My head pounded, and I had a severe case of cottonmouth. I struggled to remember what I had done to merit such a massive hangover. I tried to open my eyes, but it felt like someone had placed cinderblocks on top of my eyelids. I wracked my brain for any memory of myself imbibing large quantities of alcohol at some fantastic party, but came up empty.
Oh my God, what if I have amnesia? I'm going to be like that girl in 50 First Dates. Except I don't really have anyone who would take me on fifty dates.
"Alina?" a voice was calling me. "Are you awake?"
Using what felt like superhuman strength, I opened my eyes. My brother was peering at me anxiously, his blue eyes filled with concern. "Jack," I croaked, feeling like Harry Potter in that scene where Dobby wakes him up by leaning over three inches from his face.
He quickly handed me a paper cup full of water, helping me sit up enough to sip it. "Thanks," I said gratefully, blinking as I gradually recovered my bearings. I took my sterile white surroundings. Clearly I was in the hospital. "Why am I here?" I asked him.
His eyebrows creased. "You don't remember?"
I thought for a moment. Memories were hurtling around my mind, rattling my aching cranium. Stiles…almost kissing Stiles…no, that's not the most important part…why were we stuffed in locker in the first place…? Fuck, the kanima! "Where's Stiles? Scott? Allison? Are they okay? Did they-" I croaked, looking around wildly.
"Slow down," Jack said, holding up his hands. Relief was scrawled across his annoyingly symmetrical features. He was clearly rejoicing about the fact that I had, in fact, maintained some semblance of sanity. "They're fine. Allison only got a few scrapes, so they let her go home. Your nerdy boyfriends are waiting outside."
"Why aren't they in here?" I demanded.
"Family only. Nice to see you, too, sis," Jack added sarcastically.
"Sorry," I said, realizing how my words must have come out. I leaned over to hug him. "Have you been waiting long? How long have I been asleep?"
"Not that long. They brought you in around midnight last night, and it's 10 in the morning now."
"You sat here all night?" I asked, touched by his rare display of non-douchebag emotion.
"Yeah, it was fine," he said hastily. "Don't cry or anything."
"I wasn't going to," I said. "But seriously…thanks," I said quickly. He grinned briefly in acknowledgement. I looked around. "Where are Mom and Dad?" I asked.
"Still away. Dad said they couldn't get a flight back til tonight," he said, his tone layered with disgust. We both fell silent. I should be used to this by now, but I'd be lying if I said a tiny part of me wasn't hoping they'd be here when I woke up. Jack stood. "I'm going to grab breakfast. Your dorky friends look like they're going to pee their pants if they don't come in right now."
I looked over to the door, where Stiles' head was visible every seven seconds as he paced. My lips twitched with amusement. "Wait," I said in sudden panic, searching for a mirror. "Do I look okay?"
"Oh my God," Jack scoffed.
I shot him a dark look, brother-sister bonding time over. "Shut up and pass me a mirror."
He rolled his eyes but grabbed a small, hand-held mirror and passed it to me. "Holy shit," I squeaked. My blonde hair was tangled, random parts sticking up. A shadowy bruise traced my left cheekbone, and my lower lip was puffy with a small cut.
"Yeah, you don't look so hot," Jack said, clicking his tongue as he left, leaving me to try and smooth my hair the best I could before Scott and Stiles came tumbling in.
"Jackson, wait! Do you have a mint?" I called after him desperately. "Jackson! Do you have –" My voice trailed off sulkily as he ignored me. "You didn't answer my question," I mumbled to myself.
"You're awake!" Stiles exclaimed giddily. He slid into Jack's vacated chair as Scott sat by my feet.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked. "Alina, I'm so, so sorry I dragged you with us. I knew I shouldn't have-"
"Scott, you didn't drag me, I invited myself," I corrected him. "And I'm fine."
"Does that hurt?" Stiles asked apprehensively, gesturing towards my face.
I touched my lip gingerly. "It's not that bad. Besides, I look kind of badass now. Like I'm a boxer or something."
Scott snorted. "You look more like you lost in a fight," he informed me in his typically blunt manner.
"She kind of did," Stiles said.
The kanima. There was something...something I should have remembered, but couldn't. I knew it was something important, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "You guys don't look any better," I retorted, taking in their wrinkled clothing and dark circles.
Scott shrugged. "We're fine. Allison sprained her wrist, but they didn't make her stay overnight. They thought you might have a concussion."
"Oh. Do I?" I wondered.
"I dunno," Scott said, his brow furrowing. "Do you feel like you have a concussion?"
"No. I don't know. What does a concussion feel like?" I said with alarm.
