Closing my locker, I lean forward to lay my head against the cold, blue metal. It slightly helps dull the pounding pain from my stress headache. All day my mind has been replaying the rapid changes that had occurred since last week, when school first began. It still feels surreal to me, ungenuine, as if any moment I will wake from this thrilling/concerning dream. But, at the same time, it feels right.
Scott, a boy I have considered family since kindergarten is now a werewolf. And, he's not alone in the matter. Derek Hale is one too. The only difference being he was born not turned.
When Derek looked up at me with his neon blue eyes, I felt the truth in his words. For a moment, he studied me for a reaction. I assume he thought I might jump back from his grasp, in fear or disbelief. It didn't happen. My only response was follow-up questions, not that he bothered to answer any of them. He told me I knew what I needed to know, and anything else would put me further in danger.
I have to find out more. Derek has proved Stiles's theory of Scott being a werewolf. It seems ignorant to assume the species are the only supernatural creatures out there. So, what else is roaming through Beacon Hills? And are they friend or foe to Scott and Derek?
Speaking of Scott and Derek; Stiles and Scott informed me they believe Derek is the one who attacked Scott on that fateful night in Beacon Hill's Preserve. Even though I trust Scott wholeheartedly, I don't for a second consider what he told me to be true. If I had been less in shock, and soberer, I would have argued against their logic.
Stiles, Scott, and I all acknowledge the werewolf who bit Scott most likely tore up the body in the Preserves. A cold, malicious killer does outrageous things such as that. Derek isn't that kind of person. I sat right next to him, my hand on his. In the heat of the moment, I gave him trust, trust he could have taken advantage of. But he didn't because as guarded and mysterious as Derek may be, his secrets aren't dead bodies and turning kids into werewolves.
"Hey, are you okay?"
I turn my head to the side, twisting the skin on my forehead. Allison is walking my way, waving her hand at me.
With a deep sigh, I stand up straight, attempting a small smile. "Do you think it's possible to have a hangover for two days? I think it might be a thing."
Allison laughs, shaking her head in agreement with me. "I think I know what you are feeling right now. Have you tried Sprite? I swear it helps upset stomachs, and I may have some Advil or Tylenol if you need it."
"You must think I am weird. We keep meeting when I am not one hundred percent myself," I apologize. The first time she met me, I was a little too drunk, not able to stand without being dizzy. Now, my mind is being plagued by questions I want to be answered, causing me to be a mental and physical train wreck.
"Stella, I don't think you are weird," she laughs, "We all have our off days."
"Have you Scott talk to you?"
Allison's face lights up, her smile growing, "Yeah, we just talked-"
The bell rings, signaling after-school activities are about to start. If I don't get a move on it, I will be late for lacrosse practice. "I hate to cut our conversation short, but if I am late Coach will make me run with the boys. Watching sports and indulging in them are two different things, and I only enjoy the first part. Hopefully, everything is going great between Scott and you. You're good for him!"
Jogging in the other direction, I mentally cross my fingers for my best friend and the girl he's fallen for. Scott deserves happiness to balance out his life during this confusing time. Honestly, we all do.
Sprinting from the locker room, I run towards my twin, who is chatting with Scott. Somehow those two always manage to make it out of the locker room last, which is kinda handy for me. Coach is more forgiving when more than one person is late. Today, all three of us are barely making it onto the field on time.
"Did you apologize to Allison?" Stiles questions Scott, right as I catch up to them.
"I was literally about to ask that. Maybe we have telepathic powers like Professor X?" I interject, giving Stiles a funny grin.
Stiles puts his palm on my face, pushing me away. "Just ignore Stella. What happened, Scott?"
I fight off Stiles's hand, giving him a swift elbow jab to the stomach. No one silences me; I say what I want when I want.
"Yeah," Scott answers, looking in the distance. He's distracted by something, but I am unsure what. Getting a less than satisfactory explanation, Stiles looks to me for help. Because, now I am useful, whereas before I was only a nuisance.
"I'm not Jean Grey, I can't invade your mind. Can you communicate in greater detail here? What do you mean by 'yeah'?" I press.
"She's giving me a second chance," he continues answering in this distracted trance, causing me to become increasingly concerned.
Granted, I am not an expert at men, but shouldn't he happy Allison is giving him a second chance? Scott's been drooling over her since the first day of school, and when he screws up his first opportunity, she gives him another chance. That's something to jump for joy over. Yet, his feet are planted on the ground, and his mind is in la la land.
"Yeah! All right. So everything's good." Stiles puts his hand up for a high five, but Scott and I both ignore him.
"No," Scott says as he stops walking. He turns to Stiles and me, knotting his free hand in his hair. Whatever he is trying to hide, it's digging it's way out.
"No?" "Scott what's wrong." Stiles and I blurt out at the same time.
