Hi Everyone! Thanks for continuing to read and review.

Today's chapter features everyone's favorite redhead and also a little insight to the title of the story's meaning!

Chapter 4: Intentions

It had been a few days since the incident at the Delacroix house. Now it was the day of a big lacrosse game and Scott hadn't had much time to think about the school's new resident enchantress with all that was going on. The boys had listened to Derek and did their best to stay away from Clara. Even though they were curious, they refrained from approaching her. She had not done anything but give them cold stares, which was hardly worth freaking out about. Scott began to think that maybe there was no hidden agenda. Maybe she was just like him, a supernatural being in need of an education.

Scott entered the locker room and dropped his stuff on the tiled bench below his locker. He twisted open the lock and began to fish his uniform out of the locker. He began to undress himself, his street clothes falling to a pile on the floor. Soon he was clad in a crimson and white jersey which was bulked up by a set of pads. Stiles appeared next to Scott's locker, already dressed, and sat down.

"You ready for this?" Stiles asked.

"I'm always ready," Scott said, not looking up from the laces he was tying.

"That's the spirit," Stiles said. "You think Lydia's gonna be here?"

"Well, she pretty much comes to every game," Scott answered. "So yes."

"I wonder if Alison will come with her," the boy added, immediately regretting his words as he saw the look on his friends face change. Scott and Allison had broken up, seemingly for good this time. There were no secret rendezvous or stolen kisses in empty classrooms anymore. Just two lonely teenagers wandering through their lives, doing their best to avoid each other. "Oh, sorry man," he added.

"It's fine," Scott stated. "We're fine." Scott's feelings of longing were interrupted by a familiar nasal voice that echoed through the locker room.

"Everybody circle up," Coach Finstock yelled. "Not next to me, Greenberg." The whole room fell quiet and everyone stood in a clump surrounding their eccentric but well-meaning coach. "Today we play Fairview Heights. Their team's a piece of crap. If we lose to them, I swear to God I won't be the only one in this room with one ball. You hear me?"

"Yes coach," the members of the team chanted in unison.

"Good! Now get out there and massacre those sons of bitches!"

The whole room cheered and whooped loudly as they filed out of the locker room in a mass of red and white. They ran onto the grass and the starting players took their positions on the field. The rest sat on the benches, yearning to be put into the action. In the moments before the referee blew his whistle to signal the start of the game, Scott surveyed the crowd, hoping he'd see a certain girls face.

"She's not here," a voice behind him said not too sympathetically. It was Isaac, his blue eyes peering intently though his helmet. "But look who is."

The boys looked up at the stands to see the face of none other than Clara Delacroix. She sat cross-legged by herself, dressed in a oxblood coat with tall black boots over black jeans. Her hair blew softly around her face in the biting wind, but her big, intense eyes were fixed on the field. Her cold gaze met theirs, signifying that they had been staring just a second too long. With her right hand she gave them a devious wave and mouthed the word "hi" with a devilish smile. The two boys quickly looked away.

"What is she doing here?" Scott wondered aloud.

"She doesn't exactly seem the sporty type," Isaac added, twirling his lacrosse stick in his hand. He fought back his natural instinct to show off in front of her, remembering she could be the actual spawn of satan. The sound of the whistle blowing rattled loudly in his ears, bringing his mind back to the task at hand: crushing the opposing team.

Clara rolled her eyes as she watched the boys try to act natural. It amused her how easily she could make two grown werewolves basically piss themselves with so little effort. She watched Isaac in particular as he ran down the field. She had a feeling that he could easily become her favorite play thing. Scott was so serious and moral, and Stiles was, well, Stiles. But Isaac, he could be fun. What kind of tricks could she get up to tonight?

"Come for the game or the cute boys?" a saccharin, high pitched voice questioned, interrupting Clara's train of thought.

"Excuse me?" Clara murmured, confused. She turned around to see a fair, red headed girl clad in a cream coat, thick tights and a tartan mini-skirt sit down beside her.

