Textbooks held awkwardly under one arm, Jamie squinted at the piece of paper in her hand. She'd seen 300 year old treasure maps that were easier to read than this thing. According to the map, the hall she was in didn't exist. She hated to admit it but she could use some help finding her first class. Not that she'd ask that lacrosse player to help her. The look of horror on his face when he found out he was supposed to show the girl in the hand-me-down clothes around school – he couldn't get away from her fast enough. And the way he stared at her in the hall like she was some sort of freak. Ugh! Jocks. They were the same in every school.

"What class are you looking for?" came a voice from behind her.

Books clattered to the floor as Jamie spun around, brandishing her largest textbook as a weapon.

Stiles jumped back, holding his hands out in front of him. "Whoa! Jumpy, much?" Keeping a wary eye on her, he slowly crouched to pick up her books.

She bent down with him. She didn't need help. She sighed. OK, if she had any hope of making it to class before next week, she might need a teensy tiny bit of help. She bit back her pride. "I'm hoping to find my locker before class so I don't have to lug these books around anymore. But I have no idea where my locker or my class are. For all I know they're at opposite ends of the school."

"Are you sure you want to put all your books in your locker?" He held up Jamie's second most menacing textbook and raised one eyebrow. "How will you defend yourself?"

Jamie gave a tight smile. He was just joking. No need for him to know she also had a dagger in her boot. "I'll have to get creative."

The guy smiled back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Stiles. Everyone calls me Stiles." He picked up her registration form, "and you're…Jamison Silver?" His eyes narrowed as he glanced up at her. "Interesting name." His golden eyes scanned her, seeming to peer right into her.

Jamie shifted uncomfortably, her arms wrapping the textbooks against her chest. "I go by Jamie. Which you'd know if you were listening when Coach Finstock introduced me. Jamison is my mother's maiden name." She wasn't sure why she felt the need to defend herself. She was proud of both her names. And why was he still staring at her?

"It was your last name I was talking about. Silver in French is Argent, isn't it?"

Jamie froze. She hadn't heard that name in a long time. She cleared her throat, buying time. "And Stilinski in French is still Stilinski. Your point?"

"Nothing, just that there's an Allison Argent that goes here." Stiles looked at her carefully. "You're not related, are you?"

Aw, Hell. How had they managed to miss that particular detail about Beacon Hills? Jamie shook her head a little too vigorously. "No, they're not even the same language. My family is from England. Hers is probably France, or Belgium, or French Congo, when it was called French Congo. Not related at all." Now she was babbling.

Stiles gave her another curious look before going back to her registration form. "You're in luck. Your locker is just across the hall from your first class." He motioned her ahead and they started walking as the bell rang. "English, Biology, History. Wow, no wonder I got volunteered for Welcome Wagon. We have three classes together, plus homeroom." He stopped in front of locker #827. "And, your locker is three down from mine. He spun the dial, popped it open and swung the door open.

You could tell a lot about a person by their locker. What was Stiles' like? Jamie stepped closer. Empty. "I see you're going for a minimalistic look."

He laughed. "This is your locker. Mine is #830."

Jamie grabbed the registration form from Stiles. Sure enough, #827 and the locker combination. "It's creepy that you now know my locker combination."

Stiles shrugged. "Creepy is a step up from icky. I'll take it."

Jamie wondered at a jock using self-deprecating humor, but not for too long as she noticed they were the only ones left in the hall. "We're late."

"It's OK, we're right across the hall for English. Besides, I've got a buy. I've been showing the new girl the ropes." He put her textbooks on the top shelf.

How had Jamie not noticed that Stiles had been carrying most of her books? She dumped the remaining few on the bottom of her locker and hung up her jacket. Grabbing a binder back out, she started searching for a book that looked like it would be for English.

Stiles held out a small paperback. The Crucible. - a tale of hysteria, those falsely accused and their accusers. At least she understood the material.

Together, they walked into English class. "How far through The Crucible are we?" Jamie asked.

But Stiles wasn't listening. He was too busy watching a couple on one side of the classroom, huddled together, holding hands. Obviously the school power couple. The girl, with a lush mane of red hair, smiled at Stiles, but it dropped off her face when she spotted Jamie beside him. Hmm, some sort of history there. It shouldn't take her long to figure out what the story was.

Jamie shook her head. What was she thinking? There were plenty of things that needed investigating in Beacon Hills, and the relationship between Stiles and the redhead wasn't one of them. She focused on the male member of the power couple. Good looking in an uptight preppy kind of way, he had no hidden backstory. His sneer was there for everyone to see as he sized her up, took in her clothing, and found her lacking. Asshole.

"You're late, Stiles," the female teacher closed the door behind them.

"I sacrificed my perfect attendance record to be a good Samaritan, helping Jamie here find our class."

"Perfect attendance? You were late three times last week."

"But this is the first time I've been late this week."

"It's only Monday." She shook her head at Stiles. "But good of you to help Jamie get here. When Allison Argent first moved to town she missed my first class completely. That's what I get for being in the wing that doesn't exist."

There was that name again. The Argents hadn't been in town long. That would explain the bad intel. She'd have to look into that. But if there were Argents here, she was on the right track. And as much as she hated to admit it, Stiles was growing on her. He was funny, in a smart-ass kind of way. But she liked smart asses – had been called one herself more than once.