And I wrote chapter two to help chalk out my character more and have more interactions between her and the other characters, so as I said before, let me know what y'all think! (PS - I kinda got inspired by her through antagonistic protagonists - if that makes any sense - like Damon Salvatore in Vampire Diaries... kinda drawn to damaged characters)

Okay, READ and ENJOY!

TWO: MY MEDICINE

"I don't see why you're so pissy about it," I sat at our grimy, makeshift kitchen table, lazily flipping through the newspaper.

"You had one thing to do… one… and could you do it? No," Derek growled, staring at me angrily from his position in the shadowy corner.

"Unbind your panties. It's no big deal," I sipped my coffee without even looking back up at him.

Emitting a beast-like roar, my cousin rushed forward and knocked the mug from my hands, causing it to shatter on the floor.

Glancing down at the mess with a bored expression, I then looked up at his snarling wolf face, and responded: "I'm not cleaning that up."

"Charlie!" he roared furiously.

"Whoa, calm it down there, big boy… who's the one lacking self-control now?" I raised my eyebrows at him, completely unphased by his usual overly aggressive temper tantrum.

Still breathing heavily, my cousin glared at me for a moment or two longer before regaining control over himself and going back to normal.

"That's more like it," I smiled widely, folding my hands on the table.

"They were poking around our property yesterday," he hissed.

"Who? Scott and the Sheriff's son? Did they find anything?" I asked, all ready fairly certain what the answer was.

"No," Derek looked away from my smug expression.

"So everything's cool. Relax," I glanced at the clock.

7:30am. Time to head back to that germ-infested internment camp…

"I asked you to keep an eye on the kid," Derek pressed, watching me stand up and put some things into my bag.

"I missed the only class I had with him. Sue me," I retorted dully.

"And the lacrosse practice you refused to go to?" he folded his burly arms.

Putting a hand on my hip, I stared back at my unreasonable older cousin: "The deal was I go to school and check out what's going on… not follow him around like some dopey fan girl."

"No, the deal was to keep tabs on him, which if you did correctly, you would've been there to see him show off his new abilities all practice long. Idiot's gonna out himself… and maybe us," Derek grumbled crossly.

Walking up to him, I pressed my finger into the deep crease that sat between his furrowed brows: "You're gonna give yourself wrinkles."

Swiping my hand away in frustration, he barked: "Can you be serious for one minute?"

"Derek, I got it. I'll stalk your new baby cub and I'll even make an appearance at his game tonight. How about that?" I threw my leather jacket on and slapped his stubbly cheek playfully.

"I'm gonna knock you into tomorrow real soon," he retorted impassively.

Heading towards the still charred door, I called over my shoulder somewhat merrily: "Sure you are."

And with that, I lit up a cigarette, put in my headphones, and let The Black Keys serve as the soundtrack to my walk to school.


Arriving in a relatively decent mood, I took my usual route through the field and rounded the bend, entering packed lot. Pretending not to see the throng of familiar lacrosse players playing catch on the grass in front of the building, I kept my black Ray Bans on and stared straight ahead.

"Charlie!" I heard my name, but decided to pretend I couldn't hear anything besides my blaring music, which was obviously preposterous due to my irritating superhuman hearing… literally had to make myself deaf to get some peace and quiet sometimes…

Heading to my locker, my daily morning migraine was worse than ever, for the full moon was tonight, and every cell of my being felt on edge. Jiggling the lock, I popped open my locker and swallowed my dear old 'blue and whites'.

"Hey, there," Allison's voice greeted me.

Shutting my locker, I found the dark hair brunette propped up, clearly waiting for me to notice her presence.

How long had she been standing there?

"Hey," I flashed a small smile, figuring she'd appreciate the friendly gesture.

The girl seemed to, cause she started chatting away about some animal she hit the night before and a guy that helped her take care of it.

"Sounds like a real hero," I responded sarcastically.

"Shut up," she laughed, curiously finding my dry humor funny. "Scott's a really nice guy."

"Scott? Scott McCall?" I perked up a bit, finding the juvenile conversation of a budding high school romance suddenly much more stimulating.

"Yeah. Do you know him?" she asked, brown eyes glistening at the thought of him.

"Yeah, no… I, ugh, I've just heard of him before. He's on the lacrosse team, right?" I feigned ignorance as she looked at me with an odd amount of intensity.

