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"So, a lot of things have changed since you've left," I almost snorted when I heard those words. "But I guess you must have figured that out already," We were on our way home.

"Well, I didn't choose to leave."

"Claire," My dad took a deep breath as if he were about to give one of those lectures he was so used to giving Stiles. "It was-"

"It was what?" I cut him off before he could get into it. "It was the easy thing to do?"

"It was the right thing to do," He kept his focus on the road.

"Yeah, well guess what? I'm the same person that went in there six years ago. Nothing's changed."

He stayed quiet but turned to look at me, momentarily forgetting the rules that he was supposed to enforce.

"Eyes on the road, Sheriff."

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

"Your brother's out with Scott for the night. You remember Scott, right?"

"The werewolf," Cameron reminded me, whispering in my ear.

"The one who bit me in the first grade?"

"Yeah," The Sheriff laughed. "That one."

I watched as he sat my overnight bag down in the kitchen. The same one that was packed six years ago, filled with the clothes of an eleven year old that I'd never been allowed access to in my years at Eichen House.

"Would you like some dinner?" The Sheriff reached for the cupboard where I remember the plates staying and pulled out two of them, ready to put them on the table.

"Actually," He stopped and looked up at me. "I was hoping to get some sleep."

"Oh, sure," He put one of the plates back before picking my bag up from where he had left it and led the way to my old bedroom. "I wasn't sure if you still liked pink," He opened the door and reached inside to switch the light on before gesturing for me to walk in. "Your brother chose the colours. He wanted to come with me to get you tonight, but Scott kind of dragged him out of the house this afternoon," He laughed taking in my reaction to the many colours my brother squeezed into the room. The room was smaller than I remembered it but much bigger than the one I'd been living in for the past few years.

"It looks . . . nice," I managed to say. The Sheriff breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, you didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"It was nothing. Besides, I thought we all needed a change after all that's happened. So now you have a change of scenery and we have you back."

"So this is permanent?" I was hesitant in asking the question.

"Yeah, kid. It is, and I'm not letting you go again."

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

"What's your name, sweetheart?" The receptionist asked me after I'd told her that I was there to pick up my schedule.

"Claire," I answered, leaving out the last name for obvious reasons.

"Well, Claire, we're expecting a few new students today, so if you'd just give me a minute," She looked through a pile of pages that she had on the table. Stopping at one, she looked up at me. "Stilinski," She said. I nodded in response. She handed me my schedule, "Have a good day, Claire."

Don't count on it.

The Sheriff had said those same words to me this morning when he had dropped me off and then laughed at my expression. Stiles was supposed to bring me today but I didn't want to be late and according to the Sheriff, he was on the internet researching 'deer-related car accidents' while I finished my breakfast.

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⏰ Last updated: Jan 10, 2017 ⏰

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