A/N: So this is my first Teen Wolf story. Based off of the 1985 movie with Michael J. Fox (AKA not the TV show that I seem to not get into because I don't really like it...sorry for all you fans out there). Basically it's Scott's sister going through the same thing, except when he becomes a basketball star, the tight bond the twins share starts to fall apart.

Chapter One

Okay, so I have to put this in ALL fairness—my school's basketball team sucks, I'm pissed off because freaking Pamela Wells got the part in the play that I, Stephanie Howard, should have gotten, and I'm dealing with some conflicted feelings towards one of Scott's best friends right now. I wasn't mad at all, it's just... I've come to terms that I have a huge crush on Stiles.

I was sitting right behind him at the game. No one was in there to watch because, again, we suck. Scott was in the middle of the floor, both teams around him, as his hands went up to his face. They came down and the referee threw him the basketball. He caught it and dribbled in place a couple of times. Then, he looked at the basket, aimed, and threw the ball.
But it missed.
The teams swarmed for the ball, one of the very tall guys pushing down our guys to get it.

"Defense, defense!" our coach yelled. Yeah. Right. That's so gonna work. "Come on, ref, foul!"

One of the guys pushed Scott down and shot. Scott landed on the ground with an "Ugh!" escaping from his mouth. I shook my head and Boof thinned her lips. I knew she had a huge crush on my brother. I mean, shit, it was so easy to tell. A shot was made and there was some sparse applause for the Dragons. Our coach stood.

"Time!"

"Time, time!" one of the players yelled. A tall guy on the Dragons walked over to Scott and helped him up.

"You guys suck." He said and walked off. Scott smirked.

"No, really?" he said, sarcastically.

"Come on, let's go!" someone said.

"Looking good. Way to go. Nothing to worry about. It's fine." Our coach said as everyone on our team walked over to him. "No problem. Hot out there, isn't it? Shouldn't have got in his way, Scotty."

"Hey, Scott-o, looking good out there." Stiles said, coming in. I looked away, hoping no one saw me blush.

"Yeah, how would you know, Stiles." Scott snapped.

"You want to forfeit the game?" the other coach snapped at ours.

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?" ours asked.

"No!"

"No?"

"My players have league scoring records at stake. It wouldn't be fair to them."

"I just thought if we quit now, you could beat the 5:00 traffic."

"There's a lot to learn from losing."

"Okay, we'll play, if it's that big a deal to you."

There was some applause.

Later

It was the last few minutes of the game. Our vice principal, Thorne, looked at our coach.

"It's not going too well is it?" he asked.

"What do you expect, Thorne?" our coach snapped. "Look at the sneakers those guys are wearing. If our guys had sneakers like that, there's no telling what they could do."

Chubby had the ball but had no clue where to throw it.

"We're all open!" one yelled. Scott ran in front of him. "Jump it!" Chubby threw the ball and Scott jumped, but it missed him by a mile. Our coach caught the ball. He looked at Thorne.

"That fat kid's got a great arm." He said. The whistle blew as they all ran around.

"Over here, pass it!" one yelled. Scott caught it and he and that Dragons player were going at it for the ball.

"Forget it, dork!" the kid said. Scott growled at him. I looked at him, confused. The other player just looked scared. I nudged Boof.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" she looked at me.

"You didn't hear Scott growl?"

"No." Boof shook her head. "Why? Did he?"

"Yeah. Loud and clear."

"Well, I didn't hear him."

Scott was running towards the goal. He shot and all of us tensed up. The ball bounced off the rim and then landed on the ground, missing the basket.

Later

I waited outside and was talking to the girls. Something fell in my shirt and I looked down. But I didn't see a leaf. All I saw were a few strands of long brown hair right in the middle of my breasts. "What the hell is that?" I ripped it off and looked at it. "Yuck." I threw it down.

"Hey." Boof looked at me. "You okay, Steph?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Fine."

"Scott."

"Oh, hi, Boof." Scott walked out. "Stephie let's go." My twin nudged his head towards the road.

"Don't boss me around, Scott."

"I am older than you."

"Yeah, but only by three minutes." I snapped. He laughed and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Hi, you going to work?" Boof asked.

"Yeah." Scott and I both replied.

"Can I walk with you?"

"Catch you later, Boof, at the party." Tina said.

"Bye, Tine, Trina... Tina." Scott held up his hand. "I had the strangest dream last night, Boof. It was bizarre."

"Was I in this one?"

"Yeah, yeah, you, Stephie, and... and Pamela, and a bunch of chickens."

"Boof, Steph, how the hell are you?" Stiles asked, standing up in his car.

"Say no." Scott said.

"No!" Boof and I said at the same time.

"Great talking to you!" Stiles drove off.

