A.N.: For anyone who's interested, I made a board on Pinterest for this story; just type in 'Teen Wolf Olive' and you should find it! I have a very solid image of how Olive's cabin is decorated, and the idea of Olive still having the dollhouse her father made for her got me thinking of Petit-Plat, the food-miniaturist, and thus, Olive's hobby was created. If you've ever seen Stick It, Haley is the level at which Olive competes in gymnastics.
I also don't think they wrote Allison's mother's character right; if Mr Argent is the strict, hard-ass parent, I think Mrs Argent should have been warmer, softer, more lenient, perhaps the one who understood that Romeo and Juliet killed themselves because their parents wouldn't let them see each other. So that's how I'm going to write her. I'm not sure yet whether I'm going to follow canon and have Derek bite her when she's, you know, trying to slaughter Scott for Allison not keeping her legs closed. Maybe I'll have Peter bite her in the series one finale?
Due to my own disgust for how whiny and pathetic Allison was in 'Night School' and just generally being the bane of every Suffragette in existence, I've written Olive into a pretty important twist on the canon version, to give Allison the verbal slap she really needs! And give a hint at Olive's family history.
Oh, also, I'm not sure whether I want this story to take place in 2011 or 2012, as in, the 2012-2013 school-year, so I can put in a few movies the kids can go and see, because I've just seen the trailer for Expendables 2, and it looks AWESOME!
The Judgement of Actaeon
03
If she related to any fictional character, it was the Doctor. Watching a clip of Doctor Who on her iPod, waiting for Isaac, she watched the beautiful Helen McRory jump to her death, 'remember us…dream of us…' The Doctor bore the weight of his own annihilated species on his conscience; the very, very last of his kind. Very old, and very kind, and the very last of his kind…
That episode always made her heartsick. The Doctor, always trying to save everybody, without violence, just…his two hearts encompassing the universe.
A slim shadow wavered in the periphery, and Olive wiped her eyes, giving a watery smile as she glanced up.
"Are you alright?" Isaac asked softly, his blue eyes gentle and concerned as he took in her features. Olive smiled, heaving a sigh. Indicating her iPod, she said softly, "Sad episode."
"What were you watching?" Isaac asked, glancing at her iPod, then back to her face.
"Doctor Who," Olive smiled unabashedly; she wasn't embarrassed about liking Doctor Who, or enjoying nature programmes or watching cooking shows.
"I thought Doctor Who was about aliens," Isaac said, frowning subtly. Olive smiled.
"It is," she admitted. Indicating her iPod again, she said, "Fish from space masquerading as a vampire tries to repopulate her race after her entire planet is lost." Isaac raised his eyebrows.
"Right…" he said, and then laughed softly. He had an incredible smile, but it was quick to disappear. Because his lip was split. He started, as if his smile had caused him physical pain, tugging at the split skin, and he licked his lip, wincing, and glanced at Olive.
Clearing her throat softly, she glanced at her iPod before carefully wrapping her earphones around it and tucking it into the front-pocket of her backpack. "So…chemistry. I didn't know where you wanted to work."
"Um, I don't really mind," Isaac said softly. Olive gazed up at him, relishing how tall he was, and nodded.
"How about the bleachers?" she suggested. "Out on the football field?" Silent, Isaac strode beside her out to the football-field, which was quiet, abandoned; tugging their chemistry textbooks and notebooks out, they found their notes they had written during their experiment, opening the textbook up to the appropriate pages, and Olive tugged her laptop out of its protective case. "I thought we might as well get it typed up now, I could print it during my free-period and give it to Harris before the end of the day."
"Do you have credit on your library-card?" Isaac asked, glancing at her.
"I knew I'd forgotten to do something!" Olive grimaced, shaking her head and sighing heavily, her shoulders slumping. "This is why my mother always had me put twenty dollars on my student card for lunch emergencies." She fell into a quiet, depressed mood, eyes unseeing as she gazed at the springy terracotta-red track encircling the Astro-turf football field.
"We can…" Isaac cleared his throat softly. "We can use my card, there should be a few cents left on it for printing." Olive gave him a sad smile, and brought out her packed lunch, never one to skip out on meals, and Isaac smiled shyly as he tugged a brown-bag lunch out of his backpack.
"Okay, so…" Olive sighed, lugging her textbook into her lap, laying her notebook atop it. "We should probably get this report out of the way…" Harris didn't want a very long report; as sophomores in Intermediate Chemistry, the bar wasn't set very high for the quality of their written assignments, but in the last year, her academic success had pushed her to want to go just the little extra mile on her assignments, because she now knew she could do it.
"I wish I'd taken Chemistry at my last school now," Olive sighed, typing quickly as she and Isaac went through notes and the textbook.
"Did you take Biology?" Isaac asked, as he sipped his water. Olive nodded.
"Yeah, twice," she sighed softly. Isaac gave her a perplexed look; setting her Juicy Juice box down on the bench, Olive sighed. "I, um… I had to repeat freshman-year." Isaac was quiet for a moment, before giving her a thoughtful, shy look.
"Something happened with your family," he guessed succinctly, and Olive glanced at him. Had he remembered what she'd said yesterday, about it being 'just her' now? Without answering properly, she nodded.
"It wasn't a total waste," she said thoughtfully, glancing out over the field.
"No?"
"By the time my second freshman-year came around, I was the top student in my Geometry class," Olive said, beaming at Isaac. "That doesn't say much for the rest of the kids in my class, but it was a real confidence-boost for me." Isaac chuckled.
"You weren't so good at math?" Isaac smiled understandingly.
"I was awful," Olive chuckled softly.
"You're in Algebra 2 this year, aren't you?" Isaac asked, glancing at her. "On your schedule yesterday, it said you were…"
"I am," Olive confirmed. Isaac nodded, clearing his throat shyly.
"Um… Do you think…maybe you could tutor me?" he asked her uncertainly, glancing at her shyly.
