Hi guys! I FINALLY have an idea of where I'm going with this story! I re-read what I'd written so far and sat down and brainstormed, old school stylee with paper and pen, and now I finally have a plan. This might actually turn out kinda long-ish. There'll be slightly shorter chapters, but more of them. I hope you enjoy! This story's definitely taking some shape now. As always though, there's room for suggestions and if anyone has any ideas, I'd love to hear them. Reviews are love!

The next couple of days passed without incident. Despite Stiles wanting to talk about what had happened, Lydia simply threatened to "punch him in the throat" if he told anyone and he was inclined to believe she meant it. The girl who came back to school on Monday morning was not the pale, shaking mess that had stumbled out of Stiles' kitchen that day - Lydia was back, with a vengeance.

She had swept past the table of people who had been lying to her for so long without so much as a glance their way, and plopped herself down at her old table, filled with cheerleaders and lacrosse girlfriends. They had shared frightened glances before turning their vapid little eyes on her, expectantly. They had been without a leader for so long, and Lydia knew that these girls craved a leader, a queen bee to follow and agree with. She fit right back into her old role, managing to chit chat about nothing with all of them, glad that it had been so easy to fit back in with her old friends. She wondered why she had put this off for so long, why she had stayed hanging out with people who barely talked to her, who ignored her ideas even when she was the only was speaking any sense. Chancing a glance over at their table, she briefly locked eyes with Stiles, who had been staring across at her, sadly. He flashed her a quick smile, which she did not return before turning back to the conversation going on at his table. No-one but Stiles seemed to have noticed she wasn't sitting with them. It just intensified her desire to reaffirm the shallow friendships with the girls she now sat with. They might not be mensa candidates, but at least they listened to her, even if it was only about which plumping lip gloss works the best. A shrill drone snapped her out of her reverie.

"Lydia? Lydia?"

She shook herself, taking a deep breath and ignoring Stiles' eyes burning a hole into the side of her head.

"Yeah?"

The tiny blonde girl next to her took a sip of her diet coke, before speaking.

"I said, what are you wearing to the spring formal?"

Lydia had clear forgotten about the upcoming dance.

"Oh. Erm..." The table of girls all put down their various zero calorie snacks and turned to look at her, waiting patiently for her answer. The truth was she had no intention of going to the dance, but she guessed that would have to change now. She recovered quickly. "My father's having something shipped in from Paris."

A chorus of "ooohs!" and "you're so lucky"'s rang out from the table, and Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. She had forgotten what it was like to lie and not have werewolf hearing detect the dishonesty. It was somehow freeing to know she could tell these girls whatever she wanted and they would simply believe her.

The blonde, Tiffany, spoke again, leaning in for a stage whisper.

"We were all so sorry to hear about you and Jackson. Have you heard from him at all?" Lydia stiffened, glancing at the sickly sweet expression on the girl's face. Several of the other girls had stopped talking now and had turned to her, pity written all over their faces. One even reached forward to pat Lydia's hand, in what she probably thought was a supportive gesture.

Lydia shook her head, her curls bouncing wildly around her face.

"Oh no, no. He's fine. I spoke with him just the other day," she lied, easily, a smile plastered to her face. "Intensive lacrosse training camp in Florida. The very best." She leaned in, whispering now, like it was all some big secret. "There's rumours he might be going pro."

The table erupted into another excited round of "oooh"s and tiny hand claps. Lydia couldn't believe they were buying it so easily. She guessed they believed what they wanted to believe. They wanted to believe that Jackson was at some lacrosse camp, and hadn't, in fact, dumped their queen bee and took off without looking back. They wanted to believe that Lydia was back, and that she was happy and fine and ready to reassert her position at the top of the social ladder. Lydia sighed to herself. She wished she could believe it all too.