"I'm Lydia," the girl said in a tone that would have been friendly if there wasn't something slightly fake about it. She recognized the girl from one of her classes. She struck Clara as being a bit snobby and prissy, words that were often used to describe herself.

"I'm Clara Delacroix," she answered. The girl was holding out her hand towards her, so instinctively she shook it. Strange, Clara thought to herself as she felt the girl's soft skin under hers. Normally she could get a lot of information from a person through touch but this girl seemed to have something else. She gave Clara a strange feeling she had never sensed before. It made Clara quite curious. "You're in my French class right?"

"Oui, et histoire," Lydia said, smiling. "Delacroix...that's french for 'of the cross', isn't it."

"Yeah, my ancestors were...priests," Clara lied.

"So which is it Clara? The match or the men?"

Clara hesitated for a moment and then began to speak. "The men," she said, in a rare moment of candid honesty as she spied Isaac and Scott on the field.

"I love a girl who's honest," Lydia said with a small smile. Normally Lydia wasn't one to be overly friendly to other students, especially the new ones. As the most popular girl in Beacon Hills she chose her friends carefully. But that was then, and now everyone thought she was bat-shit crazy. Up until this point she'd had Alison, but they had gotten into a bit of a tiff since she had found out all the secrets she had been keeping from her. With Jackson out of the picture as well she needed someone to hang out with, even if it was only temporary. One friend was better than being a complete loser who sits in the bathroom to eat lunch. Clara was her best bet because she was new and didn't know of her naked escapade through the woods or screaming fits in class. Besides, she had great taste in boots, which already gave them one thing in common. "So where'd you move here from, Clara?"

"Actually, I've always lived here," Clara said. "I've just been home-schooled."

"Hmm," Lydia said while looking the girl up and down with critical eyes. "You could not pay me enough to stay at home with Mama Martin all day. I would be popping Vicodin like candy."

Clara released a faint laugh at the girls comment. "It's not that bad. I can proudly say I've gone almost sixteen years without eating crappy cafeteria food or wearing a gym uniform."

"Ew, did you like wear pajamas all hours of the day?" Lydia asked.

"No," Clara answered. "My grandmother always says that the day you start wearing pajamas as clothes is the day you should be put in a home."

"Amen to that," Lydia said with a smile. "I like your ensemble by the way. Dark colors are so chic right now, it's very Cruel Intentions."

"Cruel what?" Clara asked, confused.

"Oh my God you've never seen Cruel Intentions," the girl shrieked. "We need to fix that, like yesterday."

The two girls were interrupted by a loud roar from the crowd. Beacon Hills had scored and the players on the filed were jumping around each other in excitement. Lydia sprang up to her feet and cheered alongside everyone. Clara remained seated, she was relieved to have a break from the energetic girl. Making friends wasn't something Clara had ever done. It was happening so fast that she was almost getting dizzy. The cheering died down and everyone returned to their previous seated positions.

"Where were we," Lydia continued. "Oh yes, you were coming over to my house after school tomorrow for a movie and facials."

"I was?" Clara deadpanned.

"Of course," Lydia replied. "I don't mean to toot my own horn but I throw a legendary girl's night. Give me your phone."

"Ok," Clara said after pausing for a moment. What harm could one night do? She handed the girl her phone and watched as she typed in her number and address.

Down on the field the players had slowed down for a moment while the opposing team called a time out. Fairview Heights was getting their asses handed to them and needed every moment they could get. Scott and Isaac had joined Stiles on the bench for a quick break.

"Look who's made a new friend," Scott said with an uneasy tone to his voice. The three boys looked up into the stands, shocked to see Lydia, of all people having a friendly chat with the new girl.

"What are they saying?" Stiles asked frantically. "She's trying to convert her to the dark side, isn't she?"

"Lydia already is on the dark side," Isaac said sarcastically.

