Chapter 1

Present Day

The building loomed overhead. I looked up at it with resigned resentment, clenching my jaw slightly and lifting the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder as I took a deep breath and shook my hands out.

"Get a grip, Simone," I muttered. Usually, I was able to traipse the halls of this place without a problem. But it was different now. Everything's different. I also used to have a best friend to lean on—my family, my cousin. I missed her desperately, and pain welled up hot and fast in my chest, just like I had drawn a blade across my heart and blood beaded up through the wound. I flexed my fingers and nearly threw a punch as someone's hand latched onto my shoulder.

"How's it feel?" Said Chase, a cocky junior who liked to feel me up occasionally at his house parties.

Like I'm drowning. "Feels like home," I confidently grinned, looping my arm behind his back at the same moment his hand slid around my shoulders. We walked like that, arms around each other, as he tugged me in closer and smiled lazily, like a cat, as we strolled. He throws the wildest parties, and I liked him because he didn't usually pry into my past. But I wasn't picky these days.

"Well, just let me know if anyone is giving you trouble this semester, okay?" He patronizingly instructed me as we stepped onto the sidewalk and merged with the stream of teenagers.

"Chase," I scrunched my face up and shook my head. "That's sweet. Really. But I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know," He smirks, tugging me even closer. I looked away from his face and focused on the green plaid backpack of the girl in front of us, clenching my jaw. "You can definitely handle yourself. It's why I like you," His fingertips swept slightly across my collarbone, and I quelled the urge to snap one of those fingers in half. I wasn't in the mood today. "But I just want to let you know you're not alone."

"That's really great of you," I say dryly. My sarcasm went unnoticed as he swelled with pride.

"It is, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes. "God, Chase, you're incorrigible." Is what I said. What I meant is: Holy shit, Chase. You're so full of yourself, it's disgusting. Get away from me.

"Mona," called a feminine voice from behind us. There's one girl who is still allowed to call me that, and I involuntarily stiffened from the toes up as it registered that apparently she would start in on me early today. Chase's arm dropped from my shoulder as he turned to leer at Lydia Martin, in her green shirt that tied at the waist and her high waisted floral skirt, the toe of her pink heels tapping passive-aggressively. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked, though the question was now directed at Chase, not me.

I raised an eyebrow and silently took enjoyment out of watching Chase scramble with finding what to say. "I was just going to invite Simone here to a party—"

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" She snapped, completely uninterested in whatever his intentions actually were to talk to me.

He frowned, unconsciously stepping away from me with an uncomfortable lift of his shoulder. "Uh, yeah, so what—"

"So maybe you should stop petting my friend's ass," She seethed, latching onto my wrist and dragging me to stand by her side, which I let her do as I peered back at Chase with hidden amusement. He looked to me, as if expecting me to stand up to Lydia, but I only stood beside her and offered him a weak smile of apology.

"…Hint taken." He finally said. "You can forget the party," He added bitterly, shoulder checking me on his way past.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure that'll keep her up at night. Missing out on another raving time at the trailer park," Lydia's icy voice whipped out at him as he stalked away from us, a cloud of anger now following over his head. I sighed and licked my lips.

"Aaand, there's another bridge burned. Tell me, how does it feel? Ruining lives?" I crossed my arms and cocked my hips. "Is it satisfying?"

"Don't be ungrateful," Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder as her eyes flickered over my outfit. "It's a full time job, watching over you, and I don't expect to get paid with your attitude."

"Good," I smartly replied, tilting my head. "Then we're agreed. That's the last time you do that."

"Only if you'll stop throwing your life away!" She stomped her foot and her voice rose even higher, which tells me that there's no turning back now. She's on a tangent. There's no way to stop it, you can only ride it out from here. "You're the smartest girl I know, Simone," She continued, taking me aback. The fact that Lydia Martin just said that to me adds a whole new dimension to what she just said. "Which is why I can't seem to understand why you're acting so stupid!"

"How am I acting stupid!?" My voice rose with my anger, and we were drawing a bit of a crowd at this point, a fact which we both managed to beautifully ignore. "Because I'm living? Because I'm being a teenager? Because I'm being normal for once in my life—acting like the reckless teenager that we have all missed out on being?"

"Normal," She laughed—laughed. It made me angry enough to want to claw her eyes out, as the smile on her pretty face looked down at me from way up on her throne, blinding me like the sun and almost causing my eyes to water. I wanted to scratch it from her face. "We can never be normal, Mona!"

