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Chapter 2
After six classes where she constantly yelled to be heard, her throat was burning by closing time. It was around 6:30 when she got the studio cleaned up and was headed to the back room to gather her things. The neat bun at the top of her head was beginning to make her head ache, so she reached up and pulled out a few pins as she walked, and her black locks came tumbling down, resting just above her collarbone. She ran thin fingers through the ivory strands and let out a huff when she had to bend down to retrieve her cardigan on the floor, which she lost sometime during the afternoon when it got too warm to wear it while instructing.
Dancing always strained at her muscles, no matter how long she had been doing it. But the straining feeling was more like a tingle after a while. Over time her body had adapted to the training and cardio that dancing required. Most would think that she would be all muscle, but it's all skin and sharp bones. Sometimes it was harder teaching the older kids, around twelve and thirteen, because when Daisy looked at the girls, she thinks that they could end up looking like her; awkward and bony and opposite of athlete.
She dropped her cardigan on top of her bag as she passed it and slipped, more like flopped, into one of the chairs in front of 's desk. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, lounging comfortably while she listened to the rhythmic sound of the elders typing away at the computer.
"I registered for school today," the pale girl started, "they told me I start on Monday." With her eyes still closed, she didn't expect a howl of excitement and the air being sucked out of her when the woman jumped on her in a crushing hug. "Oh, Child, how exciting! I'm so happy for you!" Ms.J pulled back and Daisy could see just how proud the elder dancer was of the younger one. It made the teen smile to realize that someone here cared about her. They sat like that for a second, sharing the chair together and living in the moment.
The weekend passed rather quickly, with her days being booked with classes and her worrying about her first day at Beacon Hills High. Monday came and then Daisy found herself standing in the office of her new school, toying with the hem of her black skirt. She had work after school, so underneath the skirt was her black unitard and pink, close to flesh tone leggings that looked more white against her slightly tan skin. On top of her unitard was a dark blue button up and her favorite peach sweater. Her binder was propped up on her hip and her dance bag was resting on the other hip. The old receptionist had been replaced with a red haired woman. She scared Daisy and as soon as she received her schedule, locker information, and ROTC uniform, she booted out of there and scurried into the busy hallway.
People started to give her odd looks and that only made her move faster, clutching her books to her chest. She was walking for less than a minute before everyone around her stopped and stared at an entrance down the hall. Daisy pulled her glasses from her pocket and slipped them on and two rather beautiful girls came into view. One was a kind of ginger with a form fitting dress and the other was a brunette with an outfit sort of like Daisy's. The brunette whispered something to the other, and the girl stared in fear at everyone who stopped, then put on a "look" and strut down the hall. The brunette followed her with a smile.
Daisy started moving before anyone else did, leaving her glasses perched on her nose as she moved down multiple hallways, trying to find her locker. Now that the other two girls were out of sight, bystanders attention was directed toward the dancer and she refused to make eye contact.
She hated being the center of attention.
Her bottom lip found its way in between her teeth, chewing on the flesh in embarrassment. Daisy reached her locker in a matter of minutes, and shifted her weight from side to side as she entered the three numbers into the lock and pulled down. The heavy piece of metal came down and she flipped it off and back on with ease when the locker door opened. She pushed her glasses to the top of her head, her loose side bangs getting pushed back. Daisy rubbed a hand over her face, dumping extra books and her clothes for gym, since she wasn't taking a physical education class until tomorrow. She kept the ROTC uniform though, because that was one of her classes tomorrow and she wanted to see how well it fit. With a sigh, she closed her locker and noticed those two girls from the door were hanging out by a locker a few down from her own. Daisy averted her eyes before they noticed her looking and rushed to her first class, Chemistry.
She got there in a matter of minutes, about five after the late bell rang. She knocked and the teacher, a grumpy looking man with glasses, looked up from his writing on the board. He strode over and opened the door for her. "Are you the new girl?" A nod. "You're late." Another nod. He moved aside and let her in to the room and Daisy stood in front of the class, moving her glasses from her head so they perched on her nose once more. She noticed the boy she bumped into on Friday and looked down when he looked at her in surprise.
"Class, this is.." the teacher looked at a paper on his desk, "Daisy Daniels. Please welcome her and help her out if she needs it. Ms. Daniels, you can sit down behind ." He motioned to the boy she recognized from Friday and the girl inwardly groaned before nodding and shuffling down the isle and sat down quietly, back straight. People watched her every move, even the two boys in front of her turned around to briefly look, it was terrifying.
The teacher went back to writing and the boys in front of her went into a private conversation before Stilinski whipped around and asked a boy behind Daisy where some kid named Jackson was. Danny, the boy in the pink shirt, whispered back, "In the principals office, talking to your dad." Stilinski looked freaked.
"Turn to page 74," the teacher said, back still turned. Daisy did so, but her head snapped up when she heard a girl laughing.
"Who in the hell did that?"
The boys in front of her pointed to each other, but really Stilinksi did it, Daisy noted. The teacher sent them both to the office and the dancer went back to taking notes on what was being taught. The boys never came back.
The teen didn't see either of the boys until after dance class, which she tried her best not to show off in, or her math class. It was last period and she was in history, when she looked up from her paper and she made eye contact with someone. He had brown hair, blue eyes, and smiled at her when she saw him staring. There was a camera bag next to his chair.
His smile made her cringe.
