Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. Some of Peter's conversation came directly from the show, I did not come up with the lines.
I wanted to run, but I was pretty sure Derek was waiting outside for me to do just that. Instead, I walked down a step. Then another. Then another, until I was standing level with all the moving bodies.
It dawned on me—somewhere between my third and fourth panicked breath—that I legitimately did not know what I was supposed to do. I was at school, but where was I supposed to go? What classes was I supposed to be in? I didn't know.
A scent wafted up around me. It was a light, floral type smell. Familiar, because traces of it were still in the guest room at Derek's. It was Lydia's. The type of perfume she wore, maybe. She had told me to find her or Scott or Stiles if anything was too much for me, and just being here was too much for me.
I inhaled deeply, sorting through the dozens of different smells for hers. When I found it again, I started moving. I might have bumped into a few people, knocking shoulders unintentionally as I locked onto Lydia. She wasn't too hard to follow. I turned left into one hallway and right when I reached the corner, and there she was, standing at her locker.
I ghosted up to her, not sure if I should say hi or just wait for her to see me. A second later, she closed her locker and jumped, seeing me and solving my dilemma altogether. "AJ," she said crossly. "It's not nice to sneak up on people." I shrugged, trying to find a way to ask for help.
"I don't know…what…to do," I told her finally.
Her eyebrows shot up, but then realization hit. "Come on, I'll take you to the guidance counselor. They'll help you figure it all out." She grabbed my arm, much in the same way as when she'd dragged me shopping, and marched me down the hall with her. People stared as we walked by, and I could some of the whispers asking who I was. Lydia seemed to like the attention, though, so I just kept my eyes to the front and tried not to let all the heavy stares bother me.
We ended up in a small reception type area. Lydia walked me up to an office door and knocked. "Come in," called a voice that I unfortunately recognized. Lydia walked in, but I stayed outside. "Lydia," the voice continued, sounding slightly surprised. "I didn't know we had an appointment scheduled."
"We don't," Lydia said abruptly, walking back out again only to drag me inside. I came to a halt in front of the guidance counselor's desk, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.
"AJ. How nice to see you again," Ms. Morrell said. She didn't sound surprised anymore, and I raised my eyes, staring her down for a long while. She wasn't the least bit intimidated. It irked me. Back at Eichen House, she had always reacted calmly to anything I'd done. It seemed today was no different. "Please, have a seat." She motioned to the chair, and I slid into it, unable to decline.
Lydia turned, preparing to go, and I had the sudden urge to grab her arm so she would stay. I didn't know why. But I kept my hands to myself, and she walked out, leaving me to gaze wistfully at the now empty doorway.
"AJ," Ms. Morrell said softly, reclaiming my attention. I turned to face her slowly. Usually our talks always started out with how my day was going, and if I was keeping myself under control. But then they always morphed to the accident, and what had happened during my eight years in the wild. I didn't like talking about that, but Morrell always seemed to get at least something out of me, no matter how hard I tried to keep it buried.
More than anything, I didn't want to deal with that today. I just wanted to blend in, and maybe find Scott.
Thankfully, she didn't want to talk. Instead, she handed me a piece of paper. "This is your schedule. Each class has the classroom number and the teacher's name by it in addition to the time it starts. Derek came by yesterday and filled out the paperwork, and I already talked to your teachers. They have been informed of your situation and will work to accommodate you as much as possible."
She leaned towards me, her face suddenly hard. "You're a very smart kid, AJ. Just because you have a lot of catching up to do, doesn't mean you can just slack off and blame it on the knowledge gap. I know you, and I know how smart you are. If you really want to learn, then you will definitely be able to succeed here. Do you understand?"
I nodded, unable to look away as she pinned me in place. Then she leaned back, and it was like the spell was broken. I looked down at my shoes, folding the paper into small, symmetrical squares. Ms. Morrell sighed. "We're trying to make this as painless as possible for you. I arranged your class schedule so that you'll at least have most of your classes with someone you already know. And if you ever need any help, academically or personally, you can always come to me."
Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen. I went into conversations with her in strict silence, and I always came out of them feeling like there was a rock in my chest instead of a heart. She had a way with words, and I didn't like it. She shouldn't be able to make me feel something I don't want to feel just by talking.