"Don't—" I threw my finger up in her face, wiping the smirk from her lips as I physically forced myself to take a deep breath before continuing. "Call me that. Ever. And don't think that just because you were her best friend that that means something to me, because it doesn't. It didn't then, and it doesn't now! It doesn't grant you the right to try and force my hands off the wheel so you can steer me in the direction you think I need to be going. It's my life, Lydia, and if I want to fuck it up, it's none of your business!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Stiles Stilinski forced his way between the two of us moments before the ticking bomb that is Lydia Martin exploded, placing a heavy, placating hand on her shoulder as he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows sarcastically at me. "What a stunning argument from you, Simone, really. That's a healthy view on life." My eyes narrowed, but he continued as if he didn't notice. "Come on, now, girls," He shook his head. "It's a new day. It's a new beginning. Let's just let the past stay in the past, huh? I'm sure there's a cheesy motivational phrase somewhere in this speech I'm giving, I'm just a little flustered to think of it at the moment," His mole-dotted face flashed between the two of us. "Okay? Alright? You're both mature, capable people. You can work through this. We're okay. We're all good here."

"Alright," I snapped, batting his hand off me. "Whatever. We're good." I didn't spare Lydia a second glance, despite the guilt that did tug at my heart, and came up short upon seeing the face that I actively tried to avoid these days.

Scott McCall. He looked at me like I struck him across the face, the physical embodiment of the reaction that I felt once I saw him, too. I was just a little better at hiding it. Scott and I grew pretty close while he dated my cousin. I know he loved her with all he had, through everything, and I would venture to say that he was even one of my best friends for a period there.

It only hurts to see him now. I can never gather the courage to talk to him directly though, although the reason for my trepidation always eluded me.

"Ah," I winced. I looked down at my feet as his sad eyes watched me. He's been avoiding me, too, ever since… And it's been a while. I know that Scott is a good guy; I know it's slightly out of character for him, but I also know that Allison always looked more like a sister to me than a cousin. It seems that anyone who loved Allison has trouble looking me in the eye now. Hell, I have trouble looking myself in the mirror, so I can't blame them a bit. It's been a while since I've talked to someone while looking them in the eye. Yet another strange side effect of my ongoing grief.

It seems like all I do is lose the people I care about, and not just to death. As I look at Scott, I know I've lost him, too, and that hurts more than it would've if he'd died.

Without a word, I stepped around them and continued past to finally enter the school. I felt the stares of my friends behind me, and everything in me was screaming to turn around and run back to them. But that would hurt too much. I was still too far gone, and the further I grew from them, the harder I knew it would be to reestablish that connection. But still, I kept walking. It's hard to convince myself to turn back to them when I know they're better off without me in the long run.

I can't lie. I'm worried. It's why I find myself at lacrosse tryouts. I've heard rumors of an exceptionally excellent freshman trying out for the team, and after what Scott has been through… if he's anything like me, which I know he is, then he's been having a hard time acting like himself lately. I know he's been distracted, because even though I might not directly interact with my group as much as I used to, it certainly doesn't mean I no longer care for them. Quite the opposite. I ache, I miss them so much, but it seems like I just can't find the right words to say… and they've been too wrapped up in their own stuff to realize it. Which, is fine.

Still, I worry. I made a promise to Allison that I would watch over him, over all of them for her. That I would make sure they're okay. A promise that I fully intend to keep, in spite of the new lifestyle I've adopted.

I shift in my spot on the metal bleachers, waving at the group of my 'friends' who were currently trying to flag me down. I held up a finger, trying to tell them to give me a minute, and they looked confused but settled down. Still, they threw me judgmental glances every now and then. But it didn't actually hurt me, because if I'm honest with myself I know they don't actually care about me. And I don't actually care about them.

I turned my attention to the entrance of the field, where Scott and Stiles were about to step through.

"Scott, relax. You got your grades up, right? So you have nothing to worry about! We have like, a million things to worry about, but our spots on the team aren't one of them, okay?" Stiles had his bag slung over his shoulder, and it bobbed against his leg as he walked and talked with his hands constantly moving through the air. As per usual.

I felt a tug at my heart as I took in Scott's anxious voice, seeing the way his shoulders were slumped slightly as he responded to Stiles. "Sure, I got my grades up, but that doesn't mean I'm guaranteed a spot on the team! Coach specifically said that all the spots on the team were open. And have you heard all the rumors about a new kid? He's supposed to be so good, people are already talking about him being the captain!"

"What?" Stiles frowned. "Scott, no. Don't be ridiculous. Everyone at Beacon Hills knows you're the captain. You're like, a legend." I raised my eyebrows that intensely high praise that just poured from Stiles' mouth. Scott shifted and grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, ever the adorably humble hero. It was quite the compliment, and perhaps it was a little… over projected. High school sports have always been overly glorified in my opinion, but I knew how it good it made the players feel when they had a stand full of fans screaming their names, and I know that Scott has had a healthy dose of fanfare. So I guess I can understand where they're coming from. "Seriously… But we have bigger things to worry about. Did you tell Argent yet?"

