Changing Patterns

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"Talking"  'Thinking...
Important
_writing_
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    I pulled my backpack strap up my arm to rest on my shoulder, holding it lightly as I held the door open for that last remaining pack members. Cora tugs a reluctant Malia toward the door- Peter at her back and trying his best to push her forward. He'd given up on the pick up method when his back was met with relentless claws.

    "Malia Hale Tate!" I finally yelled. "Out. Know, it's only school, we'll all be there." She growled heavily but instantly fell forward and walked out the front door.

    Peter nodded thankfully and passed me out the front door. For those without licenses or working on them he was their chauffeur, a soccer mom like van was gifted to the uncle from Derek the day the Hale mansion was rebuilt. There may have been a fight that day and a dent may or may not have been pried out of the side of said van. Courtesy of one stiles Stalinski! I sighed following the man and stepped out of the house, locking the doors behind me and humming lightly.

    I quickly jog down the front steps and start toward the abundance of parked cars, many already filling with eighteen and nineteen year old students. Scott slinging his leg over the side of his bike followed by and all too close Isaac for the ride to be safe. Allison, Lydia, Jackson, and Cora pile into the reptiles car with happy smiles. Boyd and Erica already down the small dirt path in their shared topless Buick. Peter slammed the front door of his van shut with Malia, Kira, Ethan (as I'd banned him from his bike for the next week), and Aiden (who wouldn't ride without his brother) all climbed into the back.

After the simple realization that I'd be taking my jeep alone, which still runs like crap by the way, I sigh. Both happy at the quite I might receive, and sad at the alone ride I'd have to endure. I hated being alone. Which I know sounds cliche, but, on a serious note, being alone was terrifying. Is terrifying. Has been since- well since ever, since my mom died really! That's kinda how and why Scott became my well know partner in crime. Why I'm always trying to get myself involved in things. Why I was scared to leave my dad alone- only to be extremely happy that he and Malissa were moving in together.

My jeep door slams shut behind me with a heavy creek. The pack already half gone down the dirt path before I'd started my own car. A dirt path and left in the dust, only a fitting time to sneak that in, it always felt like that at least. They're all stronger, faster, hear better, see, smell, it's all better. And some with their natural fighting instincts. I'm just stiles, small, boney, weak, talkative stiles. Who shoves himself in the corner and pops back out when I'm needed. I start down the dirt road with minimal car issues and quickly catch up on the actual road, just about a ten minute drive to the school- excluding the five minutes it takes to get out of the hale property.

    Just as I reach the road my phone starts to ring, the constant blaring sends a shiver up my back as I reach the light. Quickly digging in my pocket to pull out my still ringing phone the title read dad. I easily click the green answer button and prop my phone on my thigh on speaker phone, just willing my once bouncing knee not to start again.

    "Hey daddy-o what's up!" I practically yell, a chuckle flowing through the speaker.

    "Good, and you son?" The sheriff answers.

    "Just on my way to school. Whatcha need?" I continue calmly with a sing song like voice.

    "Just calling to let you know we'll have to cancel tonight's dinner, I'm working nights, so is Malissa, so we're going to just get dinner ourselves." My father answers, a smiles in his tone.