I had the feeling she wasn't buying my shady response.

"Yeah… he's really good," she responded slowly, still eyeing me closely as we walked down the hallway.

"Allison!" an overly friendly voice interrupted our conversation just at the nick of time.

Turning around we saw the celebrity power couple that was Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore parting the crowded hallways like the Red Sea and heading straight towards us.

"Hey Lydia," Allison flashed a bright, dimpled smile. "Hey, Jackson."

"Hi," he flashed a small, but actually honest smile, before finally noticing me. "Oh, you know Charlie?"

Looking up at the popularity obsessed, shallow lacrosse captain, I saw him staring back down at me with the same expression of abhorrence.

"Yeah, we met yesterday," Allison took no notice to our obvious distaste for one another as she grinned.

"Is that a real Prada bag?" Lydia asked out of the blue, causing all those present to look at her oddly. "Sorry," she giggled. "I know it's random, but I've been in love since with that bag since… well, forever, and had to ask."

"Oh," I glanced down at my white leather tote. "Yeah, it is."

"Oh my God! You're so lucky!" she practically squealed, hazel eyes gazing at my bag as if it were the most rare item on Earth. "Where'd you get it?"

"Ugh, my cousin bought it for me last year… for my birthday," I muttered, thoughts traveling back to Laura.

She was literally one of the best people I've ever met in my life. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she was gone, and the thought that the Alpha who murdered her was running around made my blood boil.

"That's literally the best gift ever," the girl with reddish blonde hair took both Allison and my arms, dragging us down the hall, taking no notice to just how uncomfortable I was by the sudden, unwarranted amount of human contact.

"Charlie has English with us," Allison spoke up, glancing at me and grinning at how stiff I looked.

Again, the fact that she was enjoying my misery appealed to my sick and twisted nature. Maybe she wouldn't make such a bad acquaintance after all…

"You do?" Lydia beamed, pulling me in even closer so that we were practically cheek-to-cheek. "You can totally sit with us!"

"Totally," my voice void of all enthusiasm, as I picked up on a low snort of laughter from Jackson behind us.

Turning the corner, I saw our classroom number and my stomach immediately knotted, and just like last time I entered a classroom, everyone stared right at me. This time, however, was very different.

Instead of the intimidating, probing stares one receives as an outsider, I was met with wide smiles and pleasant greetings.

"Hi, Allison! Hi, Charlie! Hey, Lydia!" a girl with glasses waved excitedly as Lydia pushed us down the isle, ignoring the welcoming completely.

"What the Hell is going on?" I asked under my breath to Allison as my eyes shifted from one beaming face to the next.

"Apparently if Lydia likes you, everyone likes you," she whispered back with a shrug. "I don't know… I'm just going with it."

Taking my seat between the most popular girl in school and Allison, I brushed my wavy, black hair out of my eyes.

"Scott, this is the girl I was telling you about," I heard Allison addressing someone else.

Looking up from my chipped nail polish, I saw the charming face of who had to be Scott McCall. Under his mop of thick dark brown hair, the boy with olive skin smiled a bit timidly.

"Hi, I'm Scott," he extended his hand.

Eyeing him intently, I reached out and did my best to seem approachable. I needed to get close to him after all…

"Charlie. Nice to meet you finally," I smirked devilishly, seeing a flustered Allison squirm a bit over my choice of words.

Chocolate brown eyes darting between the furiously blushing Allison and my clearly amused face, Scott sheepishly grinned before the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted the entire exchange.

"S-Scott… I really need to talk to you," an urgent male voice breathlessly stated.

Looking up, I immediately recognized him as the same nervous boy from Chemistry and the lacrosse team. Wearing a hoodie, he dropped his book-bag onto the ground and slid into the chair a bit clumsily.

Immediately noticing that he was interrupting something, the boy's light brown eyes flitted around at our curious stares.

"Ugh, h-hi," the words were rushed as he turned back to Scott and started saying something to him in hurried, hush tones.

Watching him bounce his leg furiously, I glanced at Allison who merely smirked and shook her head.

Leaning over she then explained: "That's Scott's best friend Stiles. Nice kid… just a little…"

"Energetic?" I raised a brow as a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"How much Adderall did you take?" I heard a somewhat annoyed Scott asked.