"Her dad is one of them, a werewolf hunter! He shot me in the arm with a crossbow-"
"Werewolf Hunters? You were shot with a crossbow? When the hell did this happen?" I hiss, staring from my twin to Scott. How long ago did this happen? And why did this two knuckleheads not tell me? It's not like it's a life or death thing!
"Her dad," Stiles repeats Scott's words, almost as surprised as the young wolf, if not more. My brother's attention quickly comes to me, being aware of how I hate to be ignored. "Sorry Stells, we didn't want to worry you till we knew more."
"Worry me? Whatever you two go through, I go with you! It's how we do things. You two run into a problem, and I find a way to make it lighter, so we don't all get crushed by the issue. We have a process," I explain, waving my hands around like a crazy person.
"Yes! Her father is a hunter! Oh, my god. He hunts werewolves...What if she does? This is gonna kill me," Scott blurts out, suddenly deciding to panic. Talk about late reactions.
"Okay, let's be clear for a second, no one is dying anytime soon. We will figure this out," I assure. A part of me is panicking, but showing the boys my worry would help no one.
Scott became a werewolf week ago, and already he has an enemy, an enemy who shot him with an arrow! This is happening a little to fast. No matter, we will find a way to get through this. We have to.
"Stella, you finally decided us to grace us with your presence. And you too, McCall and…other kid! If you three are late again, I am going to make you run laps until you physically can't! Is that what you want?" Coach shouts, his hands on his hip.
Scott, Stiles, and I will have to put a pause on said crisis, resuming later on tonight. Most likely, Scott putting his energy into this practice will level his thinking a little. A clearer head means better speculation on how to solve this pressing issue.
"Sorry Coach, I was in the library going over plays." Coach is pleased with my lie and yells for the boys to finish gearing up.
Spotting Isaac on the bench, where I sit and watch practice, I go over to him, messing with his hair while taking a seat next to him. His immediate reactions being to swat my hand away, followed by a classic Isaac eye roll.
"Hey! How was your hangover yesterday? Mine was pretty rough." I pull my clipboard out of Coach's bag. He likes for me to take notes on what needs to be improved. Part of me wants to write 'my life' down today.
Isaac continues tying the laces to his cleats, his eyes staying on them. "Who was that guy? The one who took you home the other night?"
He is trying to sound casual, but I hear the ambiguity when he says Derek's name. I still have no idea how Derek knew who Isaac was. He must have guessed it was the guy he saw me dancing with when I felt his eyes on me.
Out of impulse, I start flicking my pen against the paper. It's what I do when I am thinking. Isaac and Allison are the only people who know Derek gave me a ride home from the party. I have a feeling if I let Scott or Stiles in on this information they will give me the third degree.
"You mean Derek?" I ask, saying his name casually, like we are old friends. It's hard to do so because part of me wants to spill the truth, divulge every detail.
Shouldn't my best friend be privy to the information there's a crazed werewolf on the loose who has already killed someone and took a chunk out of my other brother? But, then I would be exposing Scott. Him being supernatural is not my secret to share. Maybe the less Isaac knows, the better.
"How do you know him?" Isaac finishes up tying his cleats, looking over at me with wondering eyes, "Oh, and the ride back with Stiles was awesome. Thanks for that."
"Uh. He is a friend...not one I talk to that often. And again, I am so sorry about my brother." I avert my eyes from him, focusing on my notes from last practice.
Isaac's voice hardens, his hand landing on my arm, stopping my shaking pen. "Stella, be careful of that guy."
"Stiles? He's my twin brother. Granted he's weird- "
"Stella, I am talking about Derek!"
"Oh." I furrow my eyebrows, as I give Isaac my full attention. Does everyone, except me, get a bad feeling when it comes to Derek Hale?
"The way he argued with me about taking you home, it was possessive like. I don't like him, Stella. You should stay away."
It dawns on me that Isaac hasn't really shared his thoughts on other people in my life before, not to the extent where he has said to keep my distance from them. Isaac wouldn't just say that without reason.
And, truthfully, all I know about Derek is his name and the rumors Stiles has told me about the fire. Isaac and I are close, so I should just trust his instinct. But, for some reason, I still feel the need to know more about Derek, the need to not let other people's opinions sway me to think one way or another.
Coach blows his whistle for all the boys to huddle up, but I don't get up. Possessive like? Evidently, Isaac took his demeanor wrong. Isaac had been drinking, and I have seen first hand how is standoffish and rude to others Derek can be. Maybe Isaac was reading into it too much. Or possibly Derek wanted to end the conversation and was just a jerk about it. I could see either happening.
"Alright, let's go!" Coach shouts. "Jackson, take a long stick."
