Little Memories ; S. Stilinski ; book 1

[05]

melody

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All my life, I spent my time following Stiles and Scott on their stupid adventures. The cycle was always the same: Stiles overheard his dad talking about a possible case, he ran over to the McCall residence, begged us to tag along, and like we always did, we got in trouble. When Scott and I turned eight, our parents got a divorce. It left us devastated, but i still didn't want to leave my mom and my brother behind. My mom and dad fought over custody until an ultimatum was reached: either we move in with an aunt in Ohio, or mom gets custody of Scott, and dad get's custody over me.

I understood that as a child, I wouldn't be able to do much other than throw a tantrum. Mom lost the case, and she lost custody of me too. Dad was still required to take me to visit my brother and my mom, but that was only for whenever he felt like it. I barely ever saw them.

By the time I turned ten, I was enrolled in gifted classes. Beacon Hills wasn't my home anymore, but i still considered it my home. I went there any chance I got. It's where mom found out she was having twins, where my mom gave birth to us, where we were raised, and it's where mom was ripped apart from her daughter.

By the time I turned thirteen, I was eligible to attend Éléonore Paré's School of the Arts in France. Mom was more than happy to help me land a scholarship. She asked my teachers for letters of recommendation, and helped pay for what the scholarship didn't cover. She understood I wasn't happy living with my dad. I love him, don't get me wrong, but he was never around. He neglected me. He drank sometimes, and he was always on a case.

Sure, I felt bad leaving my mom and my brother behind, but if i wanted to get away from dad, I needed to take a break from my brother and his sarcastic best friend. Besides, time in Paris gave me time to sink my feelings for Stiles.

That's why i left. I left to try to start over with mom and Scott. I didn't mean to leave for that long. I was only going to stay for one year, but them opportunities rose, and one year turned into two, and then three. When those were over, I was printing a ticket for a flight back to Beacon Hills. I still haven't called my dad and told him I'm home, no matter how many times mom has told me to call. I'm scared, and I want time with my friends, and with my family before I'm ripped away from them again.

I'd do anything to stay with my mom and Scott, which is why i sat in the back of Allison's car as we followed my brother and Stiles' bus to a cross-country meet.

I stayed for my brother and my mom. I stayed because I missed home.

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"Okay, explain to me why we're following my brother and his best friend again," I asked Allison as she studied the bus a couple of cars in front of us. She didn't want to admit we were following them, but we definitely are.

She glanced at Lydia and then back at me, "Because after what happened I'm not letting him after my sight. And by the way, this all started when he came knocking on my door," Allison told us. Me and Lydia looked at each other, but said nothing.

"What?" Lydia said, breaking the silence.

Allison took an awful long time to answer, almost as if recalling the previous events. My stomach felt hot, and the pain spread past my stomach and into my ribs. A flash of images passed through my mind. My head was pounding, and just like in the library a few days back, I was struggling to breathe.

"Oh my God, Allison, roll down the windows. Melody can't breathe," Lydia panicked. Allison was beginning to worry. She tightened her hands around the steering wheel, "Allison, roll down the windows!"

"I'm fine!" I shouted, "I'm okay, I feel better."

Lydia sighed, 'Gosh, you scared me. Are you sure you're okay?"