My Brother's a What?
Title: My Brother's a What?
Chapter: One
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: OC, Isaac Lahey, Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilisnki, Derek Hale
Rating: Not really sure - PG/PG-13
Disclaimer: MTV and Jeff Davis
Spoilers: Season 2, Episode 2
Summery: What if Isaac Lahey had a sister?...Well, now he does! Annabeth Lahey was ten years old when her brother was turned into a werewolf and these are the events that follow..... I know the summery sucks, but I promise the story is better if you give it a read.
Isaac ran out of the kitchen and out of the house. His feet pounded on the hardwood floor, shaking the old structure with each step and even more as he threw open the front door before finally escaping. Right behind him was his father, hollering Isaac’s name into the night before he too left the house. He had started up his piece of crap car and drove after his son, who had sped away on his four-speed bike.
All through this, a young girl sat under the kitchen table, hugging her knees to her chest. After about ten minutes of silence, she crawled out from her hiding spot to find the kitchen in ruins. Glass and food everywhere, even a speck or two of blood by the wall. It made her stomach turn.
Slowly she made her way to the front door, a tear or two running down her cheeks. She fiddled with her arms in front of her, her long sleeves cover her hands. Her long, dirty blonde curls cover her face as she kept her head down, watching each step she took to try to avoid stepping on shards of glass with her bare feet.
The front door was wide open. Isaac was long gone and their father after him. She worried what might happen to her older brother this time.
As quickly as she dare, she went back into the kitchen and picked up the landline. What if this time he takes it too far? What if he really hurts Isaac? With those thoughts firmly in mind, she dialed the sheriff’s department, hoping the consequence of her action didn’t backlash on her or her brother.
“911, what is your emergency?” the dispatch woman asked after the phone rang twice.
“I - I think my dad’s going to kill my brother…” the girl told the woman in a quiet voice, caked with fear
“Are your father and brother with you right now, miss?"
“No. Isaac ran out of the house and my dad went after him in the car.”
“All right, I’m going to send the sheriff, but I need to know where you are, okay?”
The girl stammered her address and was told that the sheriff was on his way before the woman hung up on her. The girl placed the phone back in its proper place; she was scared that her father would return home soon and know what she had done. Not knowing what to do now, she went into the den and watched from the bay windows for any sign of the sheriff or her father.
What seemed like hours only turned out to be a handful of minutes before a couple police cruisers pulled up outside her home. It had started to rain at that point.
The sheriff ran up to the house, trying his hardest not to get wet. He, followed by some deputies, ran through the door and was greeted with the sight of the girl sitting on the couch, her knees to her chest. The sheriff came over to the girl and squatted down in front of her.
“Hello, honey. I’m John Stilinski. Can you tell me your name?” His voice was gentle and soft as not to startle her.
“Annabeth Lahey,” she told him, her voice barely a whisper.
Sheriff Stilinski smiled at her. “How old are you, Annabeth?”
Annabeth pulled her hands away from her knees and held up all ten fingers to show him.
The sheriff glanced behind him to the kitchen where his deputies were taking photos of the mess. “Can you tell me what happened here, Annabeth?”
Annabeth was quiet for a moment, the tense scene that had occurred replaying in her mind. She remembered how her brother had stiffened when he was asked how his grades where, how his blue-green eyes darted between her, their father, and his food before he mumbled his grades. Everything seemed to go downhill from there.
“Dad asked what Isaac’s grades were,” Annabeth told the sheriff. “Isaac didn’t want to tell him he was averaging a D in chemistry. Dad said he had to find a way to punish Isaac, so he said Isaac had to clean up after dinner.” A tear ran down her face and her breathing came out in short gasps. “He started throwing everything off the table. I hid under the table, hoping to avoid getting hurt. The next thing I know, there’s the sound of shattering glass against the wall and Isaac accusing dad that he could have blinded him and he’s running out of the house and dad running out after him!”
The sheriff slowly wound his arms around the girl and held her as she cried.
After a few minutes, the sheriff pulled away from the girl before helping her off the couch. He called over one of his deputies and told him to take Annabeth back to the sheriff’s house.
“Tell my son he needs to look after this young lady and that there will be a guard posted outside the house. Then I want you to put out an APB for Isaac Lahey and his father. Mr. Lahey is to be considered dangerous and his son should be taken straight to me,” the sheriff ordered.