"Chickens?" Boof looked at my brother.

"Yeah, big chickens, giant. Like fryers, you know?"

"Oh mine was like that." I said.

"Really?" Scott looked at me.

"Yeah, it had you, Boof, Stiles... and cows. And then Stiles got chased by a cow. And these cows were big too. Like humongous."

"Cows? Stiles got chased by a cow?" Boof asked.

"Yeah."

She laughed. "Oh, I wish I could've seen that!"

Scott laughed and then turned grim as a sudden thought occurred to him. "You know, that guy was right. We do suck."

"No news there." Boof said.

"71-12. I don't even know what I'm doing out there. I'm sick of it, guys. I'm sick of being so average. And it's not just basketball. I-I-it's this school. It's this town. It's everything."

"Yeah, well, I'm sick of losing to Pamela Wells every time we have school play auditions."

"And I'm sick of hearing you complain about it." Scott joked. I smacked him upside the head.

"I like Beacontown." Boof snapped.

"I'd just like my life to change. You know, I don't wanna end up working for my Dad at the hardware store." Scott looked at her.

"I hate to admit it, but I gotta agree." I said.

"See? Even Stephie agrees."

"Your father's a terrific guy."

"Boof, look at me. Now, try and be objective. Am I alright? I mean, is there anything wrong with me?"

"You should probably shower after basketball."

"I do."

"Then no, there's nothing wrong with you."

"Well, then, uh, why won't Pamela Wells say two words to me?"

Oh dear God. Boof and I exchanged looks. Scott was in love with Pamela. Personally, I thought she was a whore, slut, bitch, and I think she might be sleeping with the theatre teacher.

"You can do a lot better than Pamela Wells." Boof snapped.

"Like who?"

"Don't you have to be at work?"

"Way to avoid the question, Boof." I joked.

"Shut up, Stephanie."

"Hey, hey. Did I say something wrong?" Scott asked.

"No, no. See you at the party, okay?" Boof left. Scott and I walked in, and Scott took his arm off of me.

"Hey, Angela." He said.

"Hi, Scotty, Stephie, how're you doing? What was the score?" Angela asked.

"Very funny."

Dad was counting some wrenches. "Fifty. What was the score?" he asked us.

"71—" Scott started.

"Don't tell me, I'll lose my count."

"We're down to our last waffle iron." Scott said.

"We are?" I asked.

"Yup."

"You know these wrenches are made in India? How do they expect me to compete with the big boys?" Dad grumbled, coming down off of his step-ladder.

"I'm not Sears and Roebuck." The three of us all said in unison. When we all spoke, Scott and I looked at each other.

"Well, I'm not." Dad said. He looked at Scott. "Hey, Stephie, how're you doing? You okay? You look a little sick."

"I'm fine, Dad." I smiled.

"You sure? If you need to, you can go home."

"No, Dad. I'm fine. Really."

"Okay." Dad looked at my brother. "You look a little tired today, Scott. That coach is not giving you boys steroids or anything is he?"

"Not likely. Maybe he should. We lost 71-12."

Dad shook his head. "You know, Beacontown hasn't won a ball game in, it must be three years." There was a sharp whistle blow. Scott and I both winced. "Don't take it personally, Scott. It's all part of growing up."

"Yeah, uh, yeah, I guess so." Scott said. "Uh, any deliveries?" another whistle blow. "Ah!" Scott exclaimed quietly, covering his ears.

"Some strange-sounding guy called." Dad said. "Sounded like he was in a big hurry."

"Ah!" Scott winced. I saw a little brat with a whistle in his hand. "Today?"

"I'm not sure what I wrote down, but check the clipboard."

"Check the clipboard." Scott repeated and then both of us went over to the little brat.

"That's what it's there for. Well, it is." Dad said as we left his side. Another whistle blow and Scott and I covered our ears again.

"I'm gonna kill that kid, I swear to God, I'm gonna kill that kid." I muttered.

"Calm down, just calm down." Scott grunted his teeth. But he was also agitated. We saw the brat an aisle over and ran to him. Right before he could blow again, Scott lightly smacked him in the back of the head and the whistle came out of his mouth and landed in Scott's hand.

"It's broken." The brat said and walked off.

"Dog whistle?" Scott muttered. I looked at him.

"Scott, did you find anything...weird on you today?"

"Like what?"

"Like hair that's not supposed to be on your chest?"

"What color?" Scott looked at me in surprise as he stood.

"Brown. About this long." I held my thumb and forefinger up and apart as far as they could go.

"Oh my God."

"You did, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I ripped it off."

"Scott, do you think there's something wrong with us?"

"No. Maybe. Possibly. I'm not sure. I think we should talk to Dad about this."

"Good idea." I nodded.