"Well… I'm no expert," Olive said, not wanting him to get the wrong impression; she had worked hard last year. "I mean, my first year, I really struggled. But last year, being the top in my class…it really boosted my confidence, academically; it got me wanting to actually put a lot more effort into studying… Do you need help already?"
"I'd…" Isaac cleared his throat, eyes gentle but…wary, almost afraid. The same way he'd looked before receiving his D-graded essay yesterday from Harris. "I'd just…rather not wait 'til I've fallen behind…to ask for help." Olive nodded, pushing her straw out of her mouth with her tongue, and licked her lips.
"You don't like to get bad grades?" Olive guessed. She knew athletes had to maintain a certain grade-point average to remain on the team, and that same GPA affected how affordable or outrageous car-insurance would be to each individual kid who had a licence.
"No, I…can't get bad grades," Isaac said, blinking several times before licking his lips, casting a wary glance at her; she wondered whether his previous black eyes and current split lip had anything to do with him not wanting to get bad grades. Olive sighed softly, offering Isaac the little plastic Easter-egg she had put a tiny handful of Jelly Belly Beans in for a lunchtime treat.
"If you want…we can study together, sometimes," she said shyly. There were things in her life that Olive was good at, confident at: gymnastics; cooking; her hobbies. Repeating a grade had actually turned out to be incredibly beneficial to her self-confidence where academics were concerned. But there were things she was still very much in the learning process with; talking to cute boys.
Specifically, talking to incredibly pretty-eyed, soulful boys like Isaac Lahey. In her previous schools, Olive had always been relatively outgoing, confident in her social-skills if not a complete social-butterfly; she had always had a good circle of devoted friends, and been invited to parties and on dates. In the last year, she had started to really date boys, to learn how they ticked, what worked, what they liked, and what she liked them doing for her. But every boy she had gone out on a date with had been…confident. She would have said 'like Jackson', except none of the guys she had ever dated were the world's biggest narcissists. The boys she had gone out on dates with were…like openly-gay Danny; self-confident, with a good head on their shoulders, and kind.
Isaac seemed sweet—very sweet—but he was the most confidence-deprived person she had ever met.
He glanced at her, shy and quiet, and nodded slightly. "What about Stiles and Scott?"
Olive let out a soft laugh. "Stiles has usually had too much Adderall to do much of the sitting-still part required for studying." Isaac gave her a very sweet smile, eyes twinkling. "I'd probably go crazy trying to study with him around…"
"So how did you and Stiles become friends?" Isaac asked softly. "I mean…you already seem close, and you only just moved here."
"Well…when I got to Beacon Hills, you know, I thought, teenage girl, living by herself in a cabin in the woods… I thought someone should know I'd moved out there, at least," Olive smiled. "So I asked the Sheriff if he could send someone to the cabin if I miss more than three days of school together without an explanation for my absence."
"He didn't ask why you moved in by yourself?" Isaac asked curiously. Olive shook her head; the only person she'd told, the Sheriff was understanding of her situation.
"No, but he figured out I'd be a sophomore like his son," Olive smiled warmly, glancing at Isaac. "So he introduced me to Stiles, so I'd have someone to talk to on my first day of school. And it turns out we became really good friends."
"Just like that?" Isaac said softly, looking slightly surprised.
"That's how it works, isn't it?" Olive smiled at him. "All friendships, all relationships, start with someone saying hello. At least, in my experience." Isaac smiled, and it was a sad smile; he nodded and sipped his water. "Anyway, like you said, the Sheriff wasn't totally okay with me living by myself; once a week I go over to the Stilinski house for dinner."
"That's real nice of them," Isaac said softly. "To make you feel welcome."
"Yeah," Olive smiled warmly. She did really like Stiles and his stern but warm-hearted dad. The two of them played off each other's remarkably similar sense of humour, and their relationship was a symbiotic one, Stiles helping the Sheriff solve cases at work, the Sheriff clipping Stiles around the ear for sneaking glances at confidential police files. "Really, I think the Sheriff likes having me over because I always bring a full-fat dessert." Isaac laughed. "And I sneak him curly-fries whenever Stiles isn't looking, so…"
"Yeah, Stiles is okay," Isaac said softly, gazing out over the field. "I mean, he's hyperactive, and everyone knows he's a bit…"
"Eccentric?"
"Yeah," Isaac chuckled, casting her a smile that took her breath away. "But he's a good guy."
"He is," Olive agreed. "Have you always lived in Beacon Hills?"
"Me? Yeah," Isaac said, sighing softly. Olive nodded.
"I guess it must be kind of nice that you go to school with kids you've known all your life," she said softly, thoughtful.
"I guess," Isaac said softly, clearing his throat as he glanced at her. "Except when people forget you're not the same ten-year-old kid who liked comic-books."
"You liked comic-books?" Olive smiled.
"Yeah, I'm…a comic-book nerd," Isaac said quietly, clearing his throat and blushing subtly as he glanced at his notebook.
"I wouldn't worry about that; Seth Cohen made comic-book nerds extremely sexy," Olive said, and Isaac gave her one of his incredibly sweet smiles.
"What did you like when you were ten?" he asked.
"I liked dollhouses and Harry Potter and baseball-cards," Olive said thoughtfully, sipping the last of her Juicy Juice box.
"You like baseball?"
"I love baseball," Olive smiled. "It's my favourite sport."
"Not gymnastics?"
"Gymnastics is elitist; I like that baseball…is for everyone," she said thoughtfully. "You can always enjoy baseball, no matter how old or inflexible you are." Isaac laughed.
"Sorry, I just got this image in my head of the NBA teams getting a new leotard uniform," he laughed softly, and Olive giggled, grinning. "So thank you for that."
"That would make the game a lot more interesting to watch," she smirked, and Isaac grinned; it was a deliciously cheeky grin.
"So, you're on the gymnastics team here?" Isaac prompted.
