Eloise Howard is the new girl with a dangerous curiosity and hot-headed temper.
Isaac Lahey is the boy that has a knack for making her blood boil.
Long story short, they're both stubborn and it's complicated.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
...
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06. life's already so goddamn weird
ﾟ. : ･*: ✧ ｡･:* : ﾟ
Eloise had a plan.
She had come up with it yesterday evening while still stuck in the hospital for medical observation and then she worked on refining it this morning after being discharged.
Eloise's plan-making had been momentarily put on hold while her adoptive father was yelling at her. It had begun the moment he picked the teen up from the hospital entrance and unnecessarily continued until the car reached the front driveway of their house, where Mr. Howard quickly pulled up and dropped her off before racing off back to work.
The reunion had been short and sweet, no 'I'm so glad you're safe' or 'we were so worried about you'. It was mostly her father berating her for causing a scene and nosily getting in the middle of something that didn't concern her. As if Eloise had gone out at the beginning of the night with the sole purpose of looking to get attacked by a fake officer at the sheriff's station, painfully concussed, and wind up surrounded by a group of drugged-out hairy super-humans.
Which Eloise wanted to clarify to her father, that she most definitely had not been.
But it was easier to stay silent, to keep from adding fuel to the man's unpredictable fiery rage. So she sat there silently in the passenger seat, continuing to take every insult, every empty threat, every reason why she was such a terrible excuse of a daughter.
But in that silence, Eloise was planning and calculating, going over exactly how she was going to approach. She had to be tactile and resilient because the Stiles would probably initially lie about the confrontation, if her slivers of memory from the backseat of the car ride to the hospital were sound. She would wait until after their shared economics class with Coach Finstock to ambush him, trapping him in the dead end hallway where the classroom was positioned. Then she would intellectually lay out the unexplainable facts of the night as undeniable proof to whatever mess he was involved in, and he would reluctantly explain whatever the hell had actually happened.
Eloise had a plan.
When she had arrived at school later that day and found Stiles casually walking down the hallway during the lunch period with Scott at his side. The pair at the opposite end of the hall were laughing and chatting carefree with one another as if everything was completely normal. Watching them happily chatting together sent boiling anger rushing through Eloise's system. And then, that plan she spent all yesterday afternoon and through this morning meticulously crafting to perfection, flew out the metaphorical window in a fit of white-hot fury.
"STILES fucking STILINSKI!" She roared, stalking towards them.
It felt satisfying, in a dark, totally sick kind of way, to see fear flickering in the boy's wide brown eyes. His face was sheet white, the surprise of seeing her fully functioning so soon after being admitted to the hospital with suspected severe brain trauma visibly slapped across his face.