The man nodded and carefully led Annabeth to her room to pack a bag for herself. She put some clothes in an old backpack. When she was done, she followed the nice officer out to his cruiser and watched as the rain pounded down on the windshield. She barely noticed that she and her bag were soaked.
It only took a few minutes for them to arrive at the sheriffs’ home; at least, Annabeth assumed it was the Sheriffs home. The deputy quickly got out of the drivers seat, took an umbrella out of the trunk and proceeded to open the passenger side door. Underneath the shelter from the downpour, they walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell.
There were a lot of loud noises that followed the doorbell, but it didn’t take long for the front door to be opened.
“Stiles,” the deputy greeted with a nod. “Your father sent me over with Miss Lahey and told me to have you put her up in the spare bedroom for the night and to keep an eye on her. I’ll be out here until the sheriff gets home.”
The teen that opened the door, Stiles, nodded and gestured for the girl to enter. With small, tentative steps she walked through the door into the warm, dry house. Instantly Annabeth started to shiver, not used to the overwhelming warmth that penetrated her soaked clothing and ice cold skin. Behind her, Stiles closed the door before running down the hall and opening a side door.
Annabeth just stood awkwardly in the front hall as Stiles took out a large, fluffy towel from the closet and walked back to her, draping the fluffy material over her shoulders.
“So, um,” Stiles stumbled. “I’ll show you to your room. It’s just up the stairs…so…”
Stiles quickly walked up the stairs two at a time with Annabeth slowly making her way after the socially awkward hyperactive teen. Upon stepping onto the second floor landing, Annabeth’s eyes widened with fear when she could not spot the boy. Her fear soon subsided when the teen stepped out of an open doorway and gestured for her to go to him.
Inside the room, Annabeth noticed that everything look untouched. The twin side bed that sat in the center of the room did not have any of the normal wear a regularly used mattress would. The desk stood empty at the side of the room next to the tall dresser that looked like it could use a makeover. There was a thin layer of dust that coated the bookshelf that was up against the wall opposite the desk and dresser.
“It’s not much, but it has all the basic necessities that any bedroom needs. Except cloths in the dresser or a computer on the desk or books on the shelves or a person to appreciate the solidarity that is their own bedroom…” Stiles rambled on. He seemed to do that a lot.
Annabeth looked up at the boy as if seeing him for the first time. As the he kept rambling away to chase the silence out, Annabeth took in his features. His hair was buzzed short, like he was ready to go into the military or like he was sick. His eyes, when Annabeth was able to get a good look at them, were a honey brown that reminded the girl of melted chocolate. There was a mole on the left side of his face right by his lips that just seemed to complete the beauty of his face along with other dark beauty marks that made him even more handsome.
Looking away from Stiles with a slight blush, Annabeth took one last look at the room.
“I love it,” she said, breaking his monologue. “I’ve never had my own room…or my own bed…”
She had shared a twin sized bed with her brother, who was just over six feet tall. He was a beanpole, but sharing a bed with a tall beanpole for six years tended to make you appreciate anything when given the chance to have your own space to spread your wings.
Stiles shifted from foot to foot, not knowing what to say. That had to be a first. “Um. I can lend you some clothes for now so I can throw yours in the dryer. They must be soaked.”
Quickly, Stiles left the room and ran back in with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Awkwardly, he handed them to the ten year old girl and backed out of the room slowly, throwing his thumb up to point behind him and said, “I’ll…just be…out here.”
The door closed after him and slowly, Annabeth peeled off her clothing, layer by layer. With the overly fluffy towel, she dried her body and her hair before putting on the clothes she was offered. She bunched up the wet clothing in one hand and held her backpack in the other. When she opened the door, she found Stiles standing next to the door, fidgeting.
He nervously took the soaping articles of cloth and damp backpack from her and bolted down the stairs. Within seconds, Annabeth heard what sounded like the dryer starting up.
Stiles came up the stairs again and stopped awkwardly down the hall at another door. His eyes were drawn to her arms for a moment before he moved them away and told her, “If you need anything during the night, my room is right here. Dad should be home in a few hours. He usually leaves for work around seven, and I’m sure he’ll want you to be at the station with him tomorrow.”