"A lot, but that doesn't matter," Stiles waved him off wildly. "You just need to listen to me about…" he suddenly stopped speaking, realizing that I was blatantly staring at them both.

Apprehensively smirking, the boy revealed that, he too had adorable dimples, but they soon disappeared as he quickly shifted positions so that his back was to me.

Voice lower than before and mouth covered, I turned to face the front of the classroom and tucked a few pieces of hair behind my ear, straining to hear.

That Stiles kid knew something, and I had to find out what.

Only picking up on a few of the words being exchanged, I mentally kicked myself for how weak my abilities had gotten. They were unfocused from my year of stifling such powers, and now when I needed them, all I could get was the constant babble of everyone else's side conversations.

Then, I heard it.

Lycanthrope… He said lycanthrope didn't he?

But just as I began to hone in on the conversation, the bell rang, ending whatever chances I had of figuring out what exactly was going on.

Sighing, I allowed the teacher's words about 'Metamorphosis' to go in one ear and out the other, as my thoughts traveled to the upcoming full moon.

A year of refusing to take wolf form and you'd think it would get easier, but that was a load a bullshit. Every month I grew more and more irritable, wanting to tear the throat out of anyone who looked at me the wrong way. That's why I'd been self-medicating so much. I needed to stay numb and keep those deep, dark urges buried.

But now with Laura's death and her killer on the lose, I was beginning to think that Derek was right about letting that inner-beast out every once and a while to regain control over myself when I was in wolf form; and as temping as it seemed, the idea of letting myself go, even for a moment still sent shivers down my spine.

I was a lot of things. A cold-hearted and snarky pill-popper that hated taking orders had a horrible temper, but I never thought that I was dangerous… not until that night. No, after the incident I finally understood that, deep down, I was a blood thirsty killer. I was the bad-guy.

"Charlie?" Allison asked, snapping me out of my deep thoughts.

"W-what?" I blinked a few times, looking around and realizing that Jackson, Lydia, and Allison were the only ones left in the classroom.

"The bell rang like five minutes ago," she notified me with an odd smile.

"Oh," I hurriedly packed my bag, "Sorry…"

"It's fine," Allison responded, as Lydia and Jackson waited impatiently by the door.

"Come on! We're gonna be late to Chemistry!" Lydia called with a wide smile.

"Coming," I threw my bag over my shoulder, still frowning a bit.

"You okay?" Allison asked with concern written across her delicate face.

Following everyone out into the hallway, it escaped me as to why this girl genuinely seemed to care. She didn't know me. Not really. And I could honestly say I wouldn't pay her the same courtesy if it weren't for her budding relationship with Scott.

"Yeah," I nodded my head, contorting my face into a wide, convincing smile.

"Okay, well will I see you at the scrimmage tonight?" she seemed to buy it, allowing me to drop the painfully joyous façade.

"Oh, you have to come!" Lydia chirped. "As a new student at Beacon Hills, you need to see how good the lacrosse team is!"

"State champions for three years in a row," Jackson boasted, puffing his chest out proudly.

"Only because of a certain team captain," Lydia fawned over her hubby as he got to the door of our next classroom.

"All right, then. See you guys later," Allison waved as she headed off to her own class.

Reluctantly waving, I turned to head into the Chemistry lab, only to have my path blocked by the overly PDA couple kissing in the doorway.

Feeling nauseous, I patiently waited in my spot, trying to look anywhere besides their smacking lips. Then, as they broke for air, I caught the image of Stiles staring longingly at Lydia from his seat, however my view of the downtrodden teen was soon blocked by their passionate continuation.

"All right, love birds," Danny's voice came from behind me, "Some of us wanna get to class sometime this century…"

Sighing with relief, I turned and gave him a thankful smile as the furiously giggling Lydia gave her boyfriend one last lustful look before waltzing into the classroom.

"Don't be jealous cause you're alone," Jackson teased his buddy as the two of them followed Beacon Hills' flushed queen bee.

"Jackson, even if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't be doing that," Danny responded as I took up the rear.

Boyfriend, huh? Explains why I felt so comfortable around him… and why he never tried to steal a peek at my rack…

Reaching my table, I found Stiles still secretly glancing at the totally oblivious Lydia, fixing her lip-gloss in her reflection on some of the lab equipment.