Whistle after whistle, I watch Jackson take on every opponent, getting more aggressive with each one. When it's Scott's turn, I jump off the bench to stand by Coach's side. The whistle signals and Scott goes running for Jackson. Without taking more than two steps, Jackson body slams Scott to the ground.
Scrunching up my face, I attempt to sway my mind from how unpleasant that looked. It's okay, Scott is a werewolf, no harm done. My fingers clasp more tightly onto my clipboard, scratching against the grainy bottom.
"McCall! Hey McCall, my grandmother can move faster than that, and she's dead." Coach comments.
Scott's body language exposes his anger. He won't take his eyes off the ground, and I get a sickening feeling it's because if he does, Coach will see he's turning into a werewolf.
Stiles takes place beside me, his eyes wide with. I mouth to him that it's okay, nudging his arm with my elbow. Scott can harbor this feeling, he's stronger than he anticipates. Coach is always an ass when it comes to lacrosse, and Jackson is still a prick. Scott can handle this.
Coach nods his head at me, and I blow the whistle. This time Scott slams into Jackson so hard, that the star athlete collapses to the ground, letting out an agony filled scream. I drop the clipboard as Scott falls to the ground holding his head. This can't happen, not on the field. Not with all these people around. "Scott!"
Stiles sprints past me, yelling over his shoulder. "I've got Scott. Go check on Jackson!"
I shake my head in agreement, picking up the speed as we go our separate ways. Kneeling on the ground next to Jackson, I try to assess his pain from the way he's contorting his face. "Coach, I need an ice pack!"
The lacrosse boys attempt to come closer, I shout at them, "Everyone back up! Give us some room, please!"
Jackson's eyes are squeezed tight, his teeth grinding against each. I reach my hand to remove his shoulder pads, and he lets out a yelp. "Don't touch me, Stella!" He holds his unhurt arm out, keeping my hand from touching his shoulder.
Coach breaks through the boys, handing me an ice pack. "Jackson quit being a first class jerk. Shut up for one second, and let me see how bad it is," I snarl. Depending on how severe the swelling is, he may need a ride to the hospital.
Jackson's face tightens, he looks furious with me. I don't back down, staring straight into his cold, blue eyes. Reluctantly, he sits up and lets me take off his shoulder pads. He grimaces when I gently touch where he tells me is the most painful spot.
I may not be a doctor, but I know that this isn't just going to be a big bruise tomorrow. When I was younger and needed things to do during the summer, Mama McCall would let me shadow her at the hospital. I am no expert, but I know what does and what doesn't need medical attention, for the most part. Jackson needs medical help.
"Jackson, where is your phone?" I calmly ask, trying to ease into what I am about to say. Causing panic only makes for a worse situation.
"Why?" For once his tone isn't condescending or rude, he's worried. This sport means everything to him; I can see it in the way he plays. Losing his spot on this team, or the ability to play would emotionally wound him.
"You need to call your parents or Lydia. This isn't a simple injury. Ice won't cut it; you need a doctor."
"It's in the front pocket of my bag. Will you call Lydia for me?"
I nod my head yes, before telling one of the other players to grab it. It's refreshing being around him when he's not a bully, but I have a feeling it won't last long.
Again, just like the other night, I get the same feeling someone is watching me. Someone who isn't a member of the lacrosse team. I stand up to grab the phone from Greenburg, a fellow lacrosse player, and a set of emerald green eyes shine from a distant. Derek Hale.
"You are about to be jealous of me, Stiles." I brag, falling belly first onto his bed. Stiles is playing his favorite online game while he waits for Scott to video call us. Computer games do not appeal to me, but Stiles spend hours at a time playing them. Sometimes I draw comics in here when he's playing his game. It's entertaining to hear him cursing at the small screen.
"You had to accompany the arrogant, team captain to the hospital. Why would that make me jealous?" Stiles scuffs, my implication going over his head. Has he not learned anywhere Jackson goes Lydia isn't far behind?
Moments after Jackson was carted away, the strawberry blonde burst through the hospital's doors. You couldn't miss her entrance, she made it grand, demanding the nearest nurse for information on Jackson. Considering the injured jock had only been wheeled in minutes prior, there was little the nurse could tell her. Of course, that was not okay with Lydia. The second she saw me, she stormed over to me, asking the same questions she did the nurse.
"So, you won't care that I got to speak to the love of your life, Lydia Martin?" I tease, my lips curling into a silly smirk.
Stiles spins the chair around too fast, subsequently falling out of it. He stutters over his next words like the lovesick kid he is, "You did what?"
The computer starts dinging, and I waste no time in jumping over my fallen brother to answer Scott's call. He had zero patience with me while I was at the hospital, calling and texting me every few minutes till my phone died.
"What'd you find out Stella?" Scott asks as he laces his lacrosse stick. Good, he found an activity to keep his mind busy.
