Feral

3: Corporeal Ghosts

Jackson snorted at Harper, where she was securing her padding. "Shouldn't you be on the field hockey team?"

"Nope," she shoves herself up. "Coach said I can play. Scared to be shown up?" she smirks at him, grabbing up her helmet. 

"It's a boy's team!"

"Nope. It's CoEd now," Harper smirks at him. She walks out to the field, unbothered by the crowd's rising questions. She sets her duffle down by the bench and listens to Coach put Scott in goal. 

"Hale, you go first. Let's see if you have what it takes," Coach blows his whistle. Harper scoops up the ball, twirling the stick a moment. She rushes forward, zagging across the field before she throws the ball. Scott is half a second too slow - the ball crashes into the net. She whistles to herself, smirking. God, she loves her game.

The next player's ball is caught by Scott, and then the next, and then the next. Scott catches every single ball. Coach stands there, absolutely amazed at his newfound ability, just as surprised as Scott. Harper rolls her eyes, smiling at Derek, where he was by the bleachers. The practice goes about as smoothly as a rowboat in the ocean. There was an uprising at Scott's newfound greatness, and while Harper just wanted to play, there were almost more arguments than there was actual play. 

By the end of it, she was remarkably agitated that her play was interrupted by several things, mainly about Scott and her. Derek smiles softly as she throws her bags in the car. "Go on, pup," he tells her. She grumbles. "I know. I'll see you at home." She hugs him before taking off. He shakes his head as he gets into his car. Speculations begin about him and his relationship with Harper.

Its past dark when Harper slowed her pace at the Hale House. Derek wasn't there for once, so she pushes the door open slowly. The smell of burned wood is still harsh in the house, but also dust and ruin. She is gentle as she brushes her hand up the banister, walking towards her old bedroom. Dust falls over her as she opens the door.

The walls were a dimmed pink, caked with soot and dust. Her bed was still made - stuffed animals tucked under the blankets like she had done that morning. Her discarded clothes were still thrown upon her chair, and dolls and toys were still splayed across the floor. The light of her phone is dim but illuminates her old life. The unicorn curtains hang limp and heavy with debris. She touched the top of the dollhouse with reverence, closing her eyes. A child's laughter is infused in the old space, filling her aching soul. She kneels and fixes one of the dolls where it had toppled in the last 6 years.

She hadn't been in here since that morning, not since Laura had taken her to school. She bites her lip, moving on to the pictures on the wall. Stick drawings of her family. She touches the fragile paper gently, frowning. She looks around the room, smiling at the discarded nail polish. 

She and Cora used to paint each other's nails and gossip about boys in their classes. She sniffled a bit as she picked up the worse-for-wear grey stuffed wolf on her bed. She brings it to her nose, any scent of her family long since decaying under the whelm of burning wood. She closes her eyes, thinking about when things were easier. When it was complicated.

She thinks about that morning.

Laura bangs around downstairs - Harper's ears hurt. "Harp, let's go!" Laura shouts. Harper smoothed out the covers, leaning and kissing the threadbare wolf stuffy who rests in the middle of the hoard of stuffed animals. She grabs her backpack, tripping over a horse toy, and runs to catch up with Laura. The older wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her head. "You ready, kiddo?"

"yep!" Harper buckles herself in, looking at the house. "How come Cora can't come too?" The other girl was standing in her room window.

"She asked to stay home," Laura double-checks the buckle. Harper thinks she'll be a good mother. "She just isn't feeling super well." Laura tickles the girl before climbing into the driver's seat. At last, Derek rushes out of the house, an apple stuck between his jaws. She giggles as he turns in his seat to greet her. Peter watched from the porch - he hasn't gotten used to having a child. Not yet, maybe not ever. Luckily, the rest of the pack is there to fix the cracks. 

And then she remembers coming home. The screams, the smell of burning wood and flesh. Laura managed to get in and pull out Peter, but the rest were lost. Trapped in the basement like animals at slaughter. Her free hand balls up, claws scoring the flesh of her palm. She hisses and looks down at her hand as the cuts heal. She wipes the blood on her shorts - she never changed after lacrosse.

She turns to leave, shaking her head. Harper jumps at the sight of Derek standing in the doorway. She had been absorbed in her reverie that she had not heard his approach. "I feel like we all died that day," she says, holding the toy close. "We're just corporeal ghosts."

"Big word," Derek mentions, dragging Harper into a tight hug. "You okay?"

"I will be. Race you home?" 

"Sure," Derek sighs heavily. "Need anything?"

"Nah. I've got all I need here," she hugs Derek back just as tight. Derek sighs, placing his chin on her head gently. 

His own memories of that day are much stronger than hers - the fire, the screams, the smoke, the reek of death. For a moment, the little bubble of their grip keeps them out - it protects them. Derek kisses her hair as they break apart.

"Let's get outta here. We can talk to a contractor tomorrow about rebuilding, alright?"

"Really?"

"Really," he agrees, tucking her under his arm as they walk back to the stairs. "And maybe we can stop being ghosts for once. We're staying here. Beacon Hills is Hale pack territory."

"Good. We should get Chinese food," she says. "I missed dinner." Her stomach growls - loudly.

"I can tell," Derek laughs.