One of the things I resented most in life was the fact that I had to organize my schedule according to everyone else's just because I didn't have my own car. Allison had spent the afternoon at our house completing some chemistry work and discussing design ideas so we could finish off her bedroom. I promised her that when the time came, I'd help her paint the walls, move furniture, and anything else she needed help with. We were still debating colors after dinner, and just when I went to drive her home, Mom snatched the van's keys from my hands, claiming she needed the car to go grocery shopping. At that point, Lydia had jumped in, offering to drive Allison home in the Beetle. So, only slightly bitter, I'd climbed into the back and let Allison take shotgun. I climbed out and hugged her goodbye, raising my eyebrows when Lydia gestured to the backseat once more.
"Um, why?" I asked. "You got an imaginary friend more important than me?"
"No," Lydia giggled. "But I do have a very corporeal boyfriend to placate." I groaned, stamping my foot on the pavement.
"Lydia!" I whined. "Come on, you let me get in the car without letting me know I'd be third wheeling your date?"
"Oh calm down!" she scolded, waving her hand and ushering me into the car. "We're just going to the video store, and then you can lock yourself in your bedroom as usual and not see us for the rest of the night." I didn't respond, just huffed and dropped my head back to hit the seat a few times before we settled into silence.
I wasn't sure if Lydia realized, but being locked in a moving car when Jackson and Lydia argued about movies was almost as bad as sitting in on their dates. At least they were usually happy on their dates, but the couple never, ever agreed on what movie to rent. And the battle began the moment he stepped into the car. Jackson wanted a sports movie, Lydia wanted a romance. Jackson wanted an action film, Lydia wanted a comedy. It might have been endless, if we didn't eventual reach our destination.
"Now Hoosiers is not only the best basketball movie ever," Jackson was still reasoning when we pulled up to the video store. "It is the best sports movie ever made!"
"No," Lydia replied firmly.
"It's got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper!"
"No."
"Lydia," he pleaded in a tone that screamed loss-of-patience, "I swear to God you're gonna like it. Come on, Sadie, back me up."
"Hell no," I replied from the back seat, inspecting my chipping nail polish. "I'm not getting dragged into the middle of this unless you guys want to rent Remember the Titans."
"Oh my God!" he groaned. "Would you shut the hell up about your stupid football?!"
"No," I answered smirking.
"No," Lydia echoed, before glancing at me in the rearview mirror, adding, "and no." Jackson snapped.
"I am not watching The Notebook again!" he screamed. Lydia smiled patiently as if she was dealing with a petulant two-year-old who wouldn't share his toys. After a few seconds, Jackson crumpled under her gaze. He ripped off his seat belt and threw the door open, muttering profanities under his breath.
"Whoo-ch!" I mimicked, snapping my wrist in the air with a whipping motion. Jackson glared wordlessly at me. He brandished a finger at my face before slamming the door shut with as much force as he could muster and storming off to the storefront. I giggled. "How do you do that?"
"Easy," Lydia replied smugly, fixing her lipgloss in the rearview mirror and turning up the stereo. "He gets my movie, he gets laid." I chuckled, rolling my eyes as she her phone out of her purse. "Come here, I want a picture." I scooted up behind the driver's seat, grinning and pouting along with my friend as I let her snap a couple photos of us.
"Okay, okay," I said after about six. "That's enough."
"Maybe for you," she commented, still hold the phone up and fluffing her hair on camera. "But I look great today and I do not intend to waste it." She smirked as she snapped a couple more photos of herself, the camera sound repeatedly going off like an annoying tick. I shook my head with a tiny smile, aimlessly staring out the window at the empty parking lot.
In an instant it became inexplicably darker. My head whipped around, looking at the video store to see that almost all the lights inside had gone out. The ones that were still on were flickering rapidly, like you'd see in a horror film.
"Lydia," I prodded, tapping her shoulder. "What's going on?" She glanced up from her phone and snorted, looking back at the camera.
"Jackson's just being a little, immature asshole because we're not watching his sports movie. Chill, he's just trying to freak us out." As soon as she finished her sentence, I saw a burst of sparks inside the door.
