True Nature

A loud bang like something heavy crashing into hardwood made Ambrosia jump, smudging her eyeliner in a haphazard way across her eyelid. Fixing it quickly, she scrambled out to the railing to look down into the living room where her parents were hauling in a large black cauldron. Rolling her eyes and groaning, she skipped down a few of the stairs to see them laughing, carrying it the rest of the way into the traditional kitchen of their new home in Beacon Hills, California.

“Are you serious?” She asked, propping her hands on both hips as she watched. “You actually had that shipped here?”

“Of course I did, sweetheart. What else would I make my remedies in?” Her mother responded, straightening out her blouse. You would never know that her parents were so … odd by just looking at them. Her mother was beautiful, with chocolate hair just like hers and vibrant blue eyes and a wide grin with deep set dimples. Her skin was unblemished and she looked completely timeless, ageless, as she stood looking smart in her slacks and blouse like she was going to a job interview.

Ambrosia knew better, though.

Her parents were weird. There was no way around it. Brought up on several different continents, watching her parents do the strangest things like diving into random caves or concocting strange herbal ‘potions’ gave Ambrosia the idea that she would never have a normal life. Always on display in their homes were the endless books that her parents had written on the occult, supernatural, the strange and the downright horrifying. She had seen enough through all of this to know there were truths to the madness but often she wished she was still ignorant like most of the world. But in her parents’ endless searches for truth, she had been enlightened to way more than she could have dreamed of.

Her father was as handsome as her mother was beautiful. Tall, muscular, sandy blonde hair and tan skin to make his deep brown eyes and bright smile pop, he was a looker. Several girls had come over just to catch a glimpse of him. Though offbeat, she had to thank her parents for the good genes that made her so likable and able to make friends at all the various schools she had been to over the years. It, however, did not make up for the fact that bringing any of said friends home would almost always immediately alienate herself from them once they started jabbering about their jobs and trying to show her guests all the random pieces of junk they’ve collected over the years.

“I don’t know. You could try a regular pot for once.”

“Now, you remember the last time your mother mixed a potion in one of our pots before fixing spaghetti.” Her father reminded her, both of them chuckling.

“How is that funny? I was in the hospital for two days!”

“Yes, but now we know you’re allergic to chamomile.” Her mother said, as though knowing somehow made up for the hospital bills and her going into anaphylactic shock. That was yet another annoying thing about her beautiful and peculiar parents – every experience and discovery was a good thing. Even if it landed their daughter in the E.R.

“Unbelievable. This is why I can’t keep friends!”

“Now, now … don’t blame your mother for that. That last boy you dated liked coming over here.”

“Because he had a crush on her! Not on me!” They both chuckled. “Oh my God … you’re both unbelievable.”

“Well, I don’t blame him. Your mother is stunning.”

“And disgusting. I’m going to school.”

“I made you lunch!” Her mother rounded the counter with a brown paper bag, handing it over to her. Ambrosia raised an eyebrow and grabbed it with just her fingertips. “Oh relax – it’s completely harmless. Oh, though there is a small vile with -”

“I’m good.” She handed back the bag making her mother sigh. “A vile of what?” Her curiosity was yet another thing that translated to her.

“It’s this new potion – it’ll help you focus.”

Despite how weird and embarrassing they were, her parents were incredibly kind-hearted people and it was hard not to just laugh at their antics sometimes. They meant well and even if she was humiliated by them more often than not, Ambrosia deeply loved both of them so she took the bag from her mom as she kissed her cheek, her father grinning as he leaned against the counter and waving to her before she left out the front door.

Hopping into her old school Challenger she revved the engine and smiled. She missed this in Europe – the feel of an American muscle car. Her father had had one when they lived in New York all those years ago and she had been obsessed ever since. Luckily she had spent the two days before driving around to see where everything was. It was a slightly small town, easy to find things though a bit strange since everything looked so different than what she had been used to the past few years.

The school looked much different than it had the day she drove by it – this time crawling with students despite the fact she was early. A steadying breath was all she needed to get up the courage to get out of her car once it was parked. She had done this before – about six times if she remembered correctly and most of those were in non-English speaking countries – so she wasn’t as nervous as most people would be. Plus, she had the uncanny ability to draw people into her like moths to a flame. She had never suffered being alone on the first day.

It was the keeping of friends that was a little difficult.