"I was considering not joining," Olive admitted, sighing softly. "I kind of…wanted a change of pace. But gymnastics has always been the one constant in my life, no matter what else was happening. And I look good in the Cyclone-red leotard, so…"
"I thought the same thing when I tried out for the Lacrosse team," Isaac smiled playfully, and Olive chuckled, smiling.
"You know, with you and Stiles and Scott all on the team," she said thoughtfully, "I might actually have to come and see one of these lacrosse games."
"I hope you don't expect Coach to put me or Stiles out on the field," Isaac said quietly, glancing at Olive, and she smiled, knowing there was a reason Stiles kept the bench warm. He was enthusiastic, but not the best player; and while it was always good to have someone like that on the team, it didn't necessarily mean it was good to put him on the field.
"Why is it Lacrosse in Beacon Hills, anyway?" Olive asked curiously. "What's wrong with football?"
"Our football-teams suck," Isaac said, and Olive chuckled.
"It seems a waste to have this stadium," Olive said thoughtfully. "I mean, why doesn't the Lacrosse team use it for their games?"
"I don't know," Isaac shrugged slightly. "But we have that huge pool, and the swim-team hasn't won State since my brother was… Since my brother was on the team."
The way his voice had faltered caught Olive's attention, and she glanced at Isaac, noticing his features had softened, his eyes darkened with emotion and a hint of shine, as if he'd just upset himself. "You have a brother?" she prompted softly.
"Uh… I…had a brother," Isaac said, swallowing, and he glanced at her, eyes troubled and upset. "He, uh… He went out to Iraq, so…" And he had been killed in combat; Isaac didn't have to say it for Olive to understand.
She felt a sudden, unbreakable connection to Isaac Lahey in that moment. He had lost his sibling to a probably-violent death, too.
Swallowing, licking her lips, Olive reached into the front-pocket of her backpack for her wallet, from which she pulled a small, colourful photograph of a stunning sunset in Monument Valley, the last family-vacation she had had. A stranger had taken the picture, zooming into the four faces of the small, close-knit family. Two girls hugged each other, grinning from ear to ear, one so darkly tanned like chestnuts that of the two sisters, she looked to be the one with Afro-Fijian roots, when actually it was the younger girl, with amazingly out-of-control hair, who had that ethnic descent; and the two adults in the picture—one gently tanned with sparkling eyes and long, sugary-blonde hair; the other, black as the richest cocoa, handsome to the extreme and tall, muscled—had their arms around each other, beaming.
"That's Ruby," she said softly, pointing to the younger girl, something hitting her in the chest, right where her heart was. It was like a hundred running-cramps had hit her at once, and she kneaded the heel of her palm against her heart, wincing. She sighed softly, as Isaac took the small photo. "She's gone, too." Isaac glanced at her, eyes wide. She gave him a very sad smile. "Having someone say they're sorry just isn't enough, is it."
"No," Isaac said, barely louder than a breath. He cleared his throat softly. "Your family looked happy."
"We were," Olive beamed, clasping her hands and leaning her head against them, elbows against her knees.
"This is your stepfather?" Isaac asked, pointing a slender finger at the man in the photograph.
"Yep. That's Moses," Olive smiled warmly. "I, uh… I never actually knew my natural father. Mo was the only daddy I ever had, so…"
"He's handsome," Isaac observed, and Olive nodded, chuckling.
"I had a friend who used to tease me that it was a good thing Mo wasn't my biological father, because when I got old enough I could steal Moses away from my mother and marry him myself," she said, and Isaac flashed that cheeky smile. "Chantal's gonna have quite a life ahead of her."
"This is your mother," Isaac said, nodding, as he gazed at the beautiful blonde woman in the photo.
"That's my mommy," Olive said softly, her heart crumpling.
"She's beautiful… She looks familiar," Isaac said, and Olive glanced at him.
"Well, her picture's in the trophy-case in the lobby," she said; her first day at Beacon Hills High, she'd had to wait outside the office, and she'd spent the time waiting looking in the trophy cabinet. She'd been amazed at how much family-history she'd found stored in there, more than she'd ever learned about her parents during their high-school days than in her entire life.
"She went to Beacon Hills?" Isaac said, eyebrows raised, surprised.
"She and my father both did; my father's family was actually in Beacon Hills for like a hundred and fifty-odd years," Olive said; her mother had always told her that, that was why they always came back to Beacon Hills at least once a year. The Royea family and the Hales had been friends for generations.
"What was his name?" Isaac asked.
"Oliver Royea."
"Royea…as in Royea Lumber?"
"Royea Lumber, Royea Beef, Royea Construction," Olive sighed, glancing at Isaac. "My grandfather sold the company after my father died. But my father, Oliver, he was captain of the football-team, shooting-guard for the basketball-team, pitcher on the All-State baseball team, and voted Most Handsome in his senior yearbook," Olive beamed proudly, and Isaac smiled. "And my motherwas captain of the cheerleading squad and on the gymnastics team, and she was student-body president and she went to her junior and senior formals with my dad."
"They were high-school sweethearts," Isaac said, with a small, very sweet smile. Olive nodded, beaming.
"They met at sixteen, got married at twenty-one, and I was born when my mother was twenty-four," she said softly, smiling.
"You have your mother's eyebrows," Isaac said, glancing at her.
"Oh, that's not a good thing. She had a bit of a Brooke Shields phase," Olive chuckled, and Isaac grinned.
"Now, there is nothing wrong with that," he said quietly, smiling.
"Blue Lagoon fan?" Olive teased.
"A half-naked Brooke Shields on a tropical-island? You know, I can't think of anything wrong with that picture," Isaac smirked playfully.
"Well, the following year she made Endless Love, which made me want to slit my wrists, so…" Isaac laughed.
"I'm getting the impression you don't like chick-flicks," Isaac said, with the first flash of teasing confidence.
"Horror-movies are far more realistic," Olive said, with a chuckle, and Isaac laughed. "I don't want you to think I'm not a girly-girl who doesn't love romance. Because I am, and I do like love-stories; I just prefer to read them. So I don't have to pay to watch Miley Cyrus or Zac Efron at the movie-theatre." Isaac nodded as she grimaced. "What about you, what kind of movies do you like?"