I think Ms. Morrell saw my defiance because she sighed. "I'm not the enemy here, AJ. I'm trying to help." I shrugged, folding and unfolding my schedule without meeting her eyes. She sighed again. "Well, just remember—the classes are in order on your schedule, and they have the start time, room number, and teacher right next to the name. The first few days will be rough, but as soon as you establish a routine, things will get better. You're going to be fine."
I stood, feeling like that was a dismissal, and walked out. There was a map of the school on the back of my schedule, and I glanced at it, navigating the halls with quiet unease. This place was big and noisy, and I didn't like it. But Derek would know if I didn't go, so attending class was the only option I had. Plus, Scott went to school, so the more I went, the more time I had to talk to him and figure out how to control the change.
I came to a halt just outside the first door, trying to prepare myself. People filtered past me into the classroom, but I couldn't make myself go in. I didn't want to. I was almost about to turn around and leave when Stiles' voice caught me. "AJ," he called—sounding way too cheerful to be here—as he made his way toward me. He slapped me on the shoulder and practically pushed me into the classroom, taking the choice out of my hands. "Welcome to English class," he said, sliding into a desk and motioning for me to do the same.
I did, but I never once stopped wondering how I was going to make it through the day. The bell rang, and the teacher stood up from his desk. "Good morning, class," he said. "As promised, today we will be working on our personal essays. More importantly, how to write one without sounding like an illiterate idiot." Most of the class let out a quiet chuckle, but I just stared. What had my life come to?
Despite my initial misgivings, English was easy. I could read and I could write. It made sense to me. It took certain things to make a sentence. A noun, a verb, and other stuff. If you didn't have all the parts, then it wasn't a sentence—easy as that. The class passed pretty quickly, and I didn't feel the need to break someone's face when it was over.
Chemistry was a bit harder. There were so many words and phrases that I didn't know. We got to mix chemicals together, though, and then they turned into foam and shot out of our beakers. That part was kind of fun. My lab partner, a guy named Jared, kept threatening to vomit the whole time, so I got to do most of the mixing. I could smell both the chemicals before the reaction, and then afterwards, their smell was gone, replaced by a single new smell. So that kind of helped when the teacher tried to explain about reactants and products.
Next was History, and it was insanely boring. We had to read about the things dead people did. Oh look, this guy conquered the Roman Empire. Well, this guy told them all that the world was round. These people got burned because these other people thought they were witches. These people threw tea in the water because they didn't like paying taxes. It was all extremely boring, and I knew nothing about any of it. The teacher gave me a pre-test, just to see where I was at. I got most of the questions wrong, but he just smiled at me. "Well, we have a lot of room for improvement, then," was his only response. He was nice, but I still thought his class was terrible.
The worst, though, was probably math class. The teacher went on and on about numbers that were apparently not even real. I didn't understand any of it, and the notes we were taking looked like they had come right out of the ancient Greece section of my history book. At least that book had battles and stuff. Lydia was in my class, though. She didn't pay much attention either, just took the notes, and worked quietly through the textbook. I tried to stay focused, but it was like the teacher was speaking another language entirely. Eventually, I went cross-eyed, trying to figure all the numbers out, and I just resorted to copying the notes. Maybe Lydia could explain what it all meant later.
Then, of course, was the class that was actually in another language. Beginning Spanish. The teacher there was very cheerful, but I understood nothing she said. She gave me yet another textbook and patted me on the arm. "Buena suerte," she said, smiling. That was supposed to mean something, but I didn't know what. I tried to smile, but it didn't work, and I left that classroom wondering if maybe skipping school would be worth facing Derek's wrath.
I decided the risk was worth it and was headed towards the main doors when suddenly I was flanked by Scott and Stiles. Scott was on my left and Stiles on my right. Stiles flung an arm over my shoulder, trapping me, and together they steered me away from the door and towards the one place I had been avoiding so far. The cafeteria.
It was noisy beyond compare, and there were so many different smells that it was overwhelming. Stiles slid in a seat at one of the tables, and Lydia sat beside him. Scott dumped his backpack on the table, and another girl came and sat on my other side. She offered me a nice smile. "I'm Kira," she said. "You probably have my dad as your history teacher." I remembered what Stiles said about being too serious all the time, and I practiced smiling again. It must have worked, because Kira widened her smile for a second before turning to talk to Lydia. As soon as she turned away, I dropped my smile and buried my head in my arms.
