❝I'm overwhelmingly human. Sorry to disappoint.❞
Luna Flores hasn't had an easy life. And after moving to Beacon Hills, it isn't about to get any easier.
Forced to uproot her family's life in Arizona, Luna hopes to find respite in the unknown, quie...
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THE LOCKER DOOR heaved open with a creak, Luna's thoughts ruminating in her head with a crease that worried her thick brows.
She only unscrunched her face when she caught sight of her reflection in the small magnetic mirror pressed to the back walls of her private compartment, next to an already forgotten miniature whiteboard with her scribbled schedule and class times. She lightly tapped her forehead, relaxing it, reminiscing her mother's voice speaking to her in a faint murmur about wrinkles, before placing both hands on the sturdy base of the locker near one of her thrown in textbooks. Her tan fingers curled around the metal, where the deep blue paint had chipped off long before she ever arrived to town.
The meeting with Ms. Morrell had been interesting, to say the least. Troubling, if Luna dared to go even further.
Ms. Morrell had started off their biweekly sessions relatively normal: all conversations had consisted of credits transferring, AP and honors classes, schedule issues, and the small dash of emotional counseling that Luna was sure had been insisted upon by her mother. Still, all basic transfer student things within the realm of normal. However, the guidance counselor seemed to be pushing more with each and every meeting — not necessarily in a bad way, but in a curious one.
Perhaps Luna was just being paranoid, and after Derek had broken into Scott's room the other night to threaten him, she had all the reason to be; but sometimes it felt like Ms. Morrell knew something she didn't. Which really made a dent in the whole honesty and confiding element of their sessions.
"You okay?" A voice next to her made her nearly jump out of her skin, skin clamping further down onto the ridges that held open her locker door before she caught a glance at who had scared her.
Isaac Lahey stood there, hands raised up to show he meant no harm. One of his hands held a Black Panther comic book, tucked nearly in between the pages of Basics of Biology. "Sorry. I feel like every time I bump into you, I scare the shit out of you."
"It seems that way," she laughed politely. "It's not you, I just have a habit of—"
"Completely blanking out," he finished for her, bluntly, lips pressed into a straight line, though his tone had no harm or teasing behind it. It wasn't an insult; just a fact.
"Might as well consider us best friends at this point," Luna replied, her heart rate returning to normal after seeing his face and the harmless expression plastered onto it. "Considering you've already seen me almost shit myself like...what? Twice, now?"
Isaac shrugged, clearing his throat. He tried not to look so amused at her quip, holding back a loose grin. "I'm not exactly sure that a cemetery is a great foundation for a friendship."
"You're probably right," she said, sighing at his sarcasm. It already traveled freely between her and Stiles, coming as easily as a second language. "Though, not weirdest way I've started a friendship."