"Action," Isaac nodded, glancing at her. "Or comedy. The Marx brothers."
"Classic," Olive smiled; for some reason, Ruby, who had always been into of-the-moment trends, had laughed until she cried, watching Marx Brothers movies.
"What's your favourite movie?"
"It depends on my mood," Olive admitted, "and I have a lot of them!" Isaac laughed softly. "If I had to name a handful, not including the horror genre…The Lord of the Rings series, A Star is Born, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Kingdom of Heaven, The Life of Brian and…Matilda and Willy Wonka."
"Is that with Gene Hackman?"
"Gene Wilder," Olive corrected, smiling.
"I've never actually seen it," Isaac said, clearing his throat softly, and Olive stared.
"You've never seen Willy Wonka?"
"Nope," Isaac smiled subtly. "My family were always National Lampoon, Duck Soup or Uncle Buck fans on movie-night."
"John Candy!" Olive beamed. "'You should've seen the toast, I couldn't even fit it through the door'! I love Uncle Buck. Actually, I can remember always watching it whenever I came to stay with my grandfather here. He laughed so hard he'd cry. When the bowling-ball lands on his head!" Isaac smiled.
"My favourite scene is where he crashes the party," he chuckled, giving that sweet smile again, and Olive laughed.
"The amateur dentist scene," she smiled, and they both laughed. Softly, she said, "I can't believe you've never seen Willy Wonka."
"No, but I can repeat Marx brothers movies line for line," Isaac said, smiling.
"Duck Soup was my sister's favourite," Olive said, smiling sadly. "If it was my stepdad's choice on movie-night, it was always Life of Brian."
"I do like Life of Brian," Isaac nodded, smiling subtly.
"I watched it a lot over the last two years," Olive said, taking her photograph back, and putting it back in her wallet after looking at it carefully for a second. "Eric Idle really spoke to me. 'Always look on the bright side of life'…" Isaac pulled a thoughtful, if somewhat ironic expression, which Olive chose not to comment on, because he cleared his throat and shot her a small smile. She cleared her throat softly, turning back to her laptop.
"So, I think we're nearly done," she said, glancing at the Word document before glancing at Isaac with a smile.
"That wasn't as painful as I was expecting," Isaac said, peering at the screen.
"I think we just have to put in a conclusion, and our names, and we can print it off," Olive said, smiling; she hated doing homework at, well, home. If she could get it done between school-hours, it was a bonus that meant she could go for a long run or spend a little extra time in the gymnastics gym, or make something really nice for herself for dinner.
"We could be done before lunch is over," Isaac said, with one of his quiet, subtle smiles.
They did finish before the end of lunch, even despite chatting easily about the music on Olive's music library, surprising Isaac with her love of old-school mo-town, Memphis blues and 1960s rock and punk, the music Isaac liked and who, of every musician alive or dead they'd rather have play at their birthday. Olive sent the document to Isaac's school email, which he accessed in the library to print off the report; Olive paid the librarian a dollar for a portfolio file to keep the report neat and clean in, and before heading off to their classes, Isaac and Olive found Mr Harris getting ready for his first after-lunch class, and handed in their report.
"Guess I'll…see you…" Isaac said, clearing his throat softly, and Olive smiled.
"Yeah," Olive smiled. Before the bell rang, slender Isaac had smiled sweetly and disappeared to another corridor for his own class, while Olive made her way to Classics.
She sat alternately doodling, paying attention and taking notes, and daydreaming about Isaac Lahey's sweet smile all the way through her Classical Civilisation class. And her AP Latin class, and gymnastics practice, and she wondered what Isaac liked to eat as she prepared her dinner, and fell asleep, after doing her homework and working on some of her miniatures, thinking about Isaac's incredibly pretty lips.
It was with an enormous groan that everyone received the news from Coach Finstock that the class—which was made up of the JV football-players, the Lacrosse team and a handful of cheerleaders, Lydia Martin, the pale other new girl Allison, and Olive—were to run a mile, as they had to with every different sport they covered throughout the year. They all filed out to the football-field, grumbling, and when Isaac caught her eye, standing in roll-call order on the field, hands in the hem of his t-shirt, tall and skinny, Olive smiled back, blushing a little.
"Okay, what's going on there?" Stiles asked, giving her an appraising look; Olive blinked, blushing, and glanced away. Stiles glanced from Olive to Isaac and back, his eyes glowing, a grin toying at his lips. "Oh!"
"What?" Olive blushed. Stiles shrugged, smirking.
"I just… Well, I was wondering what your type was," he said, smirking again. "Guess tall and pretty-eyed boys are it. I mean, who can say 'no' to a guy who turns up for gym-class in combat-boots? Very wrong-side-of-the-tracks Ponyboy Curtis." Olive gave Stiles a look, smiling, and focused on Coach Finstock as he gave the order for volunteers to lead warm-ups.
"Jackson! Danny! Greenberg! I don't care if you don't wanna, get up off your ass and start leading warm-ups, you've got parent-teacher conferences comin' up, don't give me a reason to badmouth you in front of your own flesh and blood—Royea, up here as well, get the boys motivated," Coach called, and Olive sighed, gently slapping palms with Stiles as she wandered past him, up to the front of the roll-call.
Danny gave her a soft smile as she took her place beside him. She didn't tend to spend a lot of time socialising with most everybody at Beacon Hills High; but Danny was quite sweet, and Olive couldn't fathom how he was best-friends with the world's most egocentric tool, but he was.
"Hey, so I heard the gymnastics team has a meet coming up," Danny said, as they did push-ups, and Olive glanced at him.
"Uh, yeah…two weeks' time," she said, a little bemused.
"I heard you were incredible at the first meet," Danny said; Olive glanced at him.
"You did?" Most kids at Beacon Hills High didn't even know they had a gymnastics team.