Unrequited ducky love straight out of 'Sixteen Candles'… thank God I'd never get caught up in one of those stupid high school love triangles…

Light brown eyes finally realizing that I was fully aware of his affections towards my new 'friend', Stiles glanced at me and tried to play it off as if the ceiling captivated him.

Chuckling despite myself, I turned around and played with my necklace.

"What's so funny?" Danny eagerly asked, wishing to be part of the joke.

"Oh," I grinned a bit, hearing Stile's' heart racing as he tried to see if I'd rat him out. "Nothing."

"You can't do that! It's not fair," Danny complained, brown eyes practically begging me to fill him in.

"Can't do what?" I played dumb, crossing my arms sassily.

"Fine," he huffed, trying to look offended. "Be that way."

Smirking wickedly, I flipped my raven black hair out of my face and smugly sat back, noticing the adorable brown-eyed boy's pulse slowed substantially down.

Chuckling and shaking his head, Danny was probably going to voice how unfair my silence was, but the bell rang, marking the start of yet another long, dull class.


Since today was Friday, my last period study hall was swapped out for a PE class, and although I loved to work out, Derek had given me strict instructions not to participate in any sports… probably due to his fear that I'd get worked up and lose control.

I couldn't say I blamed my cousin. I was naturally a competitive and hot-tempered person, and any type of contact sport would certainly send my heart rate sky-high.

But it wouldn't be another unlucky day in the life of Charlie Hale if Coach Bobby Finstock didn't announce that today's class would be a 'friendly' game of flag football.

"Great," I groaned, pulling at the overly revealing red booty-shorts Lydia lent me.

"What's wrong?" the peppy strawberry blonde asked, throwing her curled hair up in a ponytail.

"Ugh, nothing," I lied. "The shorts are just a little short…"

"Oh, shut up! You look hot! Kyle can't keep his eyes off you," she grinned, raising her brows as she nudged me playfully.

"Kyle?" I furrowed my brows in confusion, absentmindedly tugging the white t-shirt that clung tightly to my curves.

"Yeah, Greenberg," Lydia nodded over to the familiar Irish looking boy with blue eyes, and low and behold, there he was, practically smacking his lips like some kind of animal.

Gagging a bit, sarcasm dripped off my words as I avoided his creepily intense gaze: "Perfect…"

"Do you want me get Jackson to talk to him?" she asked.

Heading snapping to look at her, my eyes were wide as I spoke sharply: "Don't even think about it."

"Why? He's a cutie. You two would totally look good together," she continued, fanning herself in the hot Californian sun.

"I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a dull knife," I muttered, actually offended that the muscle juice guzzling, cocky jerk even remotely thought I'd be interested in him.

Throwing her head back, Lydia broke out into hysterical squeals: "Charlie, you're so bad!"

Wincing at her high-pitched laughter assaulting my all ready sensitive ears, I flashed a weak smirk before Coach Finstock started going down the class roster and dividing us into two teams.

"Greenberg, red… Whittemore, white… Lahey, red," the coach droned on, tossing red pennies at every other miserable student running by. "McCall, white… Mahealani, red… Stilinski, white…"

"Coach!" Jackson stopped glaring at his recent rival, Scott, for a split-second to gripe about Stiles joining his teen.

"Oh sure, pick on the guy with ADD," Stiles piped up, arms outstretched at he strode over to his team.

"Stilinski, you're ADD's not the problem. You're overall lack of athletic ability and hand-eye coordination, maybe… but definitely not your ADD," the coach shot back.

"Again, thanks for the continued support, Coach," he quipped right back, causing Scott to grin, and oddly enough, I found myself smirking at the gawky kid as well.

Rolling his eyes at Stiles' smart-ass retort, Coach Finstock continued, "All right, Lydia, go red, Heather, white… um, Erica, red, Charlotte, white…"

"It's Charlie," I corrected him as I pulled down my shorts some more and approached him.

"Sure, whatever, go white," he barely even glanced up at me.

Standing firm, I continued to steadily look directly up from him, and after a moment or two, I could tell he was growing uncomfortable.

"Something wrong?" he asked as he adjusted his baseball cap and raised his brows in irritation.

