The Absence of Truth | S. Stilinski

epilogue | the new girl

epilogue | the new girl

                     TWO WEEKS LATER, I found myself on the steps of the Stilinski residence with a casserole dish in my hands. It was evening time, and the sun was dipping below the horizon, but my family was speaking as if the day had just begun. They were loud and rowdy. Behind me, Presley helped Sarah out of the car. She was still weak from her injuries, but getting stronger each day, giggling and sending joking jabs to Presley whenever she could. Mom was standing on my left, hand poised over the doorbell.

She looked over at me, calming from her previous excitement and quickly smirking. "You dressed nicely."

I smiled like I didn't know what she was talking about. In truth, I'd worn a dress of Lydia's. She'd given it to me a week ago after digging through her extensive closet and claiming she had no use for the flowery frock.

-

The day had been hot and humid - a vast difference to the usual Beacon Hills climate. I'd been called over to the Martin household for a 'girl's day', as Lydia put it over the phone. It was mostly just us two, but Allison had stopped by to get her toenails painted and hair braided. Almost like the last month had never happened, the three of us laughed and gossiped like normal teenage girls would. The most popular subject that day was summer vacation.

"My dad and I are visiting France, I think." Allison glanced at us from her perch on Lydia's bed. "He said we needed some time out of Beacon Hills. To relax."

Slyly, Lydia and I glanced at each other. Over the last few weeks, we'd done much more than relax. I'd attended two funerals, and multiple memorials for the kanima's murdered victims. Among those lost was Allison's mother - the severe redhead Victoria Argent. We'd never gotten along too well, and that was because we'd been on opposite teams the entire time I'd known her. I'd been at the funeral to support Allison, and hadn't stayed for long after the wake.

"Well," Lydia breathed, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder and looking around the room before flicking her eyes in my direction. "What are you doing?"

I fanned my face with my hand and sipped at a bottle of water. "I'm visiting my father in New York. Presley's coming too."

Lydia pouted at me. "Boo. I'm stuck here all summer while you two get to explore the world and meet new people." She tossed a bracelet at me, then moved over to her vanity to reapply her lipstick. "New cities, new clothes, new boys..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I interrupted, placing the bracelet on the bed comforter. "New boys? Lydia, what happened with Jackson?"

She sighed and spun on her heel. "Nothing special."

Before I could ask for more of an explanation, Allison sent me a sharp look. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to ask about Jackson. Part of me was miffed. I'd spent the last four months running around trying to save his life, and I wasn't allowed to ask how he was? Lydia hummed under her breath and absentmindedly ran her hands through her hair. Suddenly, I understood. Maybe this was all for Lydia's benefit in the end. I decided to keep my mouth shut.

Lydia moved on easily. "Speaking of boys," she plopped down on my bed and patted the seat next to her and Allison until I sat down. "Can we talk about you two?"

Allison sighed. "Do we have to?"

My eyes flicked over to her. "What's wrong? Trouble with you and Scott?"

"We broke up," she said solemnly. "I just - I need time."

Either uninterested or craving something more dramatic, Lydia looked at me. "And you?"