The Boy Behind The Glass • Stydia

8. i'll be good

C H A P T E R • E I G H T

It takes Lydia four years since moving to Beacon Hills to finally explore the woods surrounding her home. The Preserve, as she's learned it's called, surrounds the mansion like a thick blanket with a single concreted road that leads past the high, black, metal gates and through the forestry to the town.

She goes with Heather one Tuesday after school. The pair hiking the floor of the woods with their school bags and trainers on. The sun is hot, but the towering trees cast a pleasant shade over them, protecting them from the blistering heat. 

Lydia has always wondered what was so dangerous about the woods. For years, her parents have told her to never go in there alone, that it's 'dangerous'. She scoffs at them now. There is nothing dangerous about a bunch of trees and bushes.

"Do you think we'll be able to find a lake?" Heather asks, a step ahead of Lydia as she easily steps over a particuarly large fallen tree.

"Uh," Lydia grunts as she catches her foot on a root, quickly righting herself and shaking her loose curls out of her face. "I don't know. I can't remember if my father said there was one."

The only person Lydia has really got any answers out of about the Preserve has been Stiles. Considering the 12 year old lived here all his life before he was banished behind planes of mirrored glass, Stiles had apparently wandered the forest grounds around the house all the time. He was allowed out alone, at the youngest age of seven to go and explore with his older brother and their friends. Stiles had mentioned about a rich family who used to live in the woods, and Lydia has secret determination to find it.

"There's a house, though," she says. "Apparently people used to live out here."

"Woah, really? Did your dad tell you where it was?" Heather asks as she stops, waiting until Lydia catches up to her. 

Lydia falters. Stiles never told her where it was, nor if it was even there anymore.

"Uh, no," she feigns, throwing her hair over her shoulder and hurrying on with confident strides. "But I know it's here."

They walk on for a few more minutes in silence. The heat above them is smouldering, making the air stuffy and the physicality of hiking through the uneven woods even harder. 

Heather is the first to break the silence.

"What happened with Tracy?" She asks, voice slightly breathless.

"Huh?"

"Tracy Stewart, from English class," Heather repeats slowly. "I thought you two were friends."

"Uh, no," Lydia licks her lips nervously, happy Heather is behind her. "No we're not."

"You guys seemed to get alone fine on the first day,"

"It's nothing," Lydia shrugs. Truth be told, she couldn't hang out with Tracy. She needed to be cool, and so far, the cool attempt was going fine now. It's been just over a week since they started Beacon Hills Middle School, and Lydia's popularity rank has risen like the sun on a winters morning. She struts with confidence, hair in curls that bounce like her ego. The girls in the upper year smile at her now, and the swell it causes in her chest is something she can never trade.