Trying my hardest to block out my staring peers, I shielded my sensitive eyes from the harsh sun and responded: "I, ugh, I can't play."

"Course you can," he tried to brush me off with a small chuckle, "Can't be any worse than Greenberg and Stilinksi."

"No, I actually can't play… I'm, um, not allowed," I reiterated myself, trying to sound intimidated by the man, although all I really wanted to do was tell him to lay off the burgers and eat a breath mint. "I have a note excusing me."

Pulling it out from my front pocket, I unfolded the letter Derek gave me in case I ran into trouble. Holding it out, I allowed the belligerent coach to yank it rather gruffly out of my hands.

Brushing my hair out of my face as a slight breeze rolled across the sweltering field, I glanced around at everyone's steady stares, and for a moment my eyes lingered on the familiar pair of large, light brown ones.

"I can't accept this," his voice was harsh, immediately causing me to frown up at him.

"What do you mean?" I tried my hardest to keep my impatient tone even.

"I'm gonna chalk this up to you being new here, but I need a note signed by a parent or guardian, not just some random family member," he unnecessarily tore the paper up, trying to prove some sort of a point.

Pulse racing, I felt a vein in my neck beginning to throb.

"I was told by the office an exception could be made," I said stiffly, staring him square in the eyes.

"Sure you were," he handed me back the torn document and leaned into my face. "I'm the one running this class and I say go over to your team and play some flag football unless you get me a parent's signature."

Face twitching a bit, I tried to tell myself this pathetic excuse of a man simply picked on teenagers cause his life sucked, but having him invade my space like that made it very hard to think rationally.

"I'm sorry, sir," I spoke slowly, my tone cold, "but I'm not playing and you're not getting that note."

Eyes widening in rage at my blatant disobedience, the coach opened his mouth and inhaled deeply, preparing to tear me a new one.

Before he could start shouting directly into my face, however, I cut the man off: "That is unless you can bring my dead mom back or at least find my dead-beat dad who skipped out on us when I was born."

Blinking a few times, Coach Finstock stared at me blankly, his expression one of shock.

Smirking smugly for shutting the bastard up, I saw the coach's eyes dart around at the gawking students.

Just as expected, a man like that could not allow for some new bratty teenager to undermine his authority in front of an entire class, so Coach Finstock cleared his throat and tried to save face: "I'll be talking to the vice-principal about this…"

"You do that," I mouthed off some more, crossing my arms with a crooked grin.

Visibly irate, the coach then barked: "Laps… for the entire period… unless you can't run either, princess."

Still grinning haughtily, I tied my long, wavy black hair back into a low ponytail and saluted snarkily: "Right away, coach!"

And with that, I turned my back to the furious man and jogged past the crowd of my peers, all of which could not seem to pick their jaws up from the ground.


The shrill sound of Coach Finstock's whistle was the most heavenly noise to reach my ears.

Although I loved a good run, the irritating whispers from my classmates and glowers from the coach proved to be a distraction, hindering me from fully enjoying myself.

Still, pumped up with endorphins, I welcomed the weekend just as joyously as the rest of the class, finishing my final lap at break-neck speed. I missed really pushing myself and exorcising those physical perks that came along with being a werewolf. School, however, was certainly not the place for that. Maybe training in the woods with Derek wasn't such a bad idea after all…

Congregating with the rest of the class, I pretended not to notice the coach's outright glares of hatred.

"Damn, you're fearless," Danny muttered from behind me.

Still panting, I wiped some of the sweat from my brow as I smirked.

"And feisty," Kyle Greenberg inched his way so close to me that I actually prayed he could smell how ripe I probably was. "I like that."

Grin fading, I simply looked at the kid with brown hair and blue eyes with a straight, emotionless face, causing him to look away with discomfort.

"And remember, big scrimmage right after school and since I know none of you have anything better to do, I expect to see you all there," Coach Finstock wrapped up his after-class speech.

Without another word, I tried to make a quick and quiet exit from the field to the back road to get home, but Lydia soon foiled my plans of escape.

"Charlie! Charlie, wait up!"

Trying to seem happy to hear her completely thrilled voice, I turned around and forced myself to wave with an awkward smile on my face.

"Where are you going?" she grabbed my arm, turning my unenthusiastic body around. "You promised you'd go to the game!"