"Confusion, headache, nausea, blurred vision, loss of memory," Stiles read from his phone. He looked up. "Do you have any of that?"
Before I could answer, a doctor in a white coat bustled in. "Hello Alina, I'm Dr. Watson," he said, consulting my chart. "We met last night, but I'm guessing you don't remember."
I shook my head. "Sorry."
"That's all right. Alina, you have a mild concussion and some minor bruising and superficial wounds, but you should be fine to go home this afternoon." He peered at me. "Do you have someone to take care of you?"
"Yes," Stiles said immediately.
Dr. Watson raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Are you family?"
"N-yes," Scott said quickly.
"I thought the blond was her brother," the doctor said suspiciously.
"We're…er…her other brothers," Scott lied as Stiles nodded innocently.
"Okay. Then make sure she sets an alarm for every three hours and stays hydrated."
"We will, sir," Stiles answered earnestly.
"Good." Dr. Watson flipped the top sheet of my chart back down and left.
I grinned at the two of them. "My other brothers?" I mocked.
"Hey, it's practically true," Scott said in defense.
"In a way," Stiles ascertained. I wondered what that was supposed to mean. Before I could ponder his tone too deeply, the door swung open again and Jack swaggered in, clutching a brown paper bag and two cups of steaming coffee.
"Get out, losers," he said casually, sitting easily in the chair so that Stiles fell off.
"Jack! Be nice," I admonished.
"No, it's cool," Scott said as Stiles brushed himself off with irritation. "You need your rest anyway. We'll see you later." He pulled Stiles out with him. "I'll see you at lacrosse practice," Scott said to Jack, mock-saluting him. "Co-captain." He ducked out before Jack had time to form a suitable threat, leaving my brother to seethe silently.
Jackson handed me the paper bag, and I unfurled the top excitedly. "My favorite," I said eagerly at the sight of a warm blueberry scone studded with sugar crystals and a fruit cup containing honeydew melon and strawberries. I took a sip of the coffee. Black, just the way I liked it. "I love you," I said as the caffeine slid down my throat.
"You should," Jack said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"I was talking to the coffee," I half-joked. As I glanced up briefly from my scone, my eyes met his familiar blue ones. Something jarred inside my mind. I knew something wasn't right, but I still couldn't figure out what exactly it was. I stared at him.
"What's your problem?" Jack scoffed, leaning away uncomfortably. "Do I have something on my face?" He rubbed his nose.
"No, sorry," I said absently, still staring at him. "I was just thinking…" I frowned slightly. "What's your problem with Scott?"
"What do you mean? He's just a dork," Jack said, crossing his arms.
"No, it's different lately. Something's changed," I said with certainty.
"You don't know anything," Jack snapped, his sweet side back into its typical state of hibernation.
"I know you asked Derek fucking Hale for steroids," I snapped back at him.
"It's not. Your. Problem," Jackson reiterated, emphasizing each word.
"You've been my problem since you decided to take up half my space in the womb," I shot back.
"I'm older than you. You took up half my space."
"Just because you got to shove your face out three minutes before me doesn't mean-"
"Whatever, Alina." He looked pissed, and I knew I'd touched a nerve.
"Is it because you're jealous of Scott?" I pressed. "You can't stand not being the best?"
He stood up, sending the chair screeching backwards. "I know, Alina," he said in response. His eyes were blazing, his chest heaving.
"You know what?"
"I know about Scott. And Derek. And now, apparently, Isaac. I know what they are."
What? Since when?! I voiced my question aloud.
"It doesn't matter. All that matters is I know, and it's supposed to happen to me too!" Jackson said angrily.
I tensed up. "Is that why you were filming yourself on the night of the full moon?" I realized. So he could see himself transform.
That is so typically Jackson. He nodded furiously. "So what happened?"
"Nothing!" he snarled. "Nothing happened to me at all. Derek bit me and it should've worked but it didn't and I don't know why."
"Why would you even want to be a werewolf in the first place?" I asked.
He looked at me as if I was crazy. "Strength. Speed. Super hearing and sight. You're telling me you wouldn't want that?"
"I've seen Scott transform, and I really don't think the hairy thing would suit me," I said glibly.
"Joke about it all you want, Alina, but don't bother lying about it. I know you well enough to tell when you're lying your ass off."
"This isn't about me," I said, sitting up fully and pushing the blankets away. I struggled to stand up. "You're going insane."
"The only thing that's insane is me as a weak, pathetic human," Jackson spat. There was an odd glint in his eye, a coldness, something I finally recognized.
Then it clicked. "It's you," I breathed in shock.
Thanks for the reviews! I know this chapter is a bit shorter, but I wanted to update. Let me know what you think so far!
