"Don't worry, dear you'll catch up." my mother assured me as we sat in the Principal office of Beacon Hills High School.

I scoffed. "Coming here in the middle of the school year? Yeah, right."

She pursed her lips. "Then maybe this is a chance to work on that procrastination problem that's always troubled you."

I rolled my eyes, pressing the pause button on my ipod. So much for tuning her out with music. "I just don't get the point. Why bother doing something if you don't want to do it?"

I knew it took all of her strength not to sigh. "It's part of growing up dear. Education is the key to a good future. I wouldn't have moved it here if weren't for my promotion at work. I'd be an idiot if I turned it down."

"Yeah, like there isn't enough cops in California."

"Tess," my mother hissed.

"Well it's true." I said, not bothering to sugar coat it.

"We're not in the big cities of California, Tess," she explained. "Beacon Hills needed a helping hand so I accepted the offer."

"Whatever," I said, rolling my eyes again.

My mother's usually kind green eyes heated with warning. "Don't talk back to me young lady. I won't hesitate to ground you."

I didn't respond but we both knew grounding wouldn't do any good. I didn't really have much a life. No friends, no boyfriend.

"Can I go?" I asked impatiently. "First period is about to start and I don't want to walk in with everyone staring at me like I'm some kind of freak."

Just then the principal stepped in, looking rather embarrassed. "Sorry for the wait, Mrs. Langst." he apologized as he sat down at his desk.

"It's all right."

The middle-aged man in a suit beamed at us, his hands resting on his desk. "Well!" he exclaimed. "Welcome to Beacon Hills High School!"

I pressed a forced smile so he wouldn't look like an idiot.

"If you don't mind me asking, what made you move here in the middle of the semester?"

"I was offered a promotion," my mother answered. "I was a former police officer in Oregon until I was offered a position here."

The principal smiled. "Then congratulations. Our town will feel a lot safer now with another officer out on the field."

My head perked up in interest. "A lot safer? What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing to worry about dear," he assured me. "We've just been having some unusual calls lately.'

Okay, he is so lying. I thought.

He cleared his throat. "Teresa is it?" he asked.

"Tess." I corrected. "I like to be called Tess."

"Tess," he decided. "Why don't you go off to class? Er, your mother and I need to have a little chat."

As I got up from my chair, he handed me a slip of paper. "Incase you're tardy."

I nodded and left, wanting to get the hell out of there. If I hated anything, it was being late.

"Shit," I cursed, seeing that the students were already dispersing. Any minute now the bell would ring and I haven't even gotten to my locker yet. I took out my schedule from my pocket, seeing my locker number: 302.

I looked around seeing that I was close. "Thank god," I sighed.

In a hurry, I pushed my way through the crowd, taking notice of the longer numbers. 298, 299, 300, 301...

"Hello, locker 302." I greeted, finding it at the end of the hallway. I messed with the lock and opened it seeing it empty.

Seeing that I had Physical Education, I put stashed most of my belongings in the locker, closing it. Then I rushed to my first class.

I sighed in relief. The second I stepped in, the bell rang. I opened my eyes to see a class staring at me. Great. I hated crowds.

"Who the hell are you?" the teacher asked, receiving laughs from the class room.

I looked at the teacher, seeing a Caucasian man with short messy black hair and slight round features wearing a hoodie, sweats and sneakers. "Oh, I was just transferred here."

"Ah, I see, you have any proof you possible serial killer?" Another laugh from the class.

Okay this teacher is a complete ass hole. I decided. "Yes, I have proof." I pulled out my schedule that was attached with a paper stating that I was a new student. I walked over and handed it to him.

He inspected me a questionable look then focused on the paper. "Hm," he said. "Yes, I see, Teresa Langst, originally from Portland, Oregon."

"Tess," I corrected again.

"What?" he asked.

"I like to be called Tess."

"Oh, well I could care less. I'll just call you Langst."

"Um, okay?" I said awkwardly. No one ever called me by my last name before.

I heard snickers from the students.

"And why are you here in the middle of the semester?" the teacher asked.

I decided to play along. "Is that really any of your business?" I retorted.

"Ooooh," the class said like we were a bunch of fifth graders.

"Oh, grow up." I snapped at them.

The teacher smiled. "Hey, we got a feisty one here. I like that. Name's Finstock. Coach Finstock." He held out his hand and I reluctantly shook it.

"So you're mother named you Coach?" I joked. "Strange name."

My peers laughed along with Finstock. "Well it's better than my first name. Take a seat."

He gave me my paper back and I scanned the room, feeling awkward. I hated standing in front of a crowd, for no matter what reason. The only seat available was in the middle row, behind a guy with short black hair. He was kinda cute but not my type. Usually I liked sitting in the front due to my poor eye sight but I took the seat anyways. I immediately groaned. Here's another reason: kids' heads weren't see-through.

