The Shining ¥ Teen Wolf

six

"Winnie, did you-"

"Where're the car keys?" Dressed in dark skinny jeans, a black and red flannel and black platform ankle boots. Her hair was lightly curled with the sides twisted back, her makeup done up with winged eyeliner and natural eyeshadow. Her black leather shoulder bag was with her and she wasn't much for talking.

Aaron, in his usual attire of a suit, sighed lightly. He slid two pairs of keys across the island in the kitchen. "Ford Taurus or Chevy Malibu. Black Ford, red Chevy."

"Years?" Winnie asked, navy painted nails holding her phone idly.

"Both newest models," Mr. Jones informed, sipping on coffee.

"Chevy." Winnie halfly looked at him, taking the Chevy keys and heading for the garage. "Bye."

"Winnie-"

"I don't want to be late," she flatly said, leaving the house. With annoyance in the way she moved, she went to the red car and climbed into the driver's seat. She stayed still for a moment, breathing in as she closed her eyes.

She didn't want to be mean to her dad, but this was also a cruel punishment.

Winnie gave up on being guilty, wanting to get school over with. She put the keys into the ignition and brought the vehicle to life. Pressing a button on the key chain, the garage door on her side rose up and allowed her passage out. Jabbing on the radio, she reluctantly followed the GPS to Beacon Hills High School.

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When the life you live is unusual, there is no doubt a difference in that person from the plethora of painfully normal people in the world.

That, over anything, has to be a fact.

But there are different kinds of different, naturally.

Per say, moving every 2 1/2 years due to being the kid of an Air Force major is different from someone who grows claws and fangs and is under the sway of the moon.

Those who are painfully boring want to be different while those who have to deal with anything unnatural want to be normal.

Winnie fell under the category of wanting to be normal.

She desperately wished for it, but no matter how much she wanted it, it would never happen.

This, of course, was all racing through Winnie's mind as she sat in the parking lot of her new high school.

A bell had already gone off and Winnie was trying to figure out a lie of why she had to move to Beacon Hills.

Literally anything would be better than saying she got caught out at a party and moving to California was her punishment.

Giving in, Winnie put the car keys into her bag and headed towards the school. She noticed the cop car, but what caught her attention was the cops coming out of the school with a curly haired boy in their grip.

Winnie's pace slowed, her breath knocked out of her.

It was him.

It was Isaac Lahey, the boy from her paintings.

A barely audible swear left her lips, unable to look away.

Isaac's head turned, catching Winnie's eyes before being forced into the patrol car.

Before Winnie could collect herself, the school doors opened again.

Tanned with pushed up hair, another boy was frantic and stopped dead when he saw Isaac in the cop car.