With that, Stiles walked into his room and closed the door behind him. Annabeth followed his lead and closed the door to her room. Unconsciously, she wrapped her right arm around her middle to hold her left elbow, wincing slightly at one of the many bruises there.
All through the night her dreams were plagued with her father and that damn meat freezer in the basement. Her father would advance on her, his hand raised as if to hit her, but Isaac would suddenly appear and take the brunt of the hit, his body bumping into hers as the momentum of the strike pushed him backward somewhat.
By five the next morning, Annabeth was awake and showered in the attached bathroom of the guest bedroom. Her clothes were folded neatly on the desk chair and her backpack leaning against it. She dressed in her usual dark long sleeved shirt and jeans.
In the kitchen, she sat with a water bottle in front of her. Once in a while she would sip from it, and it wasn’t until she heard noise from above her around six-twenty did she panic. She was in a stranger’s home, drinking from a water bottle from the stranger’s refrigerator that was more than likely bought with the stranger’s money. Was she allowed to have it? Probably not.
Annabeth didn’t have much time to dread on the subject as Sheriff Stilinski walked into the kitchen in his sheriff’s uniform. He walked over to the coffee machine to make himself a cup, glancing at the girl as she just stared at him with wide eyes, trying hard not to eye the gun that hung off his waist.
“Would you like anything to eat, Annabeth?” he asked her. “I’m sure I can whip up some eggs if you want, or a bowl of cereal.”
Annabeth gulped. “I’m fine, sir. I’m sorry I took a water from your fridge without permission.”
The girl figured if she was going to get in trouble for taking something from the sheriff, she might as well admit it and say sorry. Maybe he wouldn’t be too mad then.
He waved it off. “It’s no trouble. I can get you a glass of juice if you want.”
Annabeth shook her head. She didn’t want to be a burden to the nice man.
The sheriff sighed. “We better be heading to the station now. Stiles has school soon and you’ll be safer in a building full of police officers.”
Annabeth followed the sheriff out to his car after he yelled up the stairs for his son to “get his lazy butt out of bed and ready for school,” and was surprised to find an apple up in her lap after she buckled her seatbelt.
At the station, the sheriff left her in the recreation/break room, where she sat at a table and given a few coloring books and crayons. That kept her preoccupied for about half an hour before she got bored and went in search for the sheriff.
Slowly, Annabeth walked down the endless amount of hallways, her head down and her hair in front of her face. She stopped outside an office when she heard the sheriff talking to one of his deputies.
“Are you sure?” the sheriff asked.
“Yes sir,” the deputy answered. “The school called this morning to inform us that Isaac Lahey was in his homeroom class this morning.
The sheriff sighed. He seemed to do that a lot, Annabeth noticed. “All right, after school, we pick him up and bring him back here to be with his sister. Any word on the father?”
“No, sir. We have every officer on high alert. Everyone has his description and his license plate number. Rodriguez just took over for Sanderson on watching the home, so if he goes back there, we’ll be the first to know.”
Annabeth stepped around the corner, not wanting to hear a conversation about her father. She walked into the room fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. “Is Isaac all right?”
The sheriff looked at the girl before nodding to the deputy, who took his leave. The sheriff motioned for Annabeth to take a seat in the chair across from him.
“It seems that your brother is fine. He’s at school at the moment and we have the school officials on high alert to make sure your father doesn’t go near Isaac. After school, we’ll go and bring him here so the two of you are safe.
Annabeth nodded. “Can we go see him at practice? The lacrosse team practices every day at lunch and after school! Can we watch him before we bring him back? I’ve never seen him play lacrosse before; dad wouldn’t let me out of the house besides for school.”
The sheriff smiled and nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. You know, my Stiles is on the lacrosse team, too. He more sits on the bench then plays, but he’s still on the team. It would be a nice change to see him practice with the team than warm the bench, don’t you think?”
Annabeth smiled and laughed lightly. It was fun talking to the sheriff, Annabeth decided. He was nice and always seemed to try to get her to smile. The only other person that tried to get her to smile was her brother, and right now they were separated by the constant threat of their father finding them and the distance between the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department and the high school.
Deciding to let the Sheriff get back to work, Annabeth went back to the recreation room and continued to draw in the coloring books. For the first time in she didn’t know how long, Annabeth Lahey felt like a normal ten year old, coloring outside the lines and being overly ridiculous. Once and a while, she would giggle at the outlandish coloring of the dog or cat she just did.