"Oh, right. I forgot," I lazily gave my false reasoning.

My plan was to watch from afar, unnoticed by the rest of my peers, but I guess that wasn't going to happen…

"No you didn't," she smirked as if she knew something. "You wanted to go home and freshen up. I saw the way you looked at Kyle after class, and don't deny it!"

Unable to stifle my snort of utter disbelief that such a ridiculous statement came from her freshly glossed lips, I couldn't help but shake my head and smile dumbly.

"Trust me, that's definitely not it," I responded as Jackson approached us.

"Babe, we're gonna warm up soon and I want you to be there," he said, pulling her into a one-armed hug.

Gazing up at her hubby with glistening eyes, Lydia nodded and pecked him on the cheek: "I'll obviously be there."

"Good," he smirked, before his blue eyes finally acknowledged my presence: "You coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" I tried to sound like I was kidding.

"No," Lydia smiled. "You don't."

"All right, well I need to put some stuff in my locker, so I'll meet you out there," I bought myself some free time before being stuck playing the role of some school spirited teen.

"Okay, but don't take too long," Lydia called over her shoulder, nestling under Jackson's most likely stinky arm.

Giving her one last reassuring smile, the second that overly bubbly girl turned her back to me, I let that pleasant façade fade.

How long did Derek expect me to put up with this crap?

Turning back around, I began to trudge towards the building, my mind on nothing but the pills and pre-rolled joint I had stashed away in my locker, but again, it seemed as if fate wanted to continue testing me, for when I reached my locker, I found Allison and Scott flirting shamelessly, leaving an awkward Stiles leaning against my locker, tapping his foot and bobbing his head to music only he could hear.

"Hey, Charlie," Allison called with a wide, giddy smile as Scott turned around and waved at me pleasantly.

"Hey, guys," I approached my locker, while Stiles quickly jumped out of the way.

Obviously excited to no longer be a third wheel, Stiles Stilinski seemed to have plucked up a bit of courage to start a conversation with me.

"Sup, Charlie," he jerked his head, probably in an attempt to seem smooth.

"Sup?" I asked, trying not to grin at the hopelessly dorky kid grinning down at me.

"That was awesome… what you did back there," his voice was fast, gestures animated. "Telling off the coach like that… I mean his face when you said that whole thing about your parents..."

Pausing from what I was doing at the locker, I glanced up at his innocently smiling face and knew he meant no harm by his words, but based on the gaping expressions of Allison and Scott from behind him, I decided to toy with the poor guy.

"So you think its awesome my mom died and my dad walked out on us?" I asked with a deadpan expression.

Face falling immediately, Stiles' light brown eyes widened to the size of massive saucers as he put his hands up defensively: "N-no… no," he stammered, eyebrows raised as he moved about uneasily. "That, ugh, that came out wrong…"

Trying to hide my sheer amusement over just how much he was squirming over his folly, I remained silent which only caused the kid to ramble on some more.

"That came out so wrong… I meant you putting him in his place," Stiles laughed nervously, but eventually gave up trying to make up for his thoughtless words, opening admitting with a sigh: "I'm… I'm an idiot."

Unable to contain myself, I glanced one last time at the thoroughly embarrassed Scott and awkward Allison before breaking out into an entertained, crooked grin: "Yeah you are."

Crossing my arms, I waited while Stiles decided whether or not to try to salvage the conversation once more or walk away in shame.

Choosing the former, the energetic boy blurted out: "Why couldn't you play in PE anyway?"

Closing my locker and throwing my bag over my shoulder, I responded in my characteristically straight-faced and flat tone of voice: "My therapist thinks I might hurt someone if I play contact sports…"

Unsure of how to take my words, Stiles glanced at a just as lost Scott before smiling uneasily at me. When I remained emotionless with the exception of a cocked brow, however, the boy's face became visibly uncomfortable: "Oh…"

Then hearing Allison's giggles from behind the two boys, I couldn't help but break out in a wicked smirk.

And as the boys looked to her, they finally realized that I was, at least, partially kidding, causing the both of them to chuckle in relief.

Shutting my locker, I then gazed at my three classmates and said: "Well… this was fun… but I'm gonna go."

"Ugh, yeah, o-okay… bye," Stiles nervously babbled while Scott merely shook his head at his slightly socially awkward friend.

