TWO

When the door clicked shut behind my sister, I let out a low breath that I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. Definitely not the reunion I had planned when mom told me Chelsea was home.

It had been more than two years since I'd last seen her. She looked the same. Her hair was a bit shorter, but still the same color. It reminded me of burnt orange peels. In high school she had always kept it dyed dark. It wasn't until she left to move in with dad that I'd gotten a real look at her natural color.

She seemed paler than I'd remembered, but mom had said she'd been through a lot in the last few days. She didn't elaborate, but I bet whatever it was had drained her of color and energy. And the milky color of her cheeks made her freckles even more noticeable.

The only attribute we shared was our dark eyes. Plain boring brown. Hers had always looked almost black thanks to the thick layers of eyeliner and mascara she used to put on before leaving the house. But tonight, they just looked brown.

I had been in 6th grade when she left and I couldn't understand why she would want to go live with him. Yeah, her and mom would fight constantly, but dad… he had never wanted us. He left and never looked back. So why would she want to be with him?

"She was bleeding." Derek's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I had nearly forgotten that he was standing there. Nearly forgot that he had me up against the wall less than 3 minutes ago.

"I know, I saw the cut." I had smelled the small trace of blood when my sister burst through the door. My newly developing super sight, as Stiles would call it, had instantly picked out the small, half hidden cut above her eyebrow. Her hair had covered it mostly. But I saw it.

"No." Derek was staring at the door thoughtfully. "It was more than that. She's hurt."

"She was smiling and…" I began but he cut me off.

"You have no idea what you're capable of now." His body was calm, but I could hear the restraint in his voice. He wanted to yell. "You need to learn how to control it so you can use it. All of it. You'd be able to sense what I sense. Smell what I smell. See what I see." he paused. "I saw you on the field today. You can't play tomorrow."

"It's my first game!" I complained. But deep down, I knew he was right. What happened at practice was dangerous.

"Play the game, and you'll regret it." were Derek's last words before he disappeared back through the window. Once he was gone, I let out a long breath. It was like all of the tension of the day flew out the window right along with him. I dropped myself face down onto my bed, letting my nose smack against the pillow.

This school year was going to suck.

The next morning I was surprised to see my mom in the kitchen before I left for school. Usually she'd be halfway to work by now. She's been picking up extra shifts ever since I've been old enough to be home alone. It's hard work, and I wish she didn't have to work doubles almost every week. But the sad truth was, she did need to work doubles. What little I made at the vet was barely enough to cover the electricity, let alone food and the mortgage.

Honestly, sometimes I got the feeling she enjoyed working this much. She loved her job, and she was good at it, but I also think it kept her mind off of my dad. It had been years since he left, but I know it still hurt her. I don't think it was so much my father walking out, but my sister's decision to go with him.

When I was younger, I never understood why she would choose dad. He was so focused on his job that he rarely spent time with us. But as I grew older, I got it.He couldn't punish her for failing grades, underaged drinking, breaking curfew or any other trouble she got herself into if he was around to notice. Mom would have been all over her.

"I'm taking off tonight." mom announced as she poured coffee into her travel mug. It was the same mug she's used for the past 5 years at least. "For your game."

"Mom," I reached out to steady the cup as the black liquid sloshed inside. "You don't have to do that." I knew she couldn't afford a night off.

"It's your first game, Scott." she smiled "of course I'm going." she capped her coffee and headed towards the door.

"Wait, mom." I called after her. My mind hadn't let go of what Derek had said last night. "Is Chelsea… okay?" I hesitated, peeking up at the ceiling as if I'd be able to see my sister through her bedroom floor. "I saw the cut on her head and she looked, I don't know…"

"Scott," my mom began in her usual calm but stern mom-voice. "Right now, she needs us to be supportive, not intrusive."

I watched her walk out the door after that. It was so unlike my mother to NOT be intrusive. She was always asking me questions about school, friends, my non-existent love life, so it made me suspicious that she wasn't being intrusive about whatever was happening with Chelsea. Maybe she was afraid that we'd push her away with too many questions.

Maybe we would.