Chapter: One
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: OC, Isaac Lahey, Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilisnki, Derek Hale
Rating: Not really sure - PG/PG-13
Disclaimer: MTV and Jeff Davis
Spoilers: Season 2, Episode 2
Summery: What if Isaac Lahey had a sister?...Well, now he does! Annabeth Lahey was ten years old when her brother was turned into a werewolf and these are the events that follow..... I know the summery sucks, but I promise the story is better if you give it a read.
Isaac ran out of the kitchen and out of the house. His feet pounded on the hardwood floor, shaking the old structure with each step and even more as he threw open the front door before finally escaping. Right behind him was his father, hollering Isaac’s name into the night before he too left the house. He had started up his piece of crap car and drove after his son, who had sped away on his four-speed bike.
All through this, a young girl sat under the kitchen table, hugging her knees to her chest. After about ten minutes of silence, she crawled out from her hiding spot to find the kitchen in ruins. Glass and food everywhere, even a speck or two of blood by the wall. It made her stomach turn.
Slowly she made her way to the front door, a tear or two running down her cheeks. She fiddled with her arms in front of her, her long sleeves cover her hands. Her long, dirty blonde curls cover her face as she kept her head down, watching each step she took to try to avoid stepping on shards of glass with her bare feet.
The front door was wide open. Isaac was long gone and their father after him. She worried what might happen to her older brother this time.
As quickly as she dare, she went back into the kitchen and picked up the landline. What if this time he takes it too far? What if he really hurts Isaac? With those thoughts firmly in mind, she dialed the sheriff’s department, hoping the consequence of her action didn’t backlash on her or her brother.
“911, what is your emergency?” the dispatch woman asked after the phone rang twice.
“I - I think my dad’s going to kill my brother…” the girl told the woman in a quiet voice, caked with fear
“Are your father and brother with you right now, miss?"
“No. Isaac ran out of the house and my dad went after him in the car.”
“All right, I’m going to send the sheriff, but I need to know where you are, okay?”
The girl stammered her address and was told that the sheriff was on his way before the woman hung up on her. The girl placed the phone back in its proper place; she was scared that her father would return home soon and know what she had done. Not knowing what to do now, she went into the den and watched from the bay windows for any sign of the sheriff or her father.
What seemed like hours only turned out to be a handful of minutes before a couple police cruisers pulled up outside her home. It had started to rain at that point.
The sheriff ran up to the house, trying his hardest not to get wet. He, followed by some deputies, ran through the door and was greeted with the sight of the girl sitting on the couch, her knees to her chest. The sheriff came over to the girl and squatted down in front of her.
“Hello, honey. I’m John Stilinski. Can you tell me your name?” His voice was gentle and soft as not to startle her.
“Annabeth Lahey,” she told him, her voice barely a whisper.
Sheriff Stilinski smiled at her. “How old are you, Annabeth?”
Annabeth pulled her hands away from her knees and held up all ten fingers to show him.
The sheriff glanced behind him to the kitchen where his deputies were taking photos of the mess. “Can you tell me what happened here, Annabeth?”
Annabeth was quiet for a moment, the tense scene that had occurred replaying in her mind. She remembered how her brother had stiffened when he was asked how his grades where, how his blue-green eyes darted between her, their father, and his food before he mumbled his grades. Everything seemed to go downhill from there.
“Dad asked what Isaac’s grades were,” Annabeth told the sheriff. “Isaac didn’t want to tell him he was averaging a D in chemistry. Dad said he had to find a way to punish Isaac, so he said Isaac had to clean up after dinner.” A tear ran down her face and her breathing came out in short gasps. “He started throwing everything off the table. I hid under the table, hoping to avoid getting hurt. The next thing I know, there’s the sound of shattering glass against the wall and Isaac accusing dad that he could have blinded him and he’s running out of the house and dad running out after him!”
The sheriff slowly wound his arms around the girl and held her as she cried.
After a few minutes, the sheriff pulled away from the girl before helping her off the couch. He called over one of his deputies and told him to take Annabeth back to the sheriff’s house.
“Tell my son he needs to look after this young lady and that there will be a guard posted outside the house. Then I want you to put out an APB for Isaac Lahey and his father. Mr. Lahey is to be considered dangerous and his son should be taken straight to me,” the sheriff ordered.