"My first boyfriend's on the team," Danny said, smiling softly. "We're still really good friends, so I try and go to his competitions."
"Who?" Olive asked curiously; the boys on the team were the most lethally strong boys in the entire school; they made every other athlete pale in comparison. But they trained on the other half of the gym, with their specialist equipment, the rings and pommel-horse.
"Gabe," Danny smiled, and Olive beamed.
"Ah," she said softly. "He, um… He thinks I should embrace my flexibility to score myself some dates." Danny laughed. "He was absolutely amazing on the still-rings. Great starting-value, too."
"I missed the first meet," Danny said, grimacing as he did another push-up. "But I'm planning to come to the next one. Might get to see you in action." Olive smiled.
"You're gonna waste your time watching gymnastics?" Jackson scoffed.
"Gymnastics is hard-core," Danny countered gently.
"Really," Jackson sniffed.
"Don't pretend you haven't noticed Olive's legs," Danny said to Jackson, who gave him a withering look; not particularly as flattered as Jackson probably thought she should be that he'd noticed her muscle-tone, Olive switched to sit-ups. "After we finish running, maybe Olive can show you a thing or two," Danny suggested coolly. Outside of the gym, she didn't like to show off her talent with gymnastics; she had been trained, hard, and from a young age, by incredibly talented coaches. Her mother had had the money to pay for the best coaching, and Olive loved the sport, so it was a labour of love, not a chore, to practice. But unlike the cheerleaders who showed off their splits in front of the whole male-dominated P.E. class, and the guys who raced to complete a six-minute mile, she didn't like drawing attention to her gymnastics.
If Olive had a fault—and she had many; it was just that there were so few people close to her to could notice and point them out—it was of not making a big deal out of herself, preening her plumage and showing off every once in a while. In the previous two years, she'd had so many people staring at her, for a completely different reason, that eyes on her just felt…like being stared at would always be connected with that…not her gymnastics, or a pretty dress, or liquid eyeliner she'd managed to get perfectly matched, or a great grade on a killer test or sticking a Produnova perfectly on vault.
That's why she hadn't told anybody about her family. Not Stiles, not anybody. Ms Morrell, her guidance-counsellor knew, and she was sure Stiles' dad knew, but out of respect for her privacy, the Sheriff hadn't said anything to his son. What had happened to her family wasn't exactly something she wanted to be known for. So she kept to herself, delighting in her weird new hyperactive friend Stiles and stroppy but big-hearted Scott; her cabin; the craft store downtown near the bookstore where she was already trusted enough to close up in the evenings and had the combination to the safe; the enormous mall and the IMAX movie-theatre.
After warm-ups were finished, they had to line up on the track; everybody jostling, the more aggressive boys trying to get and keep their place right on the starting-line so nobody could get in front of them, Olive picked her spot and stretched carefully. Previously a girly-girl who loved vintage clothes, dollhouses and gymnastics, inside, Olive was still that girl, but she had also always been an active girl who had thrilled in tumbling and running, too.
Most days, Olive went through her classes and P.E. without dramatic incident; she smiled at people who made eye-contact, was polite to teachers and always handed her homework in on time: she ate lunch with Stiles and Scott; didn't disrupt her classes; took notes and was never late to gymnastics practice. She didn't give Coach Finstock some lame excuse about forgetting to wash her gym-kit so she could get out of P.E. for the day simply because she didn't want to play basketball. Before chatting with Isaac, she hadn't noticed any of the boys at Beacon Hills High, mostly because she didn't particularly want to; she had done dating, and been the dating-girl, and part of the reason she didn't want to be that girl anymore was because that part of her life had been a huge mess, and she didn't want to slip back into old, bad routines.
But boy was she beginning to notice Isaac Lahey! Tall and skinny, the more she paid attention to him, the more she noticed nobody else seemed to; he was quiet and polite, well-spoken, and had a breathtaking smile Olive rarely got to see. He was shy and sweet and, in short, completely and utterly adorable.
She found herself daydreaming about him, smiling whenever he caught her eye… They didn't exactly have in-depth conversations, but every time they met at their lockers, they now said hello, and Olive noticed more and more when Isaac turned up at school with a fresh bruise.
Consistently, he blamed lacrosse practice for his injuries; every time Olive heard him say that, she believed him less and less.
But each time she saw him, Olive would get that feeling in her stomach, a weightlessness and a sheer thrill of undiluted happiness, she couldn't breathe properly, she found herself blushing and laughing more whenever they paused to talk to each other. She found herself going out of the way to talk to Isaac during class, especially P.E., where he became their fourth if she, Stiles and Scott were forced to play teams for the last days of their basketball unit.
It had only been a few days since Derek's poisoning, and Olive hadn't heard much from him; he was trying to track the Alpha's movements. But even if Olive had wanted to, there was no getting rid of Stiles.
She liked to run; and was a fast runner, so the only person who beat her was Scott, and only because Allison had teased him for being a slow runner a few days ago. Olive had to wait for Stiles to finish, and spent the few minutes just enjoying having the leisure to watch Isaac run. Panting, clutching a cramp in his side, Stiles staggered over the finishing-line and collapsed on the Astro-turf beside Olive as she sat warming-down.
"Hey…" Stiles panted, sprawled on his back on the grass. "Friday's parent-teacher conferences. Are we still on for a movie-night while my dad's at the school?"
"Absolutely," Olive said, smiling despite the sinking feeling in her stomach. The constant reminders about the parent-teacher conference night felt like a knife to the gut every time she heard them; because she had no parent to come and chat with her teachers, to tell her mom and dad how good of a student she was, whether she was exceptionally well-behaved, was kind to her fellow students… Last year she'd holed up in her room for a week when parent-teacher conferences had come around, too upset that she didn't have her parents… This year, she was determined not to let it get to her. She couldn't fall to pieces every time she was reminded that she was alone.
