"What would that be called Ms. Martin?" Mrs. Thorne stood at the front of the classroom expecting a response from Lydia while she and twenty-two other students now collectively stared at her. They recognized just as she did, that Lydia Martin did not seem to know the answer to a question brought up in class. For the first time in their academic careers, Lydia Martin did not have a response. Little did they know that not only did Lydia not have an answer for this question, but she would not have an answer for any question covering the last two weeks of AP Calculus. That was how long it had been since academia had become the last thing on her mind. Instead of formulas and diagrams filling the notebook in front of her, it was manically written lists of varying subjects; How did this happen? How do I tell him? What happens next? What do we do now?
"Ms. Martin?" Mrs. Thorne's voice broke through Lydia's train of thought and she realized she had become unresponsive again.
"I don't know." Lydia finally said and Mrs. Thorne's face immediately set itself into a stern scowl.
"I have to say I am surprised and a little disappointed Lydia. I expect more from you, especially this close to midterms." She scorned. Lydia made a conscience decision not to be shamed by the cross-looking worman. She offered no excuse but kept her eyes up front until Mrs. Thorne finally moved on. Lydia had kept up a strong front but she began to feel bile rising in the back of her throat again and her new focus suddenly became counting the minutes on the clock until the bell rang to dismiss them.
Lydia managed to be one of the first ones out of the door and into the crowded halls of Beacon Hills High. She bee lined it toward the stairs that led toward the lower levels of the school, where the band and choir rooms were and more importantly where the girl's bathroom was almost guaranteed to be empty. She barely made it into a stall before she was giving her breakfast to the Porcelain Gods. In a moment between horrendous heaving and gagging, Lydia took a moment to listen for anyone else in the small bathroom, wondering if she would have to come up with some half-assed excuse as to why she was puking in between classes. The silence only lasted a blessed moment before she was bent over once again, vomiting into the toilet. She was so distracted by her own distress she did not hear the bathroom door open and close, nor the unlocked door to the stall she occupied being pulled ajar. It was not until someone gathered the hair she had been trying to hold back into their own hand that she realized someone was with her.
"Stiles?" She whimpered, recognizing the worn shoes. "What are you doing here?"
"I got worried when you didn't meet me at your locker. We were supposed to meet up to study at the library." Stiles moved his free hand in a small circle against her back as Lydia involuntarily lurched forward once again. "Kira said she saw you running this way."
"You shouldn't be here Stiles." Lydia rasped, trying to catch her breath.
"What are you doing here Lydia? What is wrong?" Stiles questioned as he helped her stand up straight, keeping a wary hand on her elbow as they stepped out of the stall. "And don't say nothing. You've been off for weeks. I can tell when you're lying too, it's like this sixth sense I have. You have dead body detection and I since lying…and danger…and evil, I'm pretty good at—"
"I'm pregnant." Lydia exhaled, her shoulders shrinking with the confession.
"You're preg—pregnant?" Stiles stood speechless for a moment, his mouth continuing to move but no sound came from it.
"Three months pregnant." Lydia whispered, leaning heavily against the nearest sink. She had thought that confessing would make her feel relieved, lighter. Instead she just felt completely drained of all energy.
"Three months? Lydia…" Stiles took a moment to process the information, his mind computing a mile a minute. "LYDIA!"
"Stiles—"She tried to buffer the blow up that was about to happen but Stiles was already full steam ahead. His face showed complete shock and he waved a finger between her and him.
"Lydia, we were—three months-that's when we..!" Stiles' voice rose as he spoke until he was almost yelling.
"I know Stiles! I know." She let her voice match his, shouting over his panic. He was referring to the one and only time that they had been together. A week after her escape from Eichen House.
"And you're sure it's…" He pointed at himself instead of finishing the question.
"Yes!" Lydia hollered, angered by his insinuation. She began pacing the small width of the bathroom, suddenly energized by her irritation.
"I'm sorry. I'm just shocked, okay. I don't really know what to say…or do." Stiles sighed.
"Don't you think I know that? For two weeks I've been freaking out."
"Two weeks?! You've known for two weeks and you didn't say anything? Oh Lydia." It was Stiles turn to pace the floor while he pushed his hand through his hair.
"I only suspected. I didn't go to the clinic until two days ago to know for sure. I should have figured it out sooner but I think I was in denial. Things are finally at peace, I didn't want to ruin that."
"You could have told me." Stiles said, reaching his hand out toward her. She was about to go to him, suddenly needing that comfort she only now realized she wanted but was interrupted before she could reach him when a group of freshman girls crashed through the door in a fit of giggles. They immediately froze when they saw Stiles standing there, a clear impostor in their sanctuary.
"What are you staring at?" Lydia demanded, easily becoming the intimidating upper class-man. The girls clamped their mouths shut as she led the way out of the bathroom. She said nothing as they made their way back up the stairs and as she turned away from the direction of their next class.
"Where are you going?" Stiles called out after her.
"Home. Don't follow me Stiles." She ordered without looking back at him so she could not watch him throw his hands up in the air with frustration.