"Shit," I muttered, shifting forward so my torso was leaning in the space between the front seats. "I really don't think he is…" But Lydia had completely tuned me out, humming along to the music absent-mindedly as she tried to catch a good picture in the constantly changing light source. The remaining lights were gradually dimming, making it harder and harder to see inside. I couldn't see Jackson, and soon enough I could barely make out the shape of the shelves in the dim red light of the décor bulbs. An uneasy feeling was growing in my stomach. I froze when I saw a large shadow moving through the shelves, blocking the slight red light they were reflecting. My stomach lurched, the scene of the school bus carnage flashing before my eyes. Making a split decision, I slide out the side door completely unnoticed. I left it open, cautiously inching around the car as I tried to see inside the store. "What are you doing, Jackson…?" I caught a flurry of movement from inside, as it looked like all of the shelves were knocked over one by one, like dominoes. I sped back to the car, reaching in the door and fishing around the backseat for anything that could be used as a weapon. My fingers closed around the ice scraper Lydia kept for the winter. I winced as my fingers skimmed the fragile plastic, but deciding it was better than nothing, I pulled it out anyway. "Lydia, call the police," I breathed.
"Hm?" she replied, not taking her eyes off her most recent picture. I moved away from the car, forcing myself to walk towards the store. I caught a few muffled sounds from inside the store over the music, but nothing distinguishable.
"Jackson?!" I called, but there was no response. At least, there was no response from him. Instead, a loud roar ripped through the air, my mouth dropped open, eyes clenching shut and prickling with tears as my fear of the animal attack was confirmed. "Jackson?!" I screamed again, fearing the worst. Again, the response I got was definitely not from Jackson.
The window in front of me shattered suddenly, sending me jumping back with a scream of surprise. Glass fragments flew everywhere, showering down on the car and skittering to my feet. But the sound was nearly lost under the screams, both of which I hardly noticed. Instead, my attention was completely devoted to the creature in front of me.
It certainly wasn't a mountain lion, that was for damn sure. For one, there was no way a mountain lion could be this large. Even crouching, ready to pounce, it was twice as tall as a cougar, and it wasn't just bigger by height. The entire creature was simply massive, a bulky torso that looked solid as stone, and strong, thick limbs that were tensed to fight. I wasn't sure how much of it was because of the waning light, but the whole thing seemed pitch black, dark, rippling skin pulled tight over the muscles with patches and tangles of coarse black hair covering nearly every inch. It had razor sharp claws at the end of what I expected to be paws, but the digits were far too long and separated to call them that. I thought back to the destroyed bus, how far apart all of the scratches had been. The creature's hands looked more human than anything. When I looked again, I realized it wasn't even leaning on all fours. Its weight was on its hind legs, one claw on the ground in front of it to steady it, and the other one hovering behind its back. It didn't look like an animal winding up to pounce. Actually, it looked more like a human would if they were squatting. However, the creature's face was face from human. The skin was lighter there, grey and rough looking, wrinkled over the bridge of its snarling snout. The nose and jaw were wet and glistening, coated in slobber and spittle that dripped from the beast's dirty, pointed fangs. But its eyes…its eyes were something I knew were going to haunt my memory for the rest of my life. There was no visible white, just an entire expanse of black, with a piercing, luminescent red iris, almost exactly the same as neon advertising lights flashing inside the store. They scanned over me, sizing up the prey, the meal before it, and observing every tense and shift of my body. My hands clenched my weapon tighter, knuckles turning pure white on the plastic ice scraper that felt more and more like a toothpick with every passing second. I knew this had to be it, the wild animal that had killed all those people. The bus driver, the brunette girl, maybe even Jackson now. God, I hoped Jackson was okay. And Lydia, still screaming from inside the Beetle. Because from the look in this…thing's eyes as it growled at me menacingly, I could only assume I was not going to make it out alive.
Before I could think, the beast sprang towards me. I didn't even have breath to scream, waiting for tooth and claw. The breath was knocked out of me as one of those tree trunk arms swung and hit me in the midsection. It knocked into my stomach, my ribs, forcing out any wisp of air that might have been hiding in my lungs. But I didn't fall. I didn't collapse. Instead, I was flying, and air was flying past me as I was thrown aside like a rag doll.
Bang! My hip first, then my arm, and finally head, all slamming into Lydia's car within a nanosecond of each other. I crumpled to the ground, but I couldn't feel myself hit the pavement. I felt as if I was still floating. The only thing I was aware of was my body pulsing, every inch of me pounding repeatedly, not exactly painful, just strange and frankly annoying. I didn't like it. It echoed in my ear, like…like I was swimming in Lydia's pool and people were continuously jumping in at even intervals, blocking out all other sounds. Everything had gone black, but slowly everything was getting lighter again, becoming tinged red. My heart throbbed in fear, imagining the bright, red eyes gleaming down on me, preparing to rip my throat out. The lurch in my stomach had pushed my body into motion. As the darkness slowly faded, I could feel myself being dragged into awareness. It started with a high-pitched noise, first a pinprick in the swelling silence and growing louder and louder, until I was terrified my ears would begin to bleed too.