"Uh, oh. Tramp alert." Tiffany muttered under her breath. Lydia turned to see Erica walking in, in yet another stripper outfit, a confident grin on her face. Looking her up and down, Lydia admired her confidence, but couldn't hide the tiny flash of judgement she felt at seeing the girl walk in the lunch room wearing leather trousers and a dark purple corset that Lydia didn't believe had been designed to wear as outerwear. The table all averted their eyes as she neared. They might judge her, but that didn't mean they weren't scared of her. The blonde's outbursts were becoming legendary, and in a strange way, she was vying with all of them for most popular girl in school. They might be the social leaders, but everyone loved a bad girl, and Erica's antics were starting to get noticed. Lydia knew that Erica had heard Tiffany's little comment, and silently prayed she would ignore them. Her prayers went unanswered though as Erica swung and headed right for them, slamming her hands on the table, making the girls all jump.

Erica ignored them all, and fixed her eyes on Lydia, her painted red lips curling into a confident grin. Lydia cocked her head to the side, raising her eyebrows expectantly, trying to match Erica's confident demeanour.

"Derek wants to see you." Lydia's confidence faltered a little, as she heard a tiny gasp from Tiffany. "He has your shoes," she added, before casting a sweeping smirk around the table and turning to leave, taking a carrot stick with her.

Lydia calculated for a moment. Should she act surprised, like she had no clue what Erica was talking about? Maybe try and spin it that Erica was crazy and was talking nonsense? She balked a little at spreading rumours like that, knowing how hurtful they could be after her months as a social pariah. She glanced up at the table, who were all staring at her like she had grown another head.

She was pretty sure she could see one girl already sliding a phone out of her pocket, clearing readying to send a text that had the potential to destroy Lydia all over again. She was silent for a second, before calculating the best plan of action and smiling broadly.

"Wow. Subtle!" She laughed nervously, nodding her head at Erica's retreating form.

"What the hell, Lydia?" One of the girls asked.

"You got me! Secret's out!" Lydia said, brightly.

"What? Derek? Derek Hale?" Tiffany asked, incredulously. The girls all glanced between each other, looking for reassurance on how to feel on the matter. They all seemed to settle on horrified, turning worried little expressions back to her.

"What? He's hot!" Lydia shot back.

"Er, yeah. And a murderer!" The other girls tutted in disapproval.

Lydia swallowed her frustration at their ignorance. She wanted to correct them, to explain exactly why they were wrong, but that wouldn't fit in with the vapid persona she had created for herself.

"Well... That was never proven." She took a shaky swig of diet coke to buy herself an extra second. "And besides, he's hot, older, dangerous and drives a camaro. What's not to like?"

Her eyes swept the table, searching to see if her gamble had paid off, as they all took a moment to take it all in.

"But he's like, old!" Tiffany's little brain struggled to process it all.

"24," Lydia guessed, nodding. "I am BEYOND done with high school boys." She announced dramatically. She noticed several of the girls starting to come round, nodding and beginning to smile wickedly.

Tiffany however, was not quite convinced.

"Why does he have your shoes?" She asked, her eyes narrowed.

Lydia leaned in dramatically, stifling a laugh as all the other girls mimicked her action, craning to hear her response.

She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Well, you know how it is. The heat of the moment. Sometimes shoes get lost in the fray." She winked for emphasis, and with that, the table was won. The girls erupted into giggles and questions, and even Tiffany smirked at her.

She interrupted the noise suddenly.

"But it's all very hush hush. You can't tell anyone." She leaned forward again, and they copied her once more. "He could go to jail!"

Lydia sat back in her chair, trying hard to stop the grin that wanted to spread over her face as she surveyed the giggling gossiping now taking place. It had been too easy to worm her way back into these girl's heads. A hint of a juicy scandal, especially one where the guy could go to jail for her, and they were once again eating out of the palm of her hand. Lydia felt triumphant and pretended she couldn't still feel Stiles' eyes on her, as she leaned forward and took another bite of her salad. She was back on top, and his sad little eyes would not be bringing her down.

Is professional lacrosse a thing? I don't even know. Let's just pretend it is, and it is fairly believable that Jackson's gone off to be a pro lacrosse player. Let's not start pulling at threads or the whole thing will unravel.

Hope you're still all enjoying this. I know Stiles isn't featuring much. I actually kinda downgraded his part in it all from what it was originally going to be. Don't worry. He will still be a fairly big part of the story.

Anyhoo, reviews are greatly appreciated! xxx