Not technically alone: Understanding that Olive felt miserable about the approaching parent-teacher conferences, having lost his own mother as well, Stiles had suggested they have a movie-marathon to keep her mind off the conferences, and give Stiles a witness in the house when his gun-wielding father got home from talking to his teachers.
"How about a triple-feature?" Stiles suggested eagerly, grinning."Three Days of the Condor, The Show and The Jerk."
"The Show is like nine and a half hours long," Olive said, glancing at Stiles as he shielded his eyes with his arm, chest rising and falling heavily.
"The Jerk is short."
"Next," Olive smiled.
"The three faces of Costner: Bull Durham, Dances with Wolves, The Postman," Stiles suggested. "Tom Petty playing Tom Petty, that great big speech about: 'Once upon a time, there was a thing called mail'. It'll make you laugh, it'll make you cry—and I know you like to snail-mail stuff."
"What about a Ruth Gordon film-festival?" Olive said excitedly, smiling. "Harold and Maude, Rosemary's Baby, and that great episode of Taxi."
"I've got it!" Stiles blurted, snapping his fingers and sitting up abruptly. "The worst film-festival ever: Cool as Ice, Hudson Hawk and Electric Boogaloo."
Olive laughed. "I've never even heard of any of them. Hey, how about a horror film-festival. We could start off with something utterly ridiculous—Final Destination III; then we go on to Silence of the Lambs. And then we could go full-on nightmares-for-months The Exorcist."
"There is something so deeply disturbing about your total unflinching adoration of all things horror," Stiles said to her, and Olive smiled, glancing covertly at Isaac as he used his t-shirt to wipe his face, his cheeks flushed, his dark-blonde hair curling beautifully, revealing a strip of skinny but subtly-toned tummy and the faintest dusting of a blonde happy-trail.
"And since we won't be able to sleep afterwards, we could watch Psycho again, and The Strangers," Stiles continued, grinning, getting into the spirit of the horror-marathon. He glanced from Olive to Isaac, quirking an eyebrow. "Terrifying, because it's based on a true story—are you listening to me?"
"Yes, I am," Olive smiled, biting the inside of her cheek, eyes still on Isaac.
"Okay, what'd I just say?" Stiles asked.
"We should watch Psycho and The Strangers because we won't be able to sleep after watching The Exorcist and Silence of the Lambs, and The Strangers is terrifying because it was a real-life event."
"That…is incredible, how do you do that?" Stiles asked, jaw hanging.
"I'm a woman; we multitask," Olive smiled softly.
"Hm," Stiles gave her a thoughtful look. "Or we could watch The Shining, and there's that great episode of Ghost Hunters."
"I watched that one with the little girl who died in winter and her body was stored in the salt-cellar because the ground was frozen," Olive said, glancing at Stiles. "With the heat-sensor camera in the windmill tower. That was creepy."
"Yeah, they go to the hotel Stephen King wrote The Shining in," Stiles grinned. "Freaky doesn't begin to describe some of the things that happen."
"Hey, there's also that movie where a group of miners in South America get their path out of the caves blocked, and they all die in some horrific way, like getting scalped, what's it called, Scott?" Olive glanced at Scott.
"Okay, you're asking the guy who had to sleep with the lights on for three days after watching The Bogeyman, I wouldn't know!" Scott chuckled.
"What about When a Stranger Calls?" Olive asked, smirking subtly. "Let the Right One In? Please tell me you can handle I Know What You Did Last Summer."
"My masculinity is dwindling by the second in your eyes, isn't it?" Scott sighed.
"What about the new Wolfman?" Stiles gasped, grinning delightedly at Scott.
"With a few episodes of Supernatural?" Olive beamed.
"That one with the flesh apple-tree scarecrow creeped the hell out of me," Stiles shivered.
"There's a werewolf episode, too," Olive reminded him, and Stiles laughed as Scott sighed, glancing around tensely, as if afraid they were being overheard.
"That one ends sad," Stiles said quietly. He grinned. "What about the one at the lunatic asylum? Or those feral kids who live in the walls of the house?"
"I can't watch that one," Olive shuddered. She hated that episode.
"What about the one where they pull pranks on each other?" Stiles grinned.
"Ghost-Facers!" Olive giggled, beaming, and Stiles grinned, cooing the theme-tune with her.
"How come I'm not invited to this movie-night?" Scott asked.
"You wanna watch Ghost Hunters and Wolfman with us?" Olive chuckled.
"Well, no, not with you, I'm still recovering from watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre with you," Scott shuddered, and Olive laughed.
"Watching it with me was fine," she reminded him with a chuckle. "It's what I did after that got your heart-rate going."
Isaac, glancing over at them curiously, asked interestedly, "What'd you do?" Scott and Stiles glanced at each other, before Stiles smirked at Olive.
"We finish watching the movie, right, and since it's late and my dad's not home, we're all too freaked out to split up or run the risk of our gas-tanks emptying on the drive home, so we decide to just crash in my room," Stiles said. "We all fall asleep—next thing I know, my door's being kicked open and someone's revving the engine of my dad's chainsaw."
"They whipped out of bed so fast," Olive giggled richly, grinning at Isaac, who was smiling. "There was screaming, cursing—"
"My dad filmed it on his cell-phone," Stiles said, his expression deadpan as Olive giggled; Scott had shivered, shaking his head.
"It was his idea," Olive said, dusting off her hands and smiling, chuckling.
"Uh-huh, was it his idea for the prank you pulled on me at the station?" Stiles asked, giving her a sardonic looked. Isaac settled down on the grass, not close enough to be totally within the very tight inner-circle made up of those who knew, but close enough to have a conversation.
"What prank?" he asked, glancing from Stiles to Olive. Stiles sighed heavily, glancing at Olive.
"Okay, well, every year, my dad gets new recruits at the Sheriff's Station, right out of the police-academy," Stiles explained. "And every year, they have to take a tour of the station morgue. My dad's been friends with the county coroner since before I was born, so, since I was twelve, every year, he's helped me pull a prank on the new recruits." A smile started to spread across Isaac's face, his eyes twinkling.
