The Wild Side | Stiles Stilinski | One

2 - First Day, Fresh Faces

When I woke up the next morning, it was not to the sunlight and gentle singing of birds. It was not to my alarm clock blaring my favorite song, or my mother shaking me awake with an urgent warning that I was going to be late. Instead, I woke up to an unstoppable force named Lydia Martin throwing the curtains open and marching to my closet.

"Scarlett Blake! What are you doing in bed? Come on! Up, up, up!"

My body snapped upright of its own accord, brain still bleary as I searched for my alarm clock to check them time. When I found it, I groaned and collapsed back to the pillow.

"Lydia, knock it off. I don't have to get up for another half an hour."

"Exactly," Lydia chirped—actually chirped—as she pulled a shirt from the closet, considered it, and shoved it right back in. "It's just a half an hour, so no big deal. Up!"

The only response I could muster was a low growl as I pulled the covers up over my head.

"No, no, no—you—don't!" Lydia wrenched the covers back and squashed a perfectly manicured finger against my nose. "It is your first day at your first new school, and you are going to make the best first impression this planet has ever seen! So get up, make your bed, and hop to it!"

I dragged myself upright again, my head tipping back in defeat with an exaggerated moan. But Lydia had no time to spare on my protests. She'd already dove into the closet, muttering about cleavage and clashing colors.

There was nothing to be done. I left Lydia to work in peace and dragged myself through the rest of my morning routine. I was relieved to note—as I scrubbed my skin in the bathroom mirror—that my face bore no signs of crying the night before. I'd woken up around two o'clock, wracked with panic and hyperventilating for no apparent reason. I'd cried for about an hour and fallen back into an uneasy sleep sometime around four. Looking at my face now, either I'd dreamt the entire episode, or the soothing cream Lydia insisted on was actually a little bit magic.

By the time I made it back to the room, Lydia had vanished, leaving a finalized first-day-of-school outfit in her place. I picked up the black pleated skirt and held it at arms' length, eyeing the hem warily.

"Well, Scarlett," I sighed in resignation, "you wanted someone to make your decisions for you. This is what you get. No going back now."

And so, I put on the clothes Lydia had chosen, styled my hair the way Lydia instructed, and did my makeup the way Lydia had taught me. By the time I was done, I wasn't sure if I even recognized my own reflection.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic.

I wasn't sure if it was the makeover or just a side effect of spending the entire summer with Lydia, but the girl in the mirror didn't look half as nervous as I felt. Her hair fell in just the right place. Her eyebrows arched gently over two large, brown doe eyes with dark liner and lashes. Her black skirt gave way to black stockings, tucked neatly into clean and stylish knee-high boots, and her turquoise blouse had a V-neckline that dipped lower than I normally would have been comfortable with. But as I blinked at myself in the mirror, I was confronted by one conclusion: I looked good, even if this was a leap from what I considered normal.

"Oh my God!"

Lydia appeared in the doorway, already dressed and primped for the day. Her hands were clasped under her chin, beaming at me with same pride and fondness she might show a particularly spectacular art project that was sure to win her a special award. She sped into the room, scampering up behind me so she could share my view in the vanity mirror.

"Seriously, you look fantastic. Ah! Go me!"

Lydia clapped her hands together and giggled, sounding almost unhinged. I tried to roll my eyes, but giggled in spite of myself. Lydia's laughter was always infectious.