"Sadie! Sadie! Oh my God, please wake up! Sadie!" It was Lydia. It had to be. There was no one else I knew who screamed as loudly and high as that. I tried and failed to open my mouth, taste returning to me and alerting me to the presence of blood. My body was beginning to tingle, and then all at once I was slammed with a wall of pain. My face screwed up, and I instantly regretted it. I let out a muffled groan, cheek pressed against the asphalt of the parking lot. "Sadie?! Oh my God, thank God! Sadie! Oh please be okay!" I was conscious enough now to hear her voice shake, feel her violently shaky hands pushing my hair back and holding my hands. She'd gotten out of the car and was kneeling next to me, sobbing next to my head.
"Shh," I let out shakily, trying to open my eyes. Lydia gasped, nearly choking herself.
"I'm sorry!" she coughed through the tears, before continuing in a hush. "Sadie, are you alright? Oh my God, y-you're—you're still b-bleeding! Th-there's so much…" Her fingers timidly returned to my forehead, gently brushing blood away from my eyes.
"Head—Head wounds bleed a lot," I muttered blearily, trying to shift myself a little. "Police?"
"I-I called them!" she informed me dutifully. "I told them we were here and you were hurt and I don't know what happened and-!"
"Jackson?" I winced. Lydia was nearly sobbing again.
"I don't—I don't know!" she cried. "I did—I d-didn't see him I-I don't know what happened! I don't know where he is or if he's okay or-or-!"
"Okay, okay," I tried to hush her. "Help me up."
"N-no!" She replied, teary eyes going wide. "No! No, you are not moving!"
"Lydia!" I demanded, a little more forcefully this time. "Help me up." I rolled onto my left side with a groan, trying to avoid jostling the right arm I'd slammed into the car. Lydia reluctantly scooped me up, looping one arm under each of my own and pulling me to my feet slowly. I immediately shifted my weight forward, grabbing at the Beetle for all I was worth as the world spun around me. Black spots dotted my vision and I felt woozy.
"Woah, woah, Sadie?!"
"Yeah," I winced. "Hold on." I took a couple deep breaths, my hands on the car and Lydia's arms around me the only things keeping my legs from buckling. My head was still throbbing, and I was still dizzy, but after a minute or two I had collected myself. "Okay," I grunted, and Lydia moved to wrap my left arm around her shoulders. She held my left hand with her own, and wrapped her right arm around my waist to keep me steady. Holding my right arm close to my chest and keeping most of my weight on my left leg, Lydia and I slowly made our way to the front door of the video store. We paused at the entrance so she could push the door open and then crept quietly inside.
"J-Jackson…?" Lydia called out, her voice still watery.
"Lydia!" Jackson's response came immediately from father in the store. We looked ahead, and in the flickering lights I could just make out Jackson on the floor, legs pinned under one of the fallen shelving units.
"Jackson!" she cried, pulling me along as fast as I could go so she could get to her boyfriend.
"Lydia, where is it?! Are you okay?!"
"Th-The…the…It's gone," Lydia replied as we approached. Jackson pushed up on his arms, using all his strength to try and pull himself forward, but he couldn't. When he'd given up again, he laid his chest back on the ground, head now facing us. That was when he caught sight of me.
"Shit! Sadie, are you okay?!"
"I look okay to you Jackass Whittemore?" I snapped, limping along.
"What the hell happened?"
"Threw me against a car," I groaned, relinquishing Lydia so I could stumble into the shelving unit across the isle from Jackson. I leaned my back against it, taking deep breaths and attempting to convince myself I was on solid ground and not a Tilt-a-Whirl. I lifted my left hand, fingers grazing across my face. I gently prodded the gash on the right side of my forehead. I hissed in pain, retracting my fingers to find them painted red. I could feel the blood dripping down the right side of my face, and I was fairly certain I had another cut on my right cheek from where I'd fallen on the pavement.