Hardly any of the board was visible. I lifted up my glasses but the print on the board wasn't much clearer. I groaned again.

"What's wrong?" the kid asked in front of me as he turned around to see me.

I glanced up at him and muttered, "Can't see very well."

"Oh, well me neither. But if you need any help, just let me know. I take great notes."

"Are you hitting on me?" I asked flatly.

The guy blushed, making a choking-like sound. "What? No, not at all. I was just saying-"

"McCall!" Coach shouted, causing us to jump.

The kid in front of me stared at him. "Yes, Coach?"

"Is there something that you and Langst would like to say to the class?"

He cleared his throat. "N-no Coach. I was just helping her out."

"Hm," Coach said. "Well then if you seem so keen on talking to her then I'll assign her as your project partner." He took a clipboard from his desk, scribbling something down.

"Project?" a kid questioned who sat next to guy named McCall. "Coach, it's the middle of the semester."

"Stilinski, unless you want to get assigned a partner, I'd shut your yap."

"Yes, Coach."

"Yes, so as Stilinski pointed out, it is in the middle of the semester so you're probably wondering why I am assigning you all a project. I am doing this because the Principal demands one for this class or else I wouldn't have given a shit."

The class chuckled.

"Here on this project, you will get to know your partner inside and out, personally and…" He waited as he paced in front of us, grinning. "…physically."

All of us shifted uncomfortably.

"The point of this is to learn. At the end of the semester, you will write down your findings and turn them in as credit. If you think you can slack off of this project, then think again. It counts as 70% of your final grade."

The students and I groaned.

"Great," I muttered under my breath.

"Coach, exactly what does this have to do with this class?" the kid named Stilinski questioned.

Coach groaned. "A lot of things, Stilinski. So for the rest of class, you all interact and talk with your partner."

Reluctantly, the entire class got up from their seats to be with their partner. All I had to do was stay put but my partner turned his desk around slightly. He smiled.

"What?" I asked.

He blinked. "Uh, nothing, just giving you a friendly smile."

The corner of my mouth turned upward. "Cute, and what are you the greeting committee?"

"No, I'm Scott McCall, Co-Captain of the lacrosse team. You?" He held out a hand and I shook it.

I couldn't help but to respond. Something about this kid prevented me from being my normal self. He was nothing like Coach Finstock. "Teresa Langst,"

"But you like to be called Tess." he recalled.

I nodded. "And if you call me Teresa, I will punch you in the throat."

Scott chuckled. "Why's that?"

"Because I hate it that's why. The name sounds like it should belong to a prissy."

"And you're not a prissy?"

"Hell, no."

Scott chuckled.

"What?" I demanded, not finding the humor.

"Nothing, I just think you're going to be a very interesting subject." He gave me another smile.

I gave him a sarcastic one. "Well you may be disappointed."

He frowned. "How come?"

I groaned, lowering my head on the desk. "Since when did we start playing a game of twenty questions?"

"Since Coach signed us project partners?" Scott answered confusingly, his brow narrowed.

"All because you had to talk." I muttered.

"Hey, everyone else was already assigned. I did you a favor."

"Oh, really?" I asked.

He nodded. "I am very interesting."

I laughed. "I doubt that."

"Okay, then if you doubt me then why not come to my place after school?"

"A little fast aren't we?" I joked. "I mean we haven't even been on our first date."

Scott's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

I laughed a bit louder this time. "Kidding, I was kidding. I'm a jokester."

He sighed. "Oh, good then you and Stiles will get along great."

I narrowed my eyes. "Stiles? What kind of name is that?"

"He's my best friend." Scott pointed to the kid who Coach called Stilinski who had short-grayish straight hair, pale Caucasian skin and a skinny mass. Basically, I could beat the guy up if I wanted to. Mom always said I was a strong girl.

"Oh, Stiles Stilinski, huh?" I asked.

Scott nodded. "He's a jokester too. And he also plays for lacrosse."

"Okay, that's the second time you mentioned lacrosse. What the hell is it exactly?"

"It's a sport," Scott explained. "Kinda like soccer but instead of kicking a ball with a feet, you have a stick with a net and you use it to throw and catch a smaller ball. You win points by throwing it into the goalie."

"Okay you may have to demonstrate that for me." I said.

"Why?"

"Because I know absolutely nothing about sports."

Scott laughed. "Not athletic huh?"

I shook my head. "I'm more on the artistic side."

His brown eyes lit up with interest. "Really?"

I blushed, knowing that I never really talked about myself with a guy before. "Yeah. Got it from my mom's side of the family."

"So you're like that dude who only had one ear?"

I laughed. "His name his Van Gogh and well sort of. I don't paint."

"Then what do you do?"

My blush deepened. I never really liked talking about my personal life with anyone let alone with a guy. "I draw."

"Oh, cool. Like what?"

"Um, boring stuff. People mostly."

"Cool, can I see?" he asked.

