Finding Home

Derek vs Kallee

"Who is she?" Derek asks. I stand up and Libby runs and hugs Derek's leg. Then she puts her arms out and Derek picks her up.

He smiles at her before tuning back to me. As he does he turns stone cold eyes toward me, causing me to flinch back.

Stiles steps slightly in front of me and Derek rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt her. I just want to know who she is and why she is here."

"Derek, this is Kallee. She is Libby's older sister." Scott says.

"I didn't realize Libby had any family left."

"Yeah. Same. Let's go talk in the other room for a second." Scott says looking at me.

Derek sets Libby down and she runs back over to her toys. As Derek and Scott leave to talk, I sit back down and play with Libby, giving one last glance to the spot where Derek and Scott has just left.

"Kallee why do your clothes have so many holes in them?" Libby asks innocently.

"Well I wasn't able to buy many new clothes, so my clothes got worn out." I reply, trying to find the right words.

"Why weren't you able to buy new clothes?" Libby continues to question me while making her stuffed dog jump up and down.

"I didn't have the money to. It's complicated I guess." From the corner of my eye I see Stiles watching us closely, causing me to blush from embarrassment. The moment he realizes I see him, he comes over and crouches down next to us.

"Hey Libby why don't you head upstairs to clean up before we go eat dinner?" Stiles says, tousling her hair.

"Ok!" Libby runs upstairs and I stand up, brushing imaginary dirt from my pants.

"She is a really sweet kid." Stiles say as we stand awkwardly for a few seconds.

"Yeah. She looks like our mom." I say. Our mother had the same tight blonde curls and violet eyes. I got most of my looks from my aunt who had the same brunette hair with coppery highlights and all four of us have the same slender build, as if we were built to run. In a way I guess we were. I never knew my Aunt because she died of cancer before I was born, but there was an old photo of her in Mom's drawer. The only thing I inherited from my father were my blue eyes which, if you look closely, have golden flecks in them. Libby inherited our fathers high cheekbones and I got mom's rosy cheeks and full lips. If you were to look at us you would probably never guess we were related, if it weren't for us both having the same build.

"So are you hungry? The girls and Isaac are bringing over some food soon." Stiles says and I am pulled from my thought.

Just then my stomach growls, answering the question for me. I give Stiles a shy smile.

Then Stiles leads me into a spare bedroom where he hands me a pair of sweat pants and a blue t-shirt.

"You can take a shower in there. We might start eating before you come down but I will make sure the wolfies don't eat all the food." Stiles says with a wink, then leaves so I can hop in the shower.

As the water washes away the dirt and grime I let my thoughts wander. Mostly I think about what would happen if I were to stay. I even let myself think about what it would be like to have a family. I gave up on ever having a family years ago.

Pushing away all thoughts of family and a real home, I get out of the shower and look at my reflection in the steamy mirror.

I look so frail. I have bony shoulders and hips, I can even count my ribs easily. I try to keep myself healthy and fit but I haven't been to focused on finding food recently. My high metabolism makes it difficult to keep enough weight on so I have to be more careful than I have been.

I slip on the baggy pants and shirt, the pants are to big but I'm able to cinch them up enough to keep them from falling off, mostly, they still hang loosely from my hips. I have to roll up the legs of the pants several times so that I'm not stepping on them. The shirt keeps falling off one shoulder and eventually I quit trying to pull it back up. Then I pull my now curly hair back out of my face, only to have it fall back into place.

I break out of my revere, take a deep breath, then walk out of the bathroom. Out into the great unknown.