Ambrosia strolled purposefully into the office, past plenty of her now-fellow classmates out on the lawn watching her every move as she strode past. She just held her chin up and clutched her books tighter to her chest and smiled warmly at the secretary. “Hi, I’m new here … I need my schedule and locker number, please? Ambrosia Hemlock.”

“That’s a lovely name.” Her words were kind but she could tell things about people due to being incredibly intuitive and what she really meant was – ‘that’s an odd name’. She had been getting that all her life. “Here you go – a full schedule and your locker assignment. Would you like someone to walk you to your first class?”

“I think I can figure it out, thanks.” She grabbed the papers and walked out, looking down. Her course load was heavy but to her it actually looked like a breeze compared to what she would be having to deal with if they had stayed another year in Romania.

She had already had to go through introductions in two classes by the time she reached English and she was spent from talking about herself. She spotted an empty spot next to a pretty Asian girl and quickly slipped into it as everyone made their way to their own desks. “You don’t look nearly as nervous as I was starting my first day.”

She turned and smiled back at her. “I’ve done this a lot. I’m Ambrosia.”

“Cool name.” This time, she could tell this girl was being genuine when she said that. “I’m Kira. I’m also glad to not be the new kid anymore. Welcome to Beacon Hills.”

“Thanks.”

“Class, we have a new student.” The teacher disrupted, causing Ambrosia to scrunch up her nose. “Ambrosia, would you like to stand up?”

“If you think this is bad try having your father as the history teacher talking about how you can’t make friends.” Kira whispered, making her laugh as she stood up.

“Now, very fascinating, it says you’ve just moved from Romania. What was that like?”

“Romanian.” Some of the kids laughed, the teacher raising an eyebrow at her. “România este frumoasă, cu arhitectură uimitoare și viața de noapte incredibila.” Clearly, neither the students or teacher had anticipated that. “It was pretty.” (“Romania is beautiful with amazing architecture and incredible nightlife”)

“Wonderful.” The teacher said, taking a deep breath. “Well, welcome!”

When lunch rolled around, Ambrosia found herself walking towards the outdoor picnic tables just as Kira had told her to when they parted ways after English. The girl had been sweet and helpful and Ambrosia always felt better when she had friends to talk to so it was a no-brainer to go and meet up with her and her friends. She only hoped they were as welcoming as she had been. Spotting her with a group, all laughing, she let out a light breath and walked straight for them.

Seeing her, Kira jumped slightly away from a handsome dark-haired boy who appeared to be her boyfriend. “Guys! Um, I don’t know if it’s cool that I invite people to our table but she’s really nice and, I mean, I know what it’s like to be new and …”

“Kira, it’s more than fine.” The boy next to her said, laughing and rubbing her back. “Hey, I’m Scott McCall. The one checking her lip gloss is Lydia Martin and the one staring at you dumbstruck is Stiles Stilinski.”

“Your parents named you Stiles Stilinski?”

“Don’t get him started on that.” Scott said, laughing.

“Fair enough.” She slid in the other side of Kira directly across from the boy with the funny sounding name as he continued to stare at her. “Is he always like that?”

“Stiles, snap out of it.” Scott said, literally snapping at him. “Yes, he’s always that weird.”

“Rock on, man.” He said, holding up his hand for emphasis. When she furrowed her brows, he continued. “Metallica.” Pointing to her shirt before making the ‘rock on’ hand gesture. “Sweet.”

“Uh, thanks. I’m Ambrosia, by the way. Ambrosia Hemlock.”

“And you were making fun of my name?”

She cracked a grin at the strange, yet very attractive boy with deep dimples that made her heart met. “Touché, Stiles Stilinski.”

“Ambrosia just moved from Romania.” Kira offered, finally catching the redhead’s attention.

“Land of Vlad the Impaler. Sounds … cheerful.” Stiles said.

“Their educational system over there is insane. Super tough.” Lydia said, looking at her. “You must be smart.”

“Depends on how you define it, I suppose.”

“Lydia here is like a certified genius.” Kira said, chuckling. “Ambrosia speaks fluent Romanian.”

It was like the beautiful Asian girl was trying to make everything easy between them. Ambrosia was good at making friends with people but something about Lydia told her that one might be a bit harder to crack. “I speak French and Russian, too.” When they all looked at her dumbstruck she shrugged. “I’ve moved around a lot.”