"He takes off his clothes and climbs onto one of the empty beds in the morgue refrigerator," Scott said drily, shaking his head.
"Uh-huh. And when the new recruits get to the morgue, the coroner wheels me out and gets his scalpel to start cutting me up—only for me to wake up and start screaming," Stiles said, smirking, and Isaac laughed. "My record has been two recruits fainting, one screaming so high a dog could hear, one passing out and cracking his head open, all in one go."
"So what was the prank your dad and Olive planned?" Isaac asked, a grin flickering across his face.
"So this summer, just after Olive moved to town, we'd spent enough time with her to know she has a sense of humour, right, and she loves horror-movies," Stiles said. "And she makes food miniatures, so she has infinite patience. I tell her, yeah, the new recruits will be coming out of the police academy soon, and I explain about the prank I pull every year. So, you know, I do my usual; I take off my clothes, climb onto a tray, Scott locks me in the freezer and lies in wait under the coroner's desk with my clothes and a video-camera to record everyone's reactions; I'm lying on this freezing metal tray, completely naked, surrounded by dead, decomposing bodies in varying states of mutilation, and there's a smell and I'm freezing my junk off, and my ADHD is kicking in, so my nerves are like…whatever, so I'm in the freezer for like an hour, and I can hear the coroner is talking to the recruits," Stiles said, and as he spoke, a grin started to glow on Isaac's face, his pretty blue eyes flicking to Olive.
Stiles sighed, shivering. "All of a sudden, I hear this voice right beside me say, 'It's cold in here, isn't it?'" Isaac laughed, a rich, warm chuckle.
"I didn't think a guy could scream that high-pitched," Scott said drily.
"Yeah, I'm screaming my lungs out, and all of a sudden I'm being pulled out of the freezer, and my dad's whole frickin' department is out in the morgue laughing their asses off, Scott's got his video-camera recording everything, and my dad's crying with laughter, and they pull Olive out of the spot next to me," Stiles said, giving Olive a look as she smiled at Isaac when he caught her eye, grinning.
"That's brilliant," he chuckled, grinning.
"You are a sick, sick individual," Stiles said, patting Olive's knee.
"What about you, Isaac, you into horror-movies?" Scott asked. Isaac cleared his throat, glancing at Olive.
"Well, I work in my dad's cemetery, digging graves, so horror movies would just get my imagination going into overtime," he said, smiling shyly.
"You work in a cemetery?" Olive said, surprised, and she sat up a little straighter, a grin spreading across her face.
"Okay, bad idea; you really shouldn't have told her that," Stiles sighed, shaking his head.
"Why not?" Isaac asked shyly, blushing a little as if he thought he'd done something embarrassing by admitting his after-school occupation.
"Because that's like the beginning of every Stephen King novel ever written! Dude…" Stiles shook his head.
"We so have to watch Night of the Living Dead together," Olive said, smiling at Isaac.
"Zombies," Stiles shuddered.
"I haven't been able to watch horror-movies since I was eight years old, and my older-brother Camden let me stay up to watch Friday the Thirteenth with him," Isaac said, clearing his throat softly, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at Olive.
"Brilliant movie," Olive grinned.
"It was…terrifying, but I sat through it, I didn't want Camden to think I was a wimp," Isaac said, with a subtle smile. "We just hadn't realised that while we'd been watching, our mom had snuck downstairs."
"Moms can be really cruel," Olive grinned; her own mother had jumped at her while Olive had been in the shower after watching Psycho at a friend's thirteenth birthday-party.
"Especially that night," Isaac said, smiling warmly; Olive realised that Isaac hadn't mentioned his mother at all, the other day when they'd been working on their Chem. Lab report.
"We were watching it," Isaac continued, "and I was so relieved that the woman got into the boat, you know—"
"Oh, no…" Olive moaned softly, smiling, and Isaac started nodding.
"And my mom screams at the top of her lungs, and Camden and I both scream like hell, and the deformed kid jumps out of the water and scares us again, seconds after, and we both screamed again, my heart was in my throat, I can still remember Camden bolting out of the room, he was so terrified!" Isaac chuckled, his smile warm and reminiscent.
"That's brilliant," Olive chuckled.
"That sounds like something you'd do, Olive," Scott said, glancing at her.
"I had to sleep with the light on for a week," Isaac said, smiling softly.
"Definitely something I'd do," Olive nodded.
"Yeah," Stiles said slowly, giving her a look. "Like… I don't know…attacking me in the shower with a knife after we watched Psycho."
"It was a ladle, not a knife," Olive said, shrugging, as Isaac laughed. "And in consideration of your dignity, I didn't get your dad to record that on his phone…though your screaming still gives me a special kind of joy."
"I know, I can always tell you're thinking about it because you start giggling to yourself—like you're doing right now." Olive was indeed giggling to herself unabashedly; Scott and Stiles were both so easily terrified by classic 1960s horror movies, she could categorise different levels of psychological torture she inflicted on them after watching each movie in her collection. Stiles was definitely the best screamer; Scott got pouty and angry if she scared him, he was a bit of a spoilsport.
"Oh, just wait until Halloween," Olive sighed, giggling to herself.
"You're going to torture is, aren't you?" Stiles asked, with a heavy sigh.
"One word," Olive grinned, giggling. "Poltergeist."
"Crap," Stiles pouted, shivering. "That's after we go trick-or-treating, right? And the school dance?" Olive laughed.
"Yes, Stiles, I'll go trick-or-treating with you," she smiled warmly. She shook her head and smiled at Isaac, who gave her a sweet smile.
"Excellent, I was thinking, Scott's already got his costume figured," Stiles smirked at Scott, who gave him a look. Olive laughed; she'd known other teen wolves who embraced their alter-egos on Halloween. "I thought, I could go as Batman, you know, and you could go as, I don't know, a Playboy Bunny."
"Wow," Isaac chuckled, shaking his head. "Subtle, Stiles."