The man nodded and carefully led Annabeth to her room to pack a bag for herself. She put some clothes in an old backpack. When she was done, she followed the nice officer out to his cruiser and watched as the rain pounded down on the windshield. She barely noticed that she and her bag were soaked.
It only took a few minutes for them to arrive at the sheriffs’ home; at least, Annabeth assumed it was the Sheriffs home. The deputy quickly got out of the drivers seat, took an umbrella out of the trunk and proceeded to open the passenger side door. Underneath the shelter from the downpour, they walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell.
There were a lot of loud noises that followed the doorbell, but it didn’t take long for the front door to be opened.
“Stiles,” the deputy greeted with a nod. “Your father sent me over with Miss Lahey and told me to have you put her up in the spare bedroom for the night and to keep an eye on her. I’ll be out here until the sheriff gets home.”
The teen that opened the door, Stiles, nodded and gestured for the girl to enter. With small, tentative steps she walked through the door into the warm, dry house. Instantly Annabeth started to shiver, not used to the overwhelming warmth that penetrated her soaked clothing and ice cold skin. Behind her, Stiles closed the door before running down the hall and opening a side door.
Annabeth just stood awkwardly in the front hall as Stiles took out a large, fluffy towel from the closet and walked back to her, draping the fluffy material over her shoulders.
“So, um,” Stiles stumbled. “I’ll show you to your room. It’s just up the stairs…so…”
Stiles quickly walked up the stairs two at a time with Annabeth slowly making her way after the socially awkward hyperactive teen. Upon stepping onto the second floor landing, Annabeth’s eyes widened with fear when she could not spot the boy. Her fear soon subsided when the teen stepped out of an open doorway and gestured for her to go to him.
Inside the room, Annabeth noticed that everything look untouched. The twin side bed that sat in the center of the room did not have any of the normal wear a regularly used mattress would. The desk stood empty at the side of the room next to the tall dresser that looked like it could use a makeover. There was a thin layer of dust that coated the bookshelf that was up against the wall opposite the desk and dresser.
“It’s not much, but it has all the basic necessities that any bedroom needs. Except cloths in the dresser or a computer on the desk or books on the shelves or a person to appreciate the solidarity that is their own bedroom…” Stiles rambled on. He seemed to do that a lot.
Annabeth looked up at the boy as if seeing him for the first time. As the he kept rambling away to chase the silence out, Annabeth took in his features. His hair was buzzed short, like he was ready to go into the military or like he was sick. His eyes, when Annabeth was able to get a good look at them, were a honey brown that reminded the girl of melted chocolate. There was a mole on the left side of his face right by his lips that just seemed to complete the beauty of his face along with other dark beauty marks that made him even more handsome.
Looking away from Stiles with a slight blush, Annabeth took one last look at the room.
“I love it,” she said, breaking his monologue. “I’ve never had my own room…or my own bed…”
She had shared a twin sized bed with her brother, who was just over six feet tall. He was a beanpole, but sharing a bed with a tall beanpole for six years tended to make you appreciate anything when given the chance to have your own space to spread your wings.
Stiles shifted from foot to foot, not knowing what to say. That had to be a first. “Um. I can lend you some clothes for now so I can throw yours in the dryer. They must be soaked.”
Quickly, Stiles left the room and ran back in with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Awkwardly, he handed them to the ten year old girl and backed out of the room slowly, throwing his thumb up to point behind him and said, “I’ll…just be…out here.”
The door closed after him and slowly, Annabeth peeled off her clothing, layer by layer. With the overly fluffy towel, she dried her body and her hair before putting on the clothes she was offered. She bunched up the wet clothing in one hand and held her backpack in the other. When she opened the door, she found Stiles standing next to the door, fidgeting.
He nervously took the soaping articles of cloth and damp backpack from her and bolted down the stairs. Within seconds, Annabeth heard what sounded like the dryer starting up.
Stiles came up the stairs again and stopped awkwardly down the hall at another door. His eyes were drawn to her arms for a moment before he moved them away and told her, “If you need anything during the night, my room is right here. Dad should be home in a few hours. He usually leaves for work around seven, and I’m sure he’ll want you to be at the station with him tomorrow.”
With that, Stiles walked into his room and closed the door behind him. Annabeth followed his lead and closed the door to her room. Unconsciously, she wrapped her right arm around her middle to hold her left elbow, wincing slightly at one of the many bruises there.
