𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐓 | 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄:
𝐆𝐎𝐃! 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐋
𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

Aubrey Hart sits perched on her old desk chair, parts of the stuffing rubbing against her exposed calf from her orange tabby ripping it open. The thin wireframes of her glasses push against the small stud in her right nostril, creating an uncomfortable tugging sensation, as she stares down at the last few pages of her book. Her reading is oh-so rudely interrupted by faint tapping sounding from her window pane.

Rolling her eyes at the familiar sound, Rey folds her page down and walks over towards the window, its sill covered in house plants and her precious cat asleep in the only free spot. She slides the window up – the screen long gone – and lets the chilly January air fill her room as she sticks her head out the window, looking down to see (unsurprisingly) her best friend Stiles Stilinski.

"Stiles, what do you want?"

"Sunny," he begins what sounds like a prepared elevator pitch. The usual flailing of his arms is jerky as if he's trying to contain his excitement to not wake up her dad. "You're gonna love this – I promise."

Rey's stare softens at the use of her childhood nickname, the one Claudia had given her years ago. But she still has to be some sort of voice of reason with Stiles. "Stiles, if my dad sees you on his front lawn –"

"Yeah, yeah, he'll kill me and get away with it because he's a lawyer ... blah, blah, blah," Stiles mocks her with a high-pitched voice before shoving his hands into his pockets with so much force that he almost falls flat on his face. "Listen, Sun, you're gonna love this ..." he pauses for dramatic effect, watching as she leans out of the window slightly in anticipation. "There's a body in the woods."

Shock clouds her face for a minute before it's been replaced with excitement in the blink of an eye. Stiles can see her bouncing on the balls of her feet from his spot a story below her in the dark. "You're kidding!" She lets out a smothered laugh as one hand covers her mouth and the other runs through her honey-colored hair. "A real, live murder!"

"That's not even the best part!"

"Well, don't leave me hangin'!"

"You gotta come down to find out!"

"Stiles, give me like five to change, and then I'll be down."

Rey darts around her room, exchanging shorts for leggings and her oversized SAVANNAH, GA t-shirt for a stolen sweatshirt and her two-year-old winter coat. She quickly pulls on her white converse, not bothering to lace them in her rush. She shoves a flashlight, a blueberry granola bar, mace, and her phone into the large pockets on her coat. She gives her barely awake cat a quick kiss on the cheek before clambering over the numerous plants and sliding out of the open window and onto the roofing covering the patio below.

"Just jump, Rey!" Stiles whisper-shouts up at her as she walks towards the edge of the roof to lower herself onto the dead lawn. "I'll catch you!"

"Ha!" Rey breathes out as she lowers herself with the grace of a ballerina onto the worn and wooden railing below. She jumps the three feet to the ground, landing in front of the boy with an umph, her wavy hair bobbing and her hand reaching up to push her glasses up her nose once more. "Experience would suggest differently."

They start the short walk around the block towards his powder blue jeep held together with duct tape and dumb luck. Stiles' hands fly out in front of him to defend himself against her accusation, "hey! I was the one who broke my arm and had to explain that to my dad. Who, by the way, didn't believe that washing machine story!"