I perked up and leaned against the metal railing of the bleachers, poking my face down so that I could see them better where they stood on the walkway to the field. "Tell me what?" I chirped, before they could continue. They boys whipped around like I had fired a gun at them, not eavesdropped on their conversation, and guilt sang from their faces. It only served to make me more curious, so I stood up and quickly hopped over the railing, plopping on the ground in front of them. They exchanged desperate, panicky faces, both at a loss. "Uh oh," I smirked, focusing on Stiles. "I know that look. Don't even try to lie, you're totally busted, guys."

"Lie?" Stiles snorted with too much amusement to be believable. "We wouldn't! And we aren't! And it's not! And… What are you even talking about? We told you already."

Scott's jaw dropped. It was enough to tell me that that was a blatant lie, too. Stiles masked a wince at his friend's obviously suckish lying skills. "I think you two need to communicate better." I smugly crossed my arms. "It's getting hard for me to keep your lies straight."

Scott sighed and they held a silent conversation that consisted of meaningful looks, clueless shrugs, and mouths popping open and closed. "Maybe… maybe this is a conversation for another time." Scott said, finally speaking right at me. And I mean right at me. He even looked me in the face, his eyes grave and his crooked jaw tight. It made me almost hesitate to pry the truth from them.

Almost.

"Wait, Scott," Stiles put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. "She's Simone Argent." Scott and I both looked at him with scrunched, narrowed gazes of confusion and annoyance. Obviously. "I mean, this effects her, too; she has the right to know."

"Another time." Scott reiterated, more forcefully this time. "I mean, really, Stiles? We're at lacrosse, on the lacrosse field." He paused, his eyes flickering to the field for a second. "At school." Stiles seemed to understand what he was saying, but still seemed hesitant. "In public."

"Okay, okay!" I waved them off. "Another time. Geez… you kids, you're so full of deep, dark revelations. It's exhausting." They both visibly sagged with relief that I appeared to be letting them off the hook. I punched them both in the shoulders. "It's fine, tell me later."

The whistle blew, signaling the beginning of tryouts. We all swiveled to look as Garret dug his heels into the grass a bit, standing at the head of a small group of lacrosse players gathered some distance in front of the goal. He nodded at a fellow player, one I knew to be a senior but could not for the life of me recall his name (he had a bushy black ponytail).

And then it began. Garret, in his usual athletic prowess fashion, used his lacrosse stick like it was an extension of his arm, effortlessly scooping a ball out of the little pile pooled around his feet and hurling it toward the goal, where another player waited inside.

I knew most of the players well. I also knew there would be a few freshmen, and it was always amusing to me when rookies failed miserably in competitive things—like sports, for example. It was part of the reason I didn't mind attending the tryouts in the first place; one of the perks to keeping Allison's promise. Free entertainment.

But the biggest reward of all has got to be the fact that Beacon Hills High has the most attractive boys in attendance I've ever seen. Anywhere, ever. And I've lived out of the country for a spell, in Canada. It's where I'm from. So, not that that has much to do with seeing a variety of hot boys, I'm just saying, I've been around. Nowhere else has the kind of gene pools that the families in Beacon Hills seems to be blessed with. It must be something in the water, I dunno. Or maybe it's the simple fact that a small portion of them have superhuman qualities, and good looks go along with that.

I don't dwell on it. I don't question it.

This particular rookie was… enthralling. Immediately, I feel the rug pulled out from under me as this 'rookie' raises his lacrosse stick half a foot, like he knew exactly where the ball would land (and he probably did) and effortlessly caught it.

Not how I saw this going in my head, and my jaw dropped as Garret and ponytail worked their magic and mechanically launched ball after ball at him, in random spots—never the same place twice, and this kid just plucked them from the air like they were moving in slow motion.

"What," Stiles squeaked behind me. "Who—how?" The whistle blew again, signaling the end of that tryout. Probably mostly because Garret and ponytail had run out of balls to fling at him—dirty thoughts, dirty, dirty thoughts—

My eyebrows rose as I took in the lacrosse balls lying around him, and he confidently, and probably a tad bit smugly (understatement) lifted the helmet from his head. I was only further impressed to see his head full of dirty blonde, short hair that was spiked a bit with sweat, and his chiseled jaw. His eyes were blue enough for me to make out their cerulean color from across the field, and I noted that his front teeth were slightly crooked as he grinned, which managed to knock his attraction back down to the human level. And that played right into my wheelhouse.

I tried not to drool too much as Garret clapped the new kid on the shoulder and actually paid him a compliment—which, given what just happened, isn't surprising, but given that it's Garret, sort of is surprising. "Nice, Liam. You might just be the first freshman captain." The new guy—Liam—beamed at him and proceeded to do that jock thing where he nods coolly at the ponytail guy and taps the end of his lacrosse stick with his in a manly fashion… it was all really very impressive. Note my sarcasm.