Daisy quickly averted her eyes and looked around the rest of the room and saw Stilinksi. His friend was no where to be seen and she noticed his leg was shaking impatiently. She tapped the end of her pencil to her lip, almost in time with his shaking leg. When the teacher started speaking, the dancer abruptly sat up straighter and stopped tapping on her lip, her hand poised above her notebook, ready to write.
"Now...class," the older history teacher started, pausing in between every few words, "it's that time of year again... Where we have our...yearly...project." A pile of white papers was suddenly sat on Daisy's desk. She took a packet and turned around slightly to hand the pile to the person behind her.
She zoned out once she heard collective groans, eyes quickly skimming over a few of the pages and only caught the words "partners", "government", and "after school". She put her chin into her hands and huffed, absently doodling on the corner of her page. She looked up, though, when she heard a chair scraping up to her desk and a tapping on her hand. The teen startled and looked up quickly, blinking a few times in confusion when a cute, mole- covered face met her gaze. He gave her a half smile.
"Uh, hi, Daisy right?" A nod. "Yeah, ok, uh, so I'm your partner for this project...thing." He gestured to the board, where the girl looked over to and saw her name next to the word "stiles".
What the hell was a "stiles"?
He extended a pale hand. "Stiles, nice to meet you, I guess." Daisy took the hand in to her own, which looked rather dark in comparison, muttering an introduction.
The period went by quickly, and soon the bell rang. The two surprisingly worked well together and had managed to plan most of their project. Daisy stood and pushed her notebook and stray papers into her dance bag. She pushed her pencil behind her ear and pulled her bag up to her shoulder. "Do you want to work on this after school?" Daisy asked when Stiles stood too. Even though she had work, the dancer had at least half an hour before she needed to head to the studio. Stiles winced and rubbed his hand over his face. "I have detention with Harris. I'll see you tomorrow okay?" He slung a strap over his shoulder and started walking. Daisy nodded, walking in the opposite direction. Her classes didn't start until three, and it was just past two, so the dancer took her time walking down the side of the road and toward the studio. She had the 5-7 year olds today, and they were a little less rowdy than her younger classes she had on the weekends. She got there just after 2:30 and went into the back into the office while her replacement finished up the day classes. She pulled off her skirt and unbuttoned her blouse and laid them on the chair so she was only in her dance clothes.
With practiced and nimble hands she blindly pulled her hair up into a perfect pony tail, wrapped it up into a ball, and pulled a second hair tie over it so the bun stayed in place.
Her classes started, and then ended, and by six she was buttoning her blouse back up and getting ready to clock out. grabbed her just as she was leaving, demanding that she buy her dinner in celebration of starting school. She made Daisy tell her all the "gossip" that kids these days were talking about over salads and iced teas.
Daisy didn't get home until eight.
It was the next day that Daisy heard of the boy from her school that was arrested for his fathers murder the day before, and escaped the same night. Weren't small towns supposed to be cute and safe and with, like, zero crime? Apparently not. There were murmurs of the story all throughout the halls when she walked into the building that morning. gave her the day off, so for once Daisy wore regular underclothes instead of her dancing ones under her soft blue t-shirt and faded blue jeans. On top was a thin black hoodie with too long sleeves. A silver plate of a dog tag lay flat on the dancers chest, heavy and big and out of place on a teenage girls body. The small heels of her boots clicked with each step and the dancer let out a huff as she reached her locker and worked out the crick in her neck, acquired from her heavy bag digging into her shoulder. Her first class of the day was gym, so she pulled out the shorts and tank top that had been left in the locker the day before and left her chemistry and math books.
By the time she had changed clothes, she felt extremely uncomfortable. The shorts felt too short, even though she danced in skin right clothes, and the tank top; with nothing to fill it, sagged slightly. Last minute, she decided to throw her black hoodie back on over the uniform, self conscious of her lanky body and scarred arms. The chain around her neck stayed on, but now tucked under her clothing.
She left her books in the locker room and headed up to the gym area. There was a rock wall in the middle of the room and teenagers crowed all around it. Others were still trailing up from the locker rooms, chatting happily with their friends.
The pretty brunette from yesterday and Stiles' friend were pulling on harnesses. Daisy's dark eyes scanned the crowd, crossing her arms over her chest and biting her lip, separating herself from the others. A hand touched her shoulder from behind and she didn't jump, no matter what anyone else says. She whips around and Stiles barks out a laugh at her surprise. They slip into an easy conversation, making plans to work on their project after school. "Nice shirt," the dancer remarks, gesturing to Stiles' blue tee shirt that had the word 'stud' over a picture of a muffin. It was really dumb, but in a cute way. Stiles rubbed the back of his buzz cut and said a thank you. Daisy looks up at the rock wall and notices the two climbing seem to be having a sort of competition. That is, until, the brunette reaches her foot over and kicks the boy off of the wall. He sails down and stops just before slamming into the floor. Daisy tries her best not to snort, and Stiles grins down at her when he hears her laugh. She hears him mumble about wolfy-senses and calling Scott dumb. The dancer guesses that the boy that just fell's name is Scott.
"You know, Mcall," Finstock starts, sitting down on the mat where Scott almost met his doom, "your pain gives me a special kind of joy." A laugh follows. He stands quickly. "Alright! Next two!" His eyes scans the crowd and Daisy tries her best to not shrink next to Stiles. "Stilinksi, Erica, lets go!" Stiles looks over at a rather ragged looking blonde, bites his lip, and rushes to the wall.
The blonde, Erica, stares up at the wall in what looks like fear.