The next day, walking down the hallways at school, Lydia felt in a daze. Her headache had finally gone away, but she felt off somehow, and she couldn't quite explain it. No one stared at her or whispered about her by their lockers, so she wasn't causing any waves, and perhaps that was precisely the problem. People did drugs at parties all the time, so no one thought anything strange about her birthday party. No one except Scott and Stiles, that was.

Out of nowhere, a body slammed into her, pushing her into the quiet hallway leading to the locker rooms, and her back hit the wall, knocking the air out of her. "Sorry! I'm sorry! Lydia! I didn't mean- You look really beautiful today! I mean, you look beautiful every day, but today you look dazzling, even more so than usual-"

"Shut up, Stiles," Scott reprimanded, pushing his shaven-haired friend out of the way and fixing Lydia with her stern gaze that always made her want to laugh. She had to admit, she was attracted to Scott simply because of his freshly-won popularity, but aside from that his lower jaw was a bit crooked and he had the most humorous way of glaring at someone out of anyone she had ever seen. Needless to say, he didn't frighten her in the least as he glowered at her.

"What did you put in the punch at your birthday party?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and momentarily reminding her of a more childish, thinner version of Derek.

"Maybe it wasn't her, I mean just because it was her birthday party and she was serving the punch and was the only person who wasn't high, it doesn't mean it was her," Stiles offered, gesturing wildly as was his way. Lydia raised her eyebrows as she looked at Scott with a pointedly, 'perhaps-Stiles-is-right' stare.

"Shut UP, Stiles."

"Shutting up." To which Stiles promptly crossed his arms high over his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits and blowing out his cheeks like a puffer fish as if shutting up was the hardest thing in the world for him to accomplish.

"What... did you put in the punch?" Scott repeated, his brown eyes seeming to glow, but Lydia figured it was only her imagination.

"I'm really not quite sure why you're accosting me in the hallway, Scott," she intoned pleasantly, cocking her head to the side like an innocent puppy. "Do you even KNOW Allison's mother died two days ago? Or do you honestly not care? Because you don't seem like the unsympathetic type, so maybe you're just stupid." She batted her eyelashes for extra sting and then stood to walk away from them both, leaving them in the hallway alone before they figured out she was leaving and chased after her.

"Wait! Lydia!" Stiles called after her, winning the race to reach her first like he had a magnet programmed to her magnetic signature that attached him to her. "Excuse my friend, he's had a few blows to the head recently, and he's sort of irritable. What he meant to ask is if you know what may have happened at your birthday party the other night and why we were all witnessing our worst nightmares." He smiled one of those smiles where his teeth were clenched together and his eyebrows rose, a sweet guileless 100%-Stiles smile that softened her whether she liked to admit it or not.

Stopping in the hallway, Stiles almost running into her and creating a pile-up of the three of them, she sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. Clutching her textbooks to her chest, she spilled out the explanation she'd been forming in her head for the past several nights. "I've been having a hard time since Peter Hale bit me, and I've been... seeing him, and he basically possessed me and had me drug all of you. Derek's been helping me through it." The last part was stretching the truth a bit, but she figured his name would get a reaction out of the two boys.

"Derek? Hale?" Scott asked stupidly.

"Like... hairy, grumpy, irritable, grouchy Derek Hale?" Stiles added, scrunching up his nose as if he smelled something.

"Well, I'm kind of helping him, I guess. I don't know! It doesn't matter, I just..." she paused and took a deep breath, drawing herself up to her full height (which was still several inches shorter than both of them), "I'm sorry. I never would have done such a thing to any of you, and I'm sorry."

Stiles nodded as if that proved something, and he smiled triumphantly at Scott who glowered back at him in confusion. Smiling dismissively at them both, she continued, "And now I'm late to Chemistry. I'll see you both later." With that, she turned on her heel and left them contemplating all over the hallway, glad she didn't have to explain herself further.