"Oh, it's bad!" Stiles says as he scrambles to stand up, using the back of his chair to steady himself.
"Don't listen to Stiles. I haven't even told him yet," I lean back, scowling at my twin, "Honestly, it's nothing to get upset over, Scott."
Lydia disagreed with when the doctor came out to talk to us. In the waiting room, she ranted on about Jackson losing his spot on the varsity team, or even worse, his valuable role as captain. When I tried to talk her down, by insisting he probably would just need some rest, worst case scenario being he misses a couple practice and a game, she lost it.
"Stella, just tell me," Scott demands, losing his façade of being calm.
"Jackson has a separated shoulder," I blurt out. I had wanted to put it in a way that sounded like no big deal, but apparently, my big mouth won this round.
"Because of me?"
"Because he's a tool!" Stiles yells, not feigning an ounce of sympathy for his fellow teammate.
"Can he play?" Scott sighs. If Jackson can't play, Coach will be counting on Scott. And Scott confessed he feels it's dangerous for him to play because he lacks control over himself.
"They don't know, Scott," I explain.
The doctors recommended Jackson rest, claiming any rigorous activity could aggravate his shoulder and cause further injury. However, Lydia fought back, attempting to convince the ER doctor to 'give him the shot all pros get for minor injuries'. With an annoyed tone, the doctor refused to administer it, referring her to a specialist who deals with athletic injuries.
Stiles abruptly leans over, pointing to something on the computer screen. "Do you see that?"
I lean in, noticing a dark figure in the corner of Scott's room. From my end, it looks like a person is standing behind him.
"What the heck?" I screenshot the image, quickly sending it to my tablet. I get up, giving Stiles the keyboard so he can type a message to Scott, warning him of the intruder. How did a person just appear behind Scott?
I run into my room, grabbing the tablet off its charger. Once the picture is up, I use an app I have to zoom in and give more clarity to the image. I find myself pacing back, trying to keep my cool as I wait.
"Stella, I lost connection with him!" Stiles yells from the other room.
Right then, the image clears and on the screen is a man, wearing all black clothes, just like he always does.
Barely making it through the mud, my old, rickety, red pickup reaches Derek Hales house. Or what used to be left of it. A dark black, ash color coats the outer walls, sides of the paneling are falling off, and almost all the windows are boarded up. This place no longer looks like a home, more like a bad memory.
My driver's door squeals as I open it. If Derek is anywhere around, he knows I am here now. Hugging my arms together, I close the door with my hip. My large flannel is keeping my arms warm, but my black leggings aren't helping my legs. However, there were no thoughts about changing when I saw the picture of Derek on my tablet. I just grabbed my flannel, to put over my sizeable gray shirt and sprinted to my car. Stiles chased after me and went to Scott's. He believed I was heading there too, that I just needed to stop for gas.
"Did you not learn anything when Scott got attacked? These woods aren't safe." Derek's voice causes me to jump out of my skin. I hate how he appears out of nowhere.
As I spin around to face him, I almost colliding with his chest, getting a nose full of his woodsy scent. "It's also not safe to break into other people's house," I retort back, clenching my arms tighter. Derek is close enough to me that I feel his body heat radiating on to my skin.
"Scott needs to understand he is putting us both at risk." Derek's eyes scan my body for a second before he scuffs at me, "Do you ever wear weather appropriate clothing?"
Ignoring his comment, I roll my eyes. "Am I to believe you just broke into his house to have a friendly conversation with him?"
"No, I told him I would kill him if he played in the game this weekend." Derek walks past me, to the porch.
My jaw clenches shut at his words, a hot rage spreading through my chest. No one threatens my family. Even if his words are empty, which I think is the case. Derek is trying to scare Scott into listening to him, which won't happen. If anything, Derek's furthered my best friend's motive to play. When all odds say no, Scott says yes.
"I won't let you hurt Scott, ever. If you tried to kill him, you would have to take me down first."
In a second, Derek is back, pushing me against my car. His hands slam down onto my car, next to my face. Astounded by his speed, I find myself unable to move. "You think you could stop me? You don't stand a chance against a werewolf. You're only human, Stella!"
I put my hands on his chest, shoving him hard, but Derek doesn't budge. "And you think me being a human makes me any less willing to protect the people I care about? Human or not, if anyone I cared about were in danger, I would do anything in my power to save them."
"Do you have a death wish," his hand grabs my chin, forcing me to stare up at him, "or are you not understand what I am telling you? Your attitude is going to get you killed."
I reach my hand up, placing it on his facial scruff. Derek tenses under my touch, stiffening further when I get on my toes to put my lips right next to his ear. My warm breath hissing my next three words.
"So be it."
Hope you enjoy this chapter! Sorry, the holidays kept me busy for awhile, and I did not have time to post!
A/N: Revised :)
