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Lydia walked through her mother's house, where she loved permanently versus her father's across town. In jeans and a loose long sleeve, she seemed much unlike herself.
Then again, she hadn't quite been herself in some time.
Through alpha werewolves and a psychotic English teacher, she'd been herself. In chaos caused by discovering her banshee powers, ancient ninja demons and a deadly fox, she was still Lydia.
However, now, she wasn't.
Lydia climbed the stairs up to her room, her bare feet sinking into the soft carpet. Running a hand through her hair absently, she opened the door to her bedroom with her hip. As she let out a sigh, she found her phone starting to ring in her back pocket.
The strawberry blonde pulled out her cell, answering the call from Hope. "Hey, what's up?"
"Hey Lydia," Hope greeted over her home phone - she being the only teenager for miles without her own cell phone - with a happy voice. "Any chance I could talk you into going to the tree lighting ceremony downtown with me?"
Lydia took a seat at her vanity, her mood already of kilter. "Uh," her eyes drifted towards the collage on her wall, "i'm not sure if I'm feeling up to it."
"Oh," Hope's voice grew concerned, "is everything alright?"
Lydia ran a finger along a photo of her and Allison, it taken just before she'd left for Paris. "No, I'm okay, just not very Christmasy tonight."
It was a half truth, however, She wasn't okay, and it was causing her lack of holiday spirit.
For a month exactly, she'd not been okay.
For a month Allison Argent had been dead, and for that month Lydia hadn't been okay.
"Are you sure?" questioned Hope with slight doubt in her voice.
"I'm sure," Lydia lied with a fairly convincing tone. "I think I'll just stay in for the night, maybe go to bed early."
"I hope you feel better," said Hope sweetly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you," Lydia repeated. "Bye, Hope."
"Bye, Lydia."
Lydia drew the phone away from her ear, plucking a photo of Allison out of the collage and raising it to eye level as she set down her cell.
"I'm sorry, Al."
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"Someone's in a hurry," Scott barely caught Lydia at her locker at the end of school the next day, able to sense the banshee had been off the entire time. "Everything okay?"
"I'm fine," Lydia hurriedly said without meeting his gaze, swinging her bag over her shoulder. Gripping her keys, her knuckles began to tinge white. "I just have places to be."
Scott quirked an eyebrow, grabbing Lydia's arm to keep her from darting off. "Hey, what's going on, Lyds?"
"Nothing, I just need to go pick up Hope-"
"Miss Martin," Principal Taylor surfaced, motioning for her across the hall.
She'd forgotten the meeting.
Lydia softly swore, still at Scott's side. "We're supposed to talk college." She checked the time on her phone, agitated. "I won't have time to get Granger."
"I'll pick her up," offered Scott as a solution.
"I-" Lydia caved, unable to do everything at once, "okay, she's at the studio on the same street as Derek's place kind of near Stella's." She quickly pulled out a pen and scribbled four numbers on Scott's palm. "She gets done in fifteen, so you might be a little early." Beginning to head towards the principal, she glanced back and thanked Scott over her shoulder.
Scott lifted a hand as a goodbye, the other absently gripping his helmet. Fishing his dirt bike key out from his pocket, he headed for the parking lot as Lydia disappeared into Taylor's office.
The lot was well on its way to clearing, everyone wanting to get the hell off campus for the weekend. All they had to survive was a week more and they could all go free until the new year. That, and finals.
Some made the joke that finals would be the death of them.
Scott McCall wasn't one of those people.
He, instead, went to his bike and put one leg over it. He glanced to both sides of him, half expecting to see Ethan and Aiden's motorcycles. He slipped on his biker helmet, each spot empty.
Aiden was six feet under and Ethan was God knows where.
Scott brought his bike to life, taking another look at the number on his hand before making his way out of the campus lot.
Beacon Hills passed quickly on all sides of Scott, the dirt bike hitting just the right speed. Being the good Samaritan he was, Scott McCall never sped, not unless the situation really called for it.
And thankfully, nothing called for it.
Everything in Beacon was quiet for once.
Scott rode past the industrial building Derek had lived in since he'd returned to town almost a year before. He felt the urge to go, to see if Derek was there.
However, he drove on to pick up Hope.
Scott pulled up to the numbered building, large letters pointing out it was a dance studio. Putting down his kickstand, he climbed off and walked up to Joseph's Dance Academy. He felt slightly out of place, taking off his helmet as he went through the glass paned doors.
It wasn't quite a business; no legit front desk. It led off to different halls, a small labyrinth of dance rooms.
Scott glanced around, no one there to help him find Hope. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head before noticing each room had a sign marking whether they were occupied, visible without having to go completely down the hallway.
Few rooms showed signs of life, causing Scott to investigate.
Scott, approaching the last door that held an 'in use' marker, leaned in slightly to see through the small window.
Classical musical strang from a speaker system within the room, it appearing as if no one were inside for a slight moment.
A body spun into view, pointe shoes laced up to a tee as they created magic on the light colored hardwood floor.
Mirrors reflected Hope, showing every graceful move. She wore pinked tights and a black long sleeved leotard, a thin skirt at her waist.
Scott watched in a mesmerized way, amazed by Hope's dancing. He hadn't even noticed she'd stopped.
Hope was up on her pointe shoes, slightly taller than usual. Facing the door, she dropped back down onto her heels and smiled at Scott through the window.
Momentarily embarrassed, Scott returned the smile. He opened the door, poking his head in. "Hey, sorry. Lydia had a meeting she forgot about, so it looks like you're stuck with me."
"I suppose I can manage," Hope jokingly replied. "You're just in time, my session's almost up."
"Oh, I don't want to rush you." Scott, holding his helmet at his side, genuinely wanted to watch her dance more.
Hope was always captivating, even more when she moved in her ballet shoes.
The multi-talented girl gave a soft shrug, taking a seat on the floor.
Following suit, Scott did the same. "So, you dance?"
"I do, yeah," Hope said with a light smile as she did a few cool down stretches. Reaching over, she held her left foot and then moved to the right. "Since I was young I have."
"Just ballet?" questioned Scott as he sat on the floor with his palms behind him.
"Mostly," replied Hope as she started to undo her pointe shoe ribbons. "I can catch on to most styles quite quickly."
"What can't you do?" Scott admired. "Costumes, singing, acting, dancing - hell, you're even smart enough to be in college already. I can barely walk without tripping over my own feet."
Hope laughed, setting her pointe shoes aside. "Well, I don't think I can fly, but to be fair I haven't tried recently."
And for some reason, Scott felt like that was a lie.