"I am not dressing up as a Playboy Bunny," Olive laughed, cheeks warming.
"Why not? Come on! You're like my first girl friend, alright, girls are supposed to dress slutty on Halloween, that's the rules. At least according to Mean Girls."
"Wow. That you've even seen Mean Girls says a lot about you," Scott laughed; Stiles shrugged unabashedly.
"Talk to me when your little wolf-whipped ass stops swooning every time Allison struts past in her tight little skinny-jeans," Stiles said archly.
"'Wolf-whipped'… That's cute," she chuckled. Stiles shrugged, winking playfully.
"Okay, so what're you gonna wear for Halloween then?"
"I was thinking Catwoman, actually," Olive smiled.
"Halle Berry, like it," Stiles grinned.
"God no!" Olive grimaced. "Stiles!"
"Julie Newmar," Isaac suggested, glancing at Olive, who beamed at him. How had he known she meant the original Catwoman, the finest and the most flirtatious, curvaceous feline in TV history?
"How did you know?" she smiled.
"Best Catwoman there ever was," Isaac smiled. "She has the classiest costume."
"Alright, but could you at least wear thigh-high boots?" Stiles asked; Olive laughed and reached out to slap him lightly upside the back of the head.
"You are such a boy," she said, shaking her head and chuckling.
"Well, whatever," Stiles said, shrugging, and Olive chuckled as she climbed off the ground, dusting the seat of her Cyclones-red gym shorts.
"Alright, gather round!" Coach Finstock called, and Olive smiled at Isaac as they meandered over to the coach. "Alright, Monday we're gonna start our new sport module; bring your swimsuits, a towel, goggles and nose-plugs if you need 'em. I don't care if you have self-esteem issues about your little scrawny asses in your Sponge-Bob board-shorts, Greenberg, nothin' but a doctor's note will get you out of the pool, so all the rest of you, take some Pepto-Bismol and grow a pair. We'll have our own amateur Olympics swim-meets every Friday, then you guys can goof off, play Chicken, watch the pretty cheerleaders bouncing around in their little bikinis, whatever…" Lydia Martin preened, smirking indulgently; Olive wondered how the rest of the girls in the class would handle having to get their hair wet.
"Hit the locker-rooms!" Coach called, and they started dawdling up the bleacher steps, across the soccer-field to the big gymnasium and the locker-rooms, enjoying the freedom to utilise the last-half of the period to have an extra-long lunch.
"Hey," Scott said softly, tugging on the back of Olive's t-shirt. Olive glanced at him, eyebrows raised inquisitively. "So listen…Allison and I were talking, maybe we could all hang out together, do something fun? Maybe this weekend?"
"All of us? You don't mean another lame group-date, do you?" Olive asked painfully.
"No!" Scott said quickly, eyes widening in alarm. "No, just…just hanging out. Me and Allison, you and Stiles…Jackson and Lydia."
"What?"
"It was Allison's idea," Scott shrugged. "I mean…she's friends with Lydia, and you're friends with me and Stiles…but you don't…really seem to be friends with her…"
"I guess," Olive said quietly. There were myriad psychological blocks that prevented her wanting to have anything to do with an Argent…but as best she could tell, Allison was actually a sweet girl. Olive had issues with her hair most days when she tried to pull off curls, she thought Allison's curling-iron had attacked her while she slept, but she was a nice girl.
"So I know you have gymnastics in the mornings, and you work in the afternoon on a Saturday, but um…maybe we could all do something Saturday night?" Scott asked.
"What about your game?" Olive asked.
"Well, we thought after the game," Scott said. "It won't go on too late. We could all go for pizza or something. Maybe see a movie."
"A movie sounds good," Olive smiled. "I'm…thinking about coming to your game, by the way."
"Oh, yeah?" Scott smiled. "Well, maybe you could sit with Allison and Lydia? They'll like you, I promise." Olive smiled.
"I guess I'll have to break out some of my more fashionable wardrobe pieces," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Lydia, who was pristine, having walked two laps of the four needed to complete the mile, and claiming she had a cramp too bad to continue, with her fruity pink lip-gloss and shiny, styled hair.
"I'm sure whatever you wear will be fine," Isaac said softly. He gave her a smile that said a lot, a brief hint at the more mischievous side of him that was usually reserved for Stiles. "Isaac says you always look pretty." Olive glanced at Scott, surprised.
"He said that?" she asked softly. Scott nodded, smiling. Olive smiled to herself; Isaac had said she always looked pretty? That compliment was…highly flattering. And from Isaac!
"He's not the only one who notices," Scott smiled. "Allison thinks you're really pretty, too. And even Lydia grudgingly admitted that you always look pretty, no matter what you're wearing."
"Lydia did?" Olive asked curiously. "Wait…when were you all…talking about me?"
"That really terrible group-date, when we went bowling," Scott sighed.
"Well, this will be better, it's really just…hanging out," Olive said, with a sardonic smile at Scott, who chuckled drily.
"I guess. Maybe it'll be better with you and Stiles there," Scott said, sounding a little more enthusiastic. Olive smiled, glancing around.
"Wolves are always stronger in packs," she said softly, and Scott smiled awkwardly. "Stiles and I will be your pack-mates."
"Thanks," Scott chuckled softly.
"Just don't expect me to run around topless or anything," Olive said, glancing at Scott, who laughed.
"My girlfriend is a nationally-ranked archer, I wouldn't dare think of asking you to run around topless," he grinned, and Olive rolled her eyes, amused.
A.N.: Setting the stage for Olive's crush on Isaac, I'm not sure when I want them to have their first date/hang out. I'm getting ideas from Gilmore Girls; and I've got an idea about the parent-teacher conference night; and also I already have an entire outfit planned out for Olive to wear to a school dance, and I want that to be an important moment in her and Isaac's relationship, about his dad… But I don't know when I want that to be. Not a formal dance, like Homecoming, or the Winter Formal, just a dance… So please leave comments about what you think would work! Thank you.