"See yah later," he muttered with an apologetic grin.

"You're coming to the game right?" Allison asked for reassurance.

Sighing, I nodded my head heavily: "Pretty sure Lydia would send out a search party if I didn't show up…"

Chuckling, Allison agreed with my statement while Stiles' brown eyes seemed to pop out of his head at the mention of his secret lover's name.

"All right… well I'll meet you out there," I gave them all a curt nod before turning and heading down the hall.

Fifteen minutes… that was plenty of time to blaze up and make this scrimmage as painless as possible…


"No way!" I shook my head vehemently from my spot on the couch. "No way in Hell I'm going to some stupid high school party…"

"You're going," Derek continued to stand in front of the fireplace, impeding the light from reaching the pages of the last chapter of 'The Hobbit'.

"I made friends with Scott and the rest of those 90210 clones… even went to that stupid lacrosse game. I'm done for today," I tried to shift my position to continue reading.

Pulling the book out of my hands rudely, my obnoxious older cousin stared down at me with a hard look.

"It's his first full moon… and if he's going with some girl…"

"He's gonna be fine," I cried in exasperation, cutting him off. "Nothing crazy happened at the scrimmage, and nothing's gonna happen at the party."

"There's gonna be alcohol there," Derek wasn't giving up.

Raising my eyebrows with a falsely shocked expression, I gasped: "So that's what's in those red cups…"

"Don't be a smartass," my cousin was testier than usual… no doubt due to the full moon, as well.

"I just think you're being overly cautious," I responded, mind still fixated on the story I was about to finish.

"Can't blame me for that… teenage werewolf gets drunk, loses control, and kills some innocent… now why does that sound so familiar?" his green eyes were harsh and critical.

Feeling my chest tighten up, my eyes began to burn as I glared up at him. How could he say that to me? Derek and Laura were there when I found out what I had done… they saw me snap. So for him of all people to throw something like that back in my face…

Shooting him death rays, I tried to hide how painfully upset I was by appearing purely angry.

Stony expression faltering a bit, I could tell that he was regretting his words, but I didn't care. It was too low of a blow.

Rising from my seat, I stood directly in front of my older cousin and caustically shot back some of my own venom: "Don't you dare look down your nose at me, you hypocritical son of a bitch. Maybe I've made some mistakes, but at least I've learned from them. And let's not forget your body count either, cousin, or have you forgotten about Paige all ready?"

Green eyes flashing dangerously, Derek clenched his jaw and took a step closer.

Now, toe-to-toe with a just as incensed cousin, we shot daggers at one another, neither one of us willing to back down or apologize.

"Go get ready for the party," he hissed darkly.

"Or what?" I narrowed my eyes, sizing him up with the snottiest of expressions.

"Don't test me," he glowered dangerously.

"According to you, I'm the only blood-thirsty monster here, so no, Derek… don't test me," I corrected him, meaning every word I said as I glared up at his stormy face with a look of pure hatred.

Simply choosing to remain silent, Derek did not try to respond to my heart-felt threat, which I had to admit I was glad about.

My cousin and I were cut from the same bull-headed cloth. Our tempers got us into confrontational situations, but our pride would not let either of us bow out from the impending fight.

Not saying I'd actually kill him, and nor did I think Derek would ever actually end my life, but we certainly would've had a long, painful brawl destroying what little was left of our old home in the forest.

Storming away, I stalked upstairs through the dim hallways, trying to slow down my heart rate, for once I entered my bedroom and turned on the lantern, I saw that my hauntingly pale gray eyes were now the iciest shade of blue.

Gripping the dresser, I scrunched my eyes shut, breathing in and out, trying to keep a steady rhythm, and after a few minutes of this exorcise, I finally regained my composure.

Opening my eyes, I found that they had returned to their natural silvery hue, but this time around they were glassy and filled with the tears I refused to shed.

Walking over to my decrepit armoire, I yanked open the double doors and took out both pill bottles.

Sniffling furiously, I blinked the burning tears away, only to have them come back.

Hand's trembling, I crushed a couple of the pills up and swallowed the lump in my throat. Then, rolling up the twenty I had lying on the dresser, I snorted the two lines I neatly laid out for myself and sat back in my chair, letting the familiar and welcomed numbness spread throughout my body.