"No way." I answered.

"Why not?"

"Not good enough."

Scott pressed a smile. "Oh, I'm sure that's not true."

"Yeah, it is. I'll just save you the trouble."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Because," he said. "If I know anything about artists, it's that they always say their art is terrible when in actuality, their work is beautiful."

Scott made me blush again. "Oh, um…."

"So bring your stuff to my place." he said.

"Why?" I asked him.

"Because it's part of my observation."

My blushed deepened and although I never showed my art to anyone besides my mom, I said, "Okay."

"I mean, seriously we have to know each other inside and out, personally and…" He cleared his throat and in a mocking tone of Coach Finstock's voice, he said, "Physically."

We both laughed. Okay, I like this guy, I decided.

"Hey, Scott." a voice whispered.

We looked up seeing Stiles leaning towards us. "Wanna switch partners?" he whispered behind his hand.

"No way," we both said at once.

Scott and I exchanged looks, smiling. Stiles grumbled, reluctantly scooting his desk back.

Scott and I laughed again.

"So what's your schedule?" he asked.

I pulled it out and we both inspected it.

"Cool," he said. "We both have the same classes."

"Awesome." We shared a hi-five.

"Well," Suddenly Coach stood in front of us with his arms crossed. "It looks like you made a little friend."

Scott and I exchanged looks.

"I saw that hi-five." he added with a grin.

We chuckled.

"You're welcome." he said before walking back to his desk.

"He is some character," I commented once we left.

"Yeah, he can be an ass sometimes." Scott agreed.

"You know him?" I asked.

He nodded. "He coaches the lacrosse team."

"Oh, man I'm sorry." I said.

We laughed again.

By the end of class, I knew I made a friend. Scott seemed like an okay guy. "Thanks Coach," I said to our teacher as I headed out of the class.

He turned around, giving me a smile.

"So where's your locker?" Scott asked me.

"Over here," I said, walking over to it.

"Sweet, mine is just a few lockers down."

"Why didn't you switch with me?" Scott's friend appeared behind me, looking offended.

"Uh, what?" Scott looked over his shoulder as he opened his locker.

"Why didn't you switch with me?" Stiles repeated.

Scott looked at me. "Oh um,"

"Is it because I'm sarcastic?" Stiles guessed. "Because we all know-"

"I know, Stiles." Scott cut in. "And I didn't switch because Coach made Tess and I partners."

Stiles looked at me with distaste.

I rested my hand on my hip. "Before you insult me, you should know that I can totally kick your ass."

Stiles cleared his throat, approaching me in one swift motion, tripping on the way, bumping into some lockers. "Hi, I'm Stiles Stilinski, nice to meet you." Like Coach Finstock and Scott, he held out his hand but this time, I didn't shake it. He awkwardly lowered it to his side.

"You're such a push over." I said, taking stuff out of my locker.

"Hey, I am not a push over," Stiles disagreed.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

He grumbled.

Scott intercepted us. "Hey, guys cool it."

"It's all Tess's fault." Stiles muttered.

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothing!" he piped up.

"You guys better get along because Stiles your taking us to my house."

"What?" Stiles and I both asked at once.

"My motor bike is in the shop." Scott told him. "And we need to meet up for our new project."

"Who says she can't take herself?" Stiles questioned.

"I didn't." Scott said, looking at me.

"Oh um, I can't. I don't exactly drive yet."

"Why not?" Stiles asked with a cocky grin. "Scared?"

"No!" I answered. "My mom is too busy with her job to teach me lessons. She was recruited here for a better position."

"Oh, yeah and what's that?" asked Stiles.

"She's a cop." I answered.

They both exchanged looks.

"Weird," Stiles said. "My dad's a cop."

"Small world." I commented.

Scott nodded.

"Hey, honey, I'll pick you up after school okay?"

Out of nowhere, my mom appeared next to me, her hand on my shoulder. "Mom." I hissed, getting embarrassed.

"Oh, who are these two? They're cute."

"Mom!" I repeated.

"I'm cute?" Stiles asked.

"Why don't you introduce me?" she suggested.

I groaned. "Mom, this is Scott, Scott mom."

"Hey," Stiles protested.

"And Stiles." I added carelessly.

"We were assigned partners." Scott told my mom. "So I thought she could hang out at my place afterwards. If that's okay with you."

My mom's face lit up. "Of course! That's just fine!" She patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before dark," I told her, knowing my curfew.

She nodded and after giving me a hug and a goodbye, she finally left.

"Your mom sounds cool." Scott said.

"Yeah, she just likes to butt in my life."

"Don't I know the feeling," Stiles muttered.

The warning bell rang.

"We should go or else we'll be late." Scott said.

Having the same class, I followed him. "What are you doing here?" I asked, seeing Stiles on the other side of Scott.

"We have the same classes." he answered, slightly offended.

I groaned.