Still, I can't deny that I'm impressed, and attracted to him. I might have loads of criticizing comments to make about lacrosse and athletic behavior in general, but guess what? I'm here, aren't I? And I think that says more than I ever could. It's kind of like how a lot of people talk shit about Taylor Swift, but then when her songs come on they're belting it out with everyone else. You can talk all the shit you want, but you're singing along, so who's really winning here?...

"There's no way he's human." Stiles said, and for a moment I laughed, misinterpreting him. And then I realized he was being one hundred percent sincere. My smile dropped and I reconsidered his words, my mind flashing back to how quickly Liam was able to catch the balls. How effortless he made it look.

If I'm honest, it's exactly how Allison described Scott looking not so long ago. I wasn't here to witness it myself, since last year was my first, but from what she describes, he made it look pretty effortless, too. It didn't matter how Jackson threw the balls at him: erratically or just really fast, he caught it every time.

And now, here's Liam, doing the same thing Scott did years ago. How are we not supposed to reach the same conclusion, given everything we know now? It doesn't seem out of the realm of possibilities. But I was raised a hunter. I went through the same training Allison did, the same blood runs through my veins, and something about Liam just doesn't scream werewolf to me. I said as much to them, cautiously, and was immediately met with a snort from Stiles.

"You're just saying that because you think he's hot!" He cried, and I scoffed, crossing my arms and trying to play it off.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Stilinski," I haughtily pointed my nose up at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Ya got a little drool there, Simone," He gestured to his chin and I scowled at him.

But before I could comment, Scott broke in. "Simone," He started, grabbing all of my attention as he addressed me directly for the second time today. I still couldn't muster the courage to look in his eyes as he spoke, and it seemed the feeling was mutual as he shifted slightly. "Do you honestly believe he's human? After what we just saw? You don't think there's the slightest chance that he's—" Scott broke off and threw me a meaningful look.

I sighed at how obvious he was being, at how bad he still seems to be at hiding things, and wondered—not for the first time—how this guy has kept his secret for so long.

"I guess…" I paused, glancing back over at where Liam was. He was heading towards the locker room and laughing confidently with some of the other players, his strong shoulders back and his chest puffing out as they continued to praise him and build him up. I looked back to Scott and Stiles. "You make a good point. I can't lie."

Stiles threw a hand out, "Thank you," He breathed. "And now, this jerk is going to sweep in and try to steal your spot as captain on the team!"

"Hey, stop that!" I scolded. I flipped through what little sports knowledge I had, trying to think of the best thing to say to motivate them. "Just, go show your mettle, or whatever." They gave me identical looks screaming wtf. "What?" I uncomfortably shifted. "I—I dunno! I'm not sporty! I don't know how to do this! Don't break a leg, ah," I quickly reached out to smack both of their butts, and they hopped away from me, batting at my hands with their eyes bulging out. "Go get 'em, tiger!" I cheered with a feigned-manly voice, pumping my fist in the air. "Get in there!"

They seemed torn between laughing and shuddering with disgust as they decided not to comment at all, not even trying to offer me relief for that majorly awkward social interaction that I just knew I had gotten wrong. Maybe that's only okay for the coaches to do…

"Ya think?" Finstock said from beside me.

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" I frowned, and he scoffed and shook his head as if he was disappointed in me. "Hey, listen," I waved to him before he could turn away. "I know that new guy is really good, but…" He raised his eyebrows as if waiting for me to make a point. I hesitated, wondering if I really had to ask.

"Come on, Simone," He grunted in his scratchy voice, his black eyebrows raised impatiently. I was one of the only students of his that he didn't call by last name. I think it's a habit from when Allison and I were still attached at the hip. He couldn't call us by our last names, we would both respond, so he got used to calling us by our actual names. But even though he called me by my first name, he still managed to make it sound like it was an insult. "I don't got all day! I got a practice to finish here, my time is money!"

"I—I guess I'm just saying… Scott is the team captain. Right?" He blinked at me. "I mean, it's his junior year! That guy is a freshman! Of course he's the captain!"

Finstock shrugged at me, his arms flapping out as he waved his clipboard at me as if he could clear my words from the air, they were so ridiculous, and he began to back away from me. "What's age got to do with it? All positions are open."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he turned his back on me, and I sighed pathetically after him.

Sorry, Allison. I'm trying.

Alright, so I lied. This story has actually not gotten a review yet at all! But... I'm posting the first chapter anyway, because I realized maybe the best introduction to the story, and they best way to get you guys really wanting more would be to introduce you to the character and have her interacting with the other characters. Prefaces aren't really much to go off of.

So NOW you can let me know what you think XD Hahah...

Also, if there's anyone out there willing to discuss ideas for the story with me, I wouldn't object...