All through the night her dreams were plagued with her father and that damn meat freezer in the basement. Her father would advance on her, his hand raised as if to hit her, but Isaac would suddenly appear and take the brunt of the hit, his body bumping into hers as the momentum of the strike pushed him backward somewhat.
By five the next morning, Annabeth was awake and showered in the attached bathroom of the guest bedroom. Her clothes were folded neatly on the desk chair and her backpack leaning against it. She dressed in her usual dark long sleeved shirt and jeans.
In the kitchen, she sat with a water bottle in front of her. Once in a while she would sip from it, and it wasn’t until she heard noise from above her around six-twenty did she panic. She was in a stranger’s home, drinking from a water bottle from the stranger’s refrigerator that was more than likely bought with the stranger’s money. Was she allowed to have it? Probably not.
Annabeth didn’t have much time to dread on the subject as Sheriff Stilinski walked into the kitchen in his sheriff’s uniform. He walked over to the coffee machine to make himself a cup, glancing at the girl as she just stared at him with wide eyes, trying hard not to eye the gun that hung off his waist.
“Would you like anything to eat, Annabeth?” he asked her. “I’m sure I can whip up some eggs if you want, or a bowl of cereal.”
Annabeth gulped. “I’m fine, sir. I’m sorry I took a water from your fridge without permission.”
The girl figured if she was going to get in trouble for taking something from the sheriff, she might as well admit it and say sorry. Maybe he wouldn’t be too mad then.
He waved it off. “It’s no trouble. I can get you a glass of juice if you want.”
Annabeth shook her head. She didn’t want to be a burden to the nice man.
The sheriff sighed. “We better be heading to the station now. Stiles has school soon and you’ll be safer in a building full of police officers.”
Annabeth followed the sheriff out to his car after he yelled up the stairs for his son to “get his lazy butt out of bed and ready for school,” and was surprised to find an apple up in her lap after she buckled her seatbelt.
At the station, the sheriff left her in the recreation/break room, where she sat at a table and given a few coloring books and crayons. That kept her preoccupied for about half an hour before she got bored and went in search for the sheriff.
Slowly, Annabeth walked down the endless amount of hallways, her head down and her hair in front of her face. She stopped outside an office when she heard the sheriff talking to one of his deputies.
“Are you sure?” the sheriff asked.
“Yes sir,” the deputy answered. “The school called this morning to inform us that Isaac Lahey was in his homeroom class this morning.
The sheriff sighed. He seemed to do that a lot, Annabeth noticed. “All right, after school, we pick him up and bring him back here to be with his sister. Any word on the father?”
“No, sir. We have every officer on high alert. Everyone has his description and his license plate number. Rodriguez just took over for Sanderson on watching the home, so if he goes back there, we’ll be the first to know.”
Annabeth stepped around the corner, not wanting to hear a conversation about her father. She walked into the room fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. “Is Isaac all right?”
The sheriff looked at the girl before nodding to the deputy, who took his leave. The sheriff motioned for Annabeth to take a seat in the chair across from him.
“It seems that your brother is fine. He’s at school at the moment and we have the school officials on high alert to make sure your father doesn’t go near Isaac. After school, we’ll go and bring him here so the two of you are safe.
Annabeth nodded. “Can we go see him at practice? The lacrosse team practices every day at lunch and after school! Can we watch him before we bring him back? I’ve never seen him play lacrosse before; dad wouldn’t let me out of the house besides for school.”
The sheriff smiled and nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. You know, my Stiles is on the lacrosse team, too. He more sits on the bench then plays, but he’s still on the team. It would be a nice change to see him practice with the team than warm the bench, don’t you think?”
Annabeth smiled and laughed lightly. It was fun talking to the sheriff, Annabeth decided. He was nice and always seemed to try to get her to smile. The only other person that tried to get her to smile was her brother, and right now they were separated by the constant threat of their father finding them and the distance between the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department and the high school.
Deciding to let the Sheriff get back to work, Annabeth went back to the recreation room and continued to draw in the coloring books. For the first time in she didn’t know how long, Annabeth Lahey felt like a normal ten year old, coloring outside the lines and being overly ridiculous. Once and a while, she would giggle at the outlandish coloring of the dog or cat she just did.