Following Chemistry class, Lydia darted out as soon as possible to avoid speaking with anyone she knew. Allison, especially. The dark-haired beauty had a dark cloud around her that almost literally consumed anyone who got close to her, and she didn't look up past her notebook most of the time. Scott was obviously still clueless, although he now knew about her mother's death (how that hadn't come up before now, Lydia would never figure out), and she simply didn't feel like hanging around to talk to Stiles again while he yammered at her like always. Leaving them all behind, she hurried toward the cafeteria and her daily salad topped with pale, crusty croutons accompanied with sickly carrots and tomatoes. It wasn't the most delightful meal she could imagine, but it gave her something else to do other than try to figure out a way to keep Allison from killing Derek.

And there was that other thing too.

Peter's plan still rang in her mind, and she cringed just at the thought of it. He had set her aside to be Derek's mate because she was immune to him (literally) and she could kill him. He hadn't gone into detail about the latter, only that she somehow had to get on Derek's good side and make him fall in love with her. Or at least choose her to be his mate. How in the world she was going to do such a thing was beyond her. Derek was unlike any male she'd ever known; he was dark and brooding and downright grumpy (to coin Stiles's phrase). She was known throughout the school, and all of Beacon Hills, as being the bouncy, sunshiny girl with the strawberry blond hair and the best clothes. How she was going to figure out this dilemma, she had no clue.

Besides, she didn't love Derek; she didn't even know him! If she had ever loved anyone, that had been Jackson. But now he wanted nothing to do with her and acted like he was better than she was. Not that he had been a great boyfriend all along anyway - he was, honestly, an asshole - but they had had some pretty good times. She still loved him although she shouldn't.

Sighing to herself, she almost ran into the blonde before she saw her and drew up short. Looking up at the girl who stood a foot taller than herself, Lydia groaned inwardly as she recognized Erica. The girl who had once been the unnoticed one, the girl with no figure and frumpy clothes and horrible hair. Now, she was 'Erica' and the boys drooled all over her and her tight-fitted leather pants.

"Lydia," she drawled, her red lipstick freshly reapplied if its brightness was any clue. Lydia smiled an irritated smile and tried to push past her, but the female werewolf easily stopped her. Her elbow dug into Lydia's shoulder, driving her back against the half wall that lined one side of the cafeteria. "That's not very nice, Lydia. I'm talking to you."

"No, you're actually assaulting me, if you want to get literal," she corrected irritably, cocking her head and glaring at the taller blonde. "Now please remove your leather-clad arm from my collarbone." She shoved her tray forward, driving it into Erica's hip, but the girl merely grimaced and pushed harder.

"What are you doing with Derek?" she hissed, jealousy clear in her voice although Lydia couldn't understand why. "If you're going to hurt him, I'm going to have to kill you." Erica smiled, her too-white teeth reflecting the light of the sun as it blared through the window.

"What am I doing with Derek? I'm not doing ANYTHING with him; I barely know the guy. I just went to apologize to him," Lydia snapped, squirming to get away but unable to fight the brawn of the werewolf girl. "Now, remove yourself before I remind you what an epileptic seizure feels like."

The biting remark clearly threw Erica's composure, and she loosened her pressing hold just long enough that another figure grabbed her and shoved her away. Surprised by the intrusion, Lydia watched with wide eyes as Jackson pushed Erica away so fast the other girl slammed into a nearby table and shook her head dazedly. Seeing who had attacked her, Erica seemed to second-guess retaliating, and settled for shooting Lydia a dirty look before stalking away.

"Jackson..." she whispered when the other students began eating again, having already forgotten the incident. He fixed her with his blue-green eyes, his spiked dirty blond hair perfect just like his expensive button-up shirt and perfectly fitted blue jeans. She swallowed heavily, her feelings for him resurfacing in his presence, more strong than she'd expected.

"Meet me in the locker room," he whispered, and then he was gone.