Stiles gripped my shoulder tightly, squeezing it with his usual overly-energetic excitement. "So, how was the first half of your day?" I lifted my head a little and looked at him. He must have picked up on the cold panic that made my stomach turn, because he grinned. "That good, huh?" I looked down at his hand, still on my shoulder. I didn't like being touched, yet everyone here seemed to do it a lot. Stiles pulled his hand away quickly, looking a little wary.
Then he shrugged, seemingly not offended. "Hey, don't worry about it, man. If you ever need help, Lydia and I can explain things for you. Or there are tutors you can get. School isn't that bad, trust me. What classes do you have after lunch?"
His words came exploding out of him, non-stop. I don't think he even took a breath. He tapped his fingers against the table, and I began to wonder if he had problems paying attention for long periods of time. Then I remembered he'd asked me a question.
I pulled my schedule out of my pocket. I had looked at it a million times already, obsessing over getting to the right classroom at the right time. I didn't want to be the one person who had no idea where he was going. That was not blending in. "Uh," I cleared my throat. I hadn't done much talking today, which is how I liked it anyway. "Uh, I have, um, eco-nomy." I stumbled over the word, not knowing how it was pronounced. My ears turned red, but Stiles just nodded along thoughtfully.
"Economy," he said absently, not like he was correcting me. More like he was confirming it.
"Yeah, that, and I have physical education." I didn't know what that meant, but I hoped it meant doing something other than sitting.
"Oh, P.E. Yeah, you'll like that one. Coach is making us run today." He pulled a wry face, but I sat up straighter. Run. I could run. Stiles' eyes snapped back around, settling on me quickly. "But you have to blend in, remember? Scott's an alpha, but even he had a hard time keeping up with you. You can't be too good. When you finish, make sure you can at least see the other runners behind you."
I nodded. Blending in. Okay. I could do that.
The others all chatted as they ate. I just sat quietly because I wasn't hungry, and it that was probably a good thing, since most of the cafeteria food smelled repulsive. When the time came to leave, Scott and Stiles walked with me to the next class.
Economy felt like someone was pulling my head open and stuffing mush inside. I got that the general gist was money and how people spent it, but beyond that, my brain refused to operate. Everyone called the teacher "Coach," and he paced around the classroom. Sometimes he came and stood by my desk, as if his proximity would help him force-feed me knowledge. I made fists under the desk, envisioning many different scenarios where I could beat the crap out of someone or something.
I might have followed through, but that wouldn't have been blending in, and I got the sense that physical confrontation was highly frowned upon at school. So I made do by making fists and slowly releasing them, just like Ms. Morrell had taught me.
The only consolation during Economy was that it ended, and I couldn't have been happier to leave the classroom and head to physical education. Stiles showed me the locker room where everyone changed, and I slipped into some shorts, following everyone else as they dragged themselves outside. Coach met us out by a wide, winding dirt path, holding a clipboard and a whistle.
"Three times around the loop. You know the drill," he called. There was a collective groan, and the herd shambled forward as the whistle blew. Kira was in this class, and unlike so many of the others, she took off at a brisk pace. I caught up to her, running even with her since I didn't know where I was going. She gave me a small grin, and we headed down the path.
I ran with her for the entire loop. We passed Coach, and he glanced at a timer held in his hand before marking something on the clipboard.
I inhaled deeply, taking in the heavy scents of freshly cut grass and impending rain. My footsteps ate through the distance, and my muscles were warm, ready for more. I was in the zone. I didn't even notice when I sped up, but a minute later, I became aware of Kira struggling to keep up.
I didn't care, though, and I took off, leaving her behind. Scents filled my nose as I ran, and the breath slid easily in and out of my chest. I loved the feeling of being free. Man, I loved running.
When I passed Coach again, he looked at his timer then did a double take. I kept running, feeling more at ease than I had the entire day. It wasn't until Coach came back into view for a third time that I remembered Stiles warning about blending in. Skidding to a stop, I milled around uselessly, waiting for the other runners. I stretched a little, fighting the urge to get moving again.
A minute passed, and then another. Finally after what seemed like ages, Kira came into view, arms and legs pistoning, breathing hard. I waited for her to get closer then fell in beside her again. We ran past Coach at the same time before slowing to a walk. Kira braced her arms on her sides, shaking her head at me, and I tried to look as innocent as possible.