"They're talking about facials and boots," Scott answered. "Girl stuff."

"Yeah, first it's facials and boots, then its pentagrams and satan worshiping," Stiles added.

"We should warn her," Scott said. He was interrupted by a whistle signaling the time out was over.

"Asses on the field!" Coach cried as the starting players rushed back into the game.

The game was now over and Beacon Hills had won by an amount of points that could only be described as embarrassing for the other team. The crowd rushed the field in excitement, the cheers were almost deafening from the center of the action.

"I'm gonna go say hi to some of the players," Lydia said, having to shout for Clara to hear her over the crowd. "There's gonna be a great party at Danny's house after, wanna come?"

"I can't, I have to take care of my grandmother," Clara lied. Her grandmother was probably the fittest ninety-year-old on the planet and could more than take care of herself. She just wasn't in the mood to party, and she had a feeling she wouldn't be all that welcome, considering two of the star players were werewolves.

"Oh, too bad," Lydia cooed. "Isaac's gonna be there. I saw you talking to him the other day."

Even though it was freezing outside Clara could feel her face burn with embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, stony faced.

"Ok, ok," the girl said in a teasing manner. "I see someone's not so open with her feelings."

"I don't have feelings," she said, an awkward pause arising between the two girls. "For him, I mean. I don't have feelings for him."

"Well, that's probably for the best," Lydia said. "Between you and me, he's kind of..." instead of finishing her sentence the girl simply twirled her finger around her head and made a ditzy face.

"Crazy?" Clara said loudly as if the girl was actually struggling to find the word.

"Homeschooling has taught you many things," Lydia said. "Subtlety was not one of them. Anyway, my house, tomorrow, be there." With that she turned on her heel and marched confidently down the bleachers, her skirt flouncing as she moved.

As Lydia made her way onto the field, she was instantly rushed by Stiles and Scott, Isaac trailing behind them.

"Ok, even Prada doesn't pounce on me like that," Lydia said, referring to her diminutive dog. "What do you want, Stilinski?"

"That girl you were talking to," Stiles began.

"Who, Clara?"

"Where'd she go," Isaac asked.

"She went home. Too bad Lahey, you missed your chance," she said teasingly. Isaac, taken aback by her frankness tried his hardest not to blush.

"You should hold off on getting friendly with her," Isaac stated.

"Why, you want her all to yourself?" Lydia teased, kind of annoyed that Isaac Lahey was telling her what to do.

"She's just, maybe not the person you think she is," Scott said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lydia snapped. "I'm a great judge of character."

"Just stay away from her," Scott said.

"I have this little feeling that there is something you're not telling me," Lydia said in an almost sing-song manner that on anyone else would sound innocent, but on her had a biting undertone. "Is this anything to do with that thing that you guys are that you didn't tell me about and made me think I was insane?" She added, taking advantage of an opportunity to make them feel guilty about all the secrets they had kept from her.

"Yes, kind of," Stiles said. "We just don't want you to get hurt, ok."

"Then be honest with me, for once."

Stiles and Scott looked at each other, silently communicating the way only best friends could. Scott reluctantly shrugged and gave Stiles a look that said "go ahead."

"Ok, the truth is, Clara is a..." he bent down towards Lydia's ear and whispered so no one else would hear.

"A witch," Lydia whispered. "Well, I've seen stranger things."

"And you're not freaked out?" Stiles asked.

"Like I've said, I've seen stranger things," she repeated, shivering at the memory of seeing Jackson as a kanima. "Is she a good witch or a bad witch?"

"We don't know if she's dangerous or not," Scott said.

"I'm personally leaning towards evil," Stiles chimed in.

"Just be careful ok," Scott added.

"Ok," Lydia said. Of course the one girl she had kind of hit it off with would be another supernatural being. But being Lydia Martin she didn't let it faze her. She picked her head up and walked with it high as she disappeared into the crowd to socialize with the other players.

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