laughed and tapped her shoulder.

"Right! You got it like a champ. You'll be starting a career, I'm sure about it! Alright, try to get a little sleep tonight. You've got a big day coming up. Lift leaves at a quarter past seven!"

He then shuffled back to the door and out of Billie's room, leaving her to her outfit conundrum.

And what a conundrum it was! She was a mile away from her comfort zone already and nowhere near ready. Matching clothes, make-up and hairstyles were alien to her. Billie Finstock was not a girly girl!

Growing up, she had always been into sports. As if the Coach's kid could ever be 'not into sports'! Her mother had tried, with all her might, to get her 'little blossom' to play with dolls and wear dresses, but it was all to no avail. In the end, she gave up.

She would not think about her mother tonight, she would not think about her mother tonight, she would not think about her mother tonight! Wishing her here was not only useless, it was painful and frustrating. She didn't need her mommy, she just needed a friend. A friend who was a girl and who knew about girly stuff. Too bad Billie didn't have any of those in stock! The only girl she could call right now was Erica, and she was even less in touch with her feminine side than Billie. There was no way around it, she'd have to wing it.

The sports bag first. Running shoes, clean socks, sports bra, deodorant, hair ties, leggings and a long-sleeve shirt. Maybe a hoodie? Naaahhh, too warm for running. Oh, my earbuds! With one good thing done, she moved on to her backpack. She was very aware that she was wasting time and pushing back the hair-pulling and decision-making, but what the Hell! A different notebook for every class color-coded obviously, a binder, post-Its galore, pencil case, pocket hairbrush, water bottle … The reading book would go in last minute tomorrow. Did I pack my locker stuff already?

Almost an hour later, the backpack was closed, the clothes were mostly back in their drawers, and the room looked like only a minor air raid had happened. But Billie still was at a loss as to what to wear tomorrow. I should just give up and go starkers, she thought, then laughed at the mental image that popped up. That would be one Hell of an entrance! Well too bad, she decided. It was too late to make any decisions now, she still needed to sleep before the very big, very long, first day of the school year.


"Come on Dad, let's go!"

Billie's voice, a squeakier and shrillier version of Coach's voice, rang through their house in the early morning. Bobby came down the stairs, still fixing his collar.

"Can't believe I ended up with a kid who can't wait to get to school. I should have you committed" he grumbled as he grabbed his car keys on his way out.

"Hey, you know I have to deal with both locker rooms this morning, right? While you get to sit in your office with your morning coffee" she called out as she headed out the door (Coach turned back at the mention of coffee but she was already holding up his thermos), "I will be on my hands and knees, scrubbing the lockers. Count your blessings, mister!"

Coach gratefully grabbed the silver container and could hear the beloved coffee swishing inside. He unlocked the car and put his bag in the back, while his daughter did the exact same movements on the other side with her own sports bag.

"It's all part of the job, peanut."

She closed the passenger door and they backed up into the street.

"I know, I just wish teenage boys didn't smell so bad."


Billie Finstock had gotten the assistant-coach job at Beacon Hills High over the summer. The job had been vacant for a few years now, ever since Coach Lahey left. Truth was, not many people were capable, or willing, to work under Coach Finstock. Billie's had probably been the only resume the principal got for the place. He was nice enough to give her a real, honest job interview. She suspected her nomination had less to do with her skills than with her ability to calm her father down, but she nailed the job (and the salary) anyways so who cared!

Part of that lovely job was to keep the locker rooms clean. The janitors mopped the floors and took out the garbage alright, but everything else was her responsibility as Assist. So while Coach was in his office, preparing his first classes, she was cleaning the benches, sanitizing the equipment, and power-washing the lockers, all the while singing Marina and the Diamonds at the top of her lungs. Bobby was not very comfortable hearing her singing 'I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch' but at least she did it outside of school hours. And at least she's out of her Shakira phase! He shuddered at the memory. He had to admit she had done a pretty nice job and the lockers smelled of fresh evergreens afterwards.

Billie ended up getting ready for school in the girls' locker room. After overthinking everything about her outfit, she had given up. But then she found a rather cute, high-waisted black skirt at the bottom of her closet, lodged between her camping stuff and her old photo albums. It must've been her mother's. Amazingly, it fit. Not too far from it, she had found her old blue knit sweater. It had been made by Grandma Finstock a decade ago but, blame it on the old lady's cataracts, it was Billie's size now, if a little too cropped for today's fashion. After finding these two, the rest almost magically fell into place. Black suede ankle boots, a black bow in her hair, minimal make-up, and voilà!

It's not like I could do anything more than minimal make-up anyways, she thought as she almost took her own eye out with the mascara brush. The only daring choice Billie had made was a dark pink lipstick. She looked herself over in the mirror and sighed, it'll have to do.

A few heads turned when she walked in the main corridor. Nobody had ever seen Finstock Jr in a skirt, let alone with make-up! Those who knew of her saw that as a rare sighting, like the Loch Ness monster. But most students were too busy finding their lockers, or chatting about their summer, to care much. Two of them, McCall and Stilinski, were just coming in through the doors. Those boys were permanent fixtures on the Lacrosse bench, so she was quite friendly with them.

"… dragging me down to your nerd depths? I'm a nerd by association. I've been Scarlett-nerded by you." Stiles was ranting about something or other, as usual, when she came within earshot. She came over to them quietly. Scott saw her but said nothing, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Howdy boys!" she said, right into Stiles' ear. The nervous boy jumped a mile high while his friend laughed out loud.

"Hey Billie, nice look" said Scott, twirling his Lacrosse stick in his hands.

"Yeah, hey Billie … Woah, Billie!" Stiles raised his head and did a double-take, his buzzcut head bobbing on his neck. "You look, woahh … yo-you look … like a girl!"

"Wow, noting gets past you, right Stiles?" she answered with a dramatic eye roll. "So, are you boys gonna warm the bench with me again this year? I still have my card deck, we can play poker…"

"Yeahh, looks like it's just gonna be you and me this year, Finstock. Scotty here says he'll make first line!"

Bille looked at the shaggy-haired boy, skeptical.

"Oh really, and what does your inhaler say about that, huh?"

It was notorious that Scott McCall needed his inhaler just to tie his sholaces.

"I've trained all summer for this. I know I can make it, I'm ready."

His determined look broke Billie's heart. Poor kid, he really wants it sooo bad!

"Well I hope you do" she said sincerely. "I'll tell Coach to keep an eye out for you."

They each went their own way, separating with a quick wave or, in Stiles' case, a mock military salute.