"Tate," Coach bellowed. "Get over here." My eyes widened, and Kira reached over, patting me on the arm. I approached Coach with caution, not sure what he wanted. He studied me, and I tried to make it look like I had actually worked hard to run as fast as I had. Finally Coach shook his head. "You may not look like much, but boy can you move. Have you thought about trying out for cross country?"
I didn't know what that was, and he must have taken my blank look as a negative. "Come talk to me after class," he asserted. I nodded and escaped back to Kira. She walked with me to the entrance of the guys' locker room.
"Good job today," she said. "I saw how frustrated you were a couple times, and you didn't even hit anyone." I stared at her for a second, wondering where she'd got the impression that I needed to hit things when I felt like things were spinning out of control around me. Stiles, probably. Never mind that it was true.
Not having a response, I just shrugged. She turned and jogged off, and I went to go change again. Coach wasn't inside when I finished, and I figured it would be a while considering how slowly my classmates had been dragging at the start of the run. So I left, disregarding his instructions to come talk to him after class.
Most of the people weren't out of class yet, so the school was mostly empty as I walked to the front door. I blew out of them without a second thought, utterly content to leave this place behind and never come back.
I drew up short upon reaching the parking lot, realizing I didn't know how I was getting home. Then I snorted, laughing at my sudden dependency on others. People had been telling me what to do all day, so much so that it had drained me of all independent thought. Screw them—I could just as easily walk home.
Slinging my backpack over my shoulders, I picked the general direction that Derek's loft was in and started walking. It was nice. No classes, no teachers, no loud high schoolers. It was just me, walking quietly by myself. The near-silence—compared to the noise level of the high school—was bliss, and I reveled in it, not minding that I had a long walk ahead of myself.
A little while later, something started ringing in my backpack, and I pulled it off, startled by the sudden noise. After digging around the bottom of the bag, I found the source of the racket. It was a cell phone, but much fancier than I had ever seen. Incoming Call, the screen informed me. A picture of Stiles stared back at me, and I followed the directions, swiping to accept the call.
"AJ, where'd you go, dude? I was going to give you a ride home," Stiles yelled above the loud buzz of the background noise.
I held the phone against my ear, not quite sure if I was doing it right. "I'm walking," I told him. "I don't need a ride." Then I pulled the phone away and pushed the "end call" button, figuring that was all he really needed to know.
He didn't call again, so I was probably right, and I finished my walk in peace.
Upon reaching the loft, I climbed the stairs and opened the big metal door. Derek wasn't home, and I dumped my backpack by the couch and went to go change into shorts. Running today had triggered something in me. Something I'd been missing since the Eichen House. They hadn't let us run. And I needed to run. Needed it like I needed breathing.
I was just headed out again when I caught a weird scent. It wasn't new, I'd smelled traces of it in the loft before, but it was particularly strong today.
"So, what, you're taking in strays again?" a low, smooth voice called from up above. There were footsteps, and my eyes slid to the winding metal staircase on the left. A man walked down them slowly, and he came to an abrupt stop when he saw me. "You're not Derek," he said with a slow smile. I didn't like that smile. It made something inside me want to shrink away in unease. And his eyes were calculating, like he was measuring me. It made me…wary.
"AJ," I offered, saying my name just to break the heavy silence.
If that was news to him, he didn't show it, just tipped his head to the side and studied me. "Beautiful eyes," he said after a weird pause. "Did you get them from your father?"
I was confused for a second. What kind of question was that? Why was he asking about my eyes? "Mother," I said warily, feeling like this conversation was somehow way off.
"Interesting," he said, trailing off as he took a step towards me. I took a step back, and for some reason I don't think he liked that. His eyes narrowed, but then he relaxed. "I'm looking for my nephew, Derek."
"What do you want, Peter?" Derek asked, sliding the door open. Good, he was home. Let him deal with Peter.
Derek didn't look happy as I backed away and practically fled out the door, but then again, I think that was his face's default setting. Besides, he had to deal with Peter. He didn't have time to be deal with me now.
As I pounded down the stairs happily, I thought about what had just happened. It had been weird, and there was something that made me uneasy around Peter. I didn't know what, but it was definitely there. I'd heard Stiles mention him once, and he'd had nothing good to say of the man.
But it didn't matter. Because I was going running now, and the best thing about running was that it cleared my mind like nothing else. And after all the random information I'd had thrown at me today, I wanted to just make it go away.
Reaching the last step on the stairs, I hopped down onto the pavement. Then taking one last glance back towards the loft, I took a deep breath and started running.
