Don't Take Yourself So Seriously

"Unlock the door, Mom," Kinsey pleaded.

After listening to her mom freak out about Dave (the hunter who ended up dead), Kinsey was more than ready to get out of the car. There was no need to hear in detail what marks had been left on him. The radio was the only noise in the car. "Search continues for alleged killer Derek Hale," it rang out before Kinsey shut it off.

Kinsey's mom looked through the windows. Jamie sat in the back of the car, staring aimlessly, oblivious to anything being said in the front seats. "You can come back Friday. The alpha could be hanging around ready to kill hunters." Kinsey's mom glanced back, making sure Jamie hadn't heard what she said. "I didn't know Derek Hale was in on it, too. If that bastard tried to hurt my baby, I'd murder him with my own hands."

"You're cursing more," Kinsey commented, her head in her hand.

"Ms. Pottymouth," Jamie said. Kinsey smiled.

They parked close to the front entrance, but the car stayed locked. Kinsey's mom put a hand on her leg as Kinsey tried to escape. She prepared herself for some big, long mom speech. Trying to contain her attitude, she started rummaging through the lunch her mom had packed for her. Kinsey's mom was so freaked out she thought Kinsey needed extra care; therefore, she needed to have lunches packed for her like a 3rd grader. Like Jamie.

Kinsey grew more annoyed as her mom just stared at her, not starting her speech until Kinsey looked into her eyes. She kept her eyes down, though. "Mom, I'm really not scared of Derek Hale. He's still human like us." Kinsey turned around to hand Jamie a bag of grapes. She knew they were Jamie's favorite.

"Yes!" Jamie exclaimed, packing them into her bookbag. She looked up to Kinsey with her big blue eyes. "Who's Derek?"

"My boyfriend," Kinsey joked. Her mom hit her shoulder as Kinsey started chuckling.

The mom speech began as Kinsey turned and accidentally made eye contact. "Those wolves aren't human. You can't have compassion for them," she whispered in a low voice. Jamie squirmed to hear her, but Kinsey pushed her back by her forehead, causing her to whine. "I didn't want to believe it when your dad told me about them, but they really are killers. You have to watch yourself."

"Alright, Mommy. I love you," Kinsey said through clenched teeth.

Kinsey's mom continued to stare at the side of her head until Stiles popped up in the window, tapping on the glass. Everyone in the car jumped at first but couldn't stay scared at Stiles' goofy smile. The car door unlocked and Kinsey hopped up, pushing Stiles away from the car in a hurry.

Side-by-side, Kinsey and Stiles walked into the school. There was an awkwardness in the air that only Stiles felt. Kinsey was too far gone after being inadvertently called a killer.

"King, I'm sorry for the other day. . . Uh, for the kiss," he added when Kinsey didn't know what he was talking about. “I was drunk and stupid and inconsiderate.”

"That was pretty fucked up," she said, searching through his faltering eyes. "Like, completely uncool. You're an ass. I think I should be hitting you."

Stiles looked up from the floor. "But you're not?"

This is never going to happen. . . Kinsey pessimistically thought. Stiles waited for an answer, any sort of reply. She sucked it up and told him “No.” She turned and started for the door.

Stiles grabbed hold of her elbow. “Wait, you're just letting me off?” Kinsey gently took his arm off, walking away again. “Wait, King, what are you doing?”

Kinsey sighed, turning back. “You're . . . You're . . .”

How do you fit “Oh yeah, Derek made moves on me in his fucked up ways, you kissed me, you don't realize I've been pining over you for so long, and my mom just equalized me with that of less than human” into one sentence when you can't even look the person in the eye for more than a second?

She wanted to slap him, break his lacrosse stick in half, do something, but she wanted to stay in control more than any of those things. There was the smallest chance he realized Kinsey liked him (I mean, damn, everyone did. Even Scott had made a few snarky comments about it under his breath before). There was an even smaller chance he purposely kissed her just because he could. But Stiles couldn't be that bad of a friend.

Kinsey's mouth couldn't make all those thoughts into words.

“I'm going to hang out with Scott.”

* * * * *

Scott was unsuccessfully screwing a paint lid back on, unable to line up the ridges. Kinsey's disappointment was evident in her face. “You've been doing this for three minutes. How are you alive right now?” Scott looked up with his puppy dog eyes.

The other art students were in the next room, putting their projects on a drying board. The teacher read a magazine at her desk, avoiding all interaction. Kinsey put an elbow up on the sink, watching Scott with a grin on her face.

He handed the jar over, and Kinsey twisted the cap. It got jammed, and she turned it again and again. Scott was looking at her smugly. “There's dried paint stuck in here,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“There's dried paint everywhere!” It was true. Scott had managed to paint not only his project, but the bottle of paint, part of his chair, and a corner on Kinsey's project.

Scott sat down, unknowingly in a glob of blue, and sighed. “Wow, I screwed this up.” He put his hands through his hair. Scott put down the clean paint brushes next to his project. “Have you punched Stiles yet?”

Soft skin, pale cheeks, bright eyes, she remembered. “Nope. Allison say anything to you?”

“Nope.”

Kinsey sat down across from him, tapping a finger on her own project. The paint was dry, so she moved it over to the side. She sprawled out over the table, fingers poking at Scott's stomach.

“Life sorta sucks,” Scott offered.

“Oh, yeah. My mom basically said we were monsters today.” Scott chewed at his lip, eyes stuck on the paint in front of him. “I don't think it gets easier.”

Scott scraped the excess paint from the lid and capped it. He smiled proudly. “I'm wondering when Stiles is going to realize you're in love with him,” he blurted out. Scott had managed to talk about Allison excessively that day. He was out of conversation when it came to her, surprisingly. It was Kinsey's turn.

“I'm not in love with him!” Kinsey shouted. The teacher looked up. “Shut up!”

“So, does that mean you're not mad at him anymore?”

“Well, if I had kissed anyone else, I would have been upset for days. But he's my best friend. I don't want to stay mad at him.”

“Then don't.”

Kinsey hunched her eyebrows. How do you not stay mad when someone messes with your feelings? Art class always seemed to help for Scott and Kinsey. They painted and cracked jokes no matter what problems were going on. They had needed art class a lot over the last month.

The sound of the bell brought Scott to his feet. Kinsey watched him walk away, holding her mouth. Blue paint was splattered all over his back end.