"Shit," Jackson hissed, redoubling his efforts to get out from under the shelf. "Lydia! Lyd, you gotta help me." She nodded, standing up from where she'd knelt next to his head and moving to the shelf. Instead of trying to move straight forward, Jackson tried to scoot to the left, getting his body as close as he could to the wider part of the space. Lydia tried as hard as she could to lift the shelf, even just an inch, and after a few minutes of groaning and cursing, Jackson managed to escape. As soon as he did, he jumped up, stretching his legs and throwing his arms around Lydia. She clutched at his jacket, crying silently and burying her face into his collar. He held her close, muttering quietly for a few minutes. I tried my hardest not to interrupt them, concentrating on my deep breathing so that I didn't pass out again. Finally, the sound of sirens broke the couple apart. "Ugh, thank God," Jackson praised, gently pulling away from Lydia. He glanced over, spotting me gripping the shelf for dear life. "Shit, Sadie, come here."
"No offense, Jackson," I groaned, "but I'm not really in the mood for a touchy-feely moment."
"Sadie," he pleaded, for once not annoyed by my sass or stubbornness. "We've got to get out of here. The clerk was dead when I came and we've gotta get you to an ambulance." He walked over to my left side, noticing how my right arm was still pulled to my chest. "Come here," he repeated, pulling my hand off the shelf and pulling it up to his shoulder.
"I can do it myself," I huffed.
"Sadie, you can barely walk," he begged. "Now shut the hell up and let me help." Before I could really figure out what I was agreeing to, Jackson had wrapped my left arm around his broad shoulders and scooped me up bridal style. I wanted to protest, but losing the feeling of the ground on my feet disoriented me, and I was sent into another dizzy spell. I groaned, leaning the uninjured side of my head against his shoulder. Despite the pain it caused me, I scrunched my eyes shut, trying to block out the flashing red and blue lights that had materialized in front of the building. I vaguely heard Jackson mutter something along the lines of, "About time. Come on, Lydia," before he was moving forward. I heard the clamor, felt the cold breeze of the air as we stepped outside. It seemed like three different people were trying to talk to us at once, pelting us with questions the moment we exited the store. Jackson went into hostile, demanding mode, and I could literally feel the vibrations in his chest as he yelled for everyone to shut up and get me a medic, and he'd tell everyone what happened so he could get home. I didn't hear a peep from Lydia. Now that Jackson and I were both clearly alive, she seemed to have retreated into herself, the shock of the attack finally sinking in.
My eyes fluttered open as I was passed to a frantic medic who seemed less gentle than Jackson. I was rushed into the back of an ambulance, forced to lie down on a stretcher inside while the first responders ran around my head, prodding at my bruises, pressing at my cuts and shining a bright flashlight into my eyes at irregular intervals. They asked me stupid questions like "when is your birthday?" and "what's your middle name?" assumedly to keep me awake, and to test whether or not I had a concussion. Luckily enough, none of the cuts I'd sustained from being bashed into the car and then slamming into the ground needed stitches. Still, the open wounds on my face stung as they were cleaned and set in place to heal with small butterfly bandages. There was nothing anyone could do about the bruises, except put some ice on them and tell me to take it easy. I hadn't broken anything, strangely enough. My arm, hip and ribs were all perfectly intact. Well, my arm wasn't perfect. They had to put it in a sling, a well-made black one with strong Velcro that kept my arm glued to my chest. I cursed under my breath as I thought about wearing it for the next week. Why couldn't the damn thing have ruined my other arm, the one I didn't need for eating, writing, and everyday life?
As the medics reviewed my condition from head to toe, I listened to Jackson tell his story to the officers two or three times. He'd stormed into the rental store, started looking around the first few shelves, and called out in the semi-dark store for assistance finding The Notebook. Then he'd seen the feet sticking out at the end of the aisle. He'd walked over to find the clerk already dead, slumped against the shelving, eyes wide and vacant and throat slashed. That's when he'd heard the animal growl and hidden behind a shelf. Whatever the animal had tried to do next had resulted in all the shelves being knocked over, pinning Jackson to the floor in the process. He'd explained cautiously that the sound of the commotion must have scared the thing off, because before he could recover, he'd heard glass shattering as the thing jumped out the window. A few minutes later, Lydia and I had limped into the store. He repeatedly explained that all he knew about what had happened to me was that I'd been thrown into the car, as no one wanted to ask me while I was being examined. I heard his tone get harsher and harsher until he was literally spitting, "Look! I was squashed under a pile of shelves by a dead body! I have no fucking clue what the hell happened to her!"
But even in my slightly dazed state I knew Jackson wasn't telling the whole truth. The way he'd skittered around talking about the animal, the way he said he hadn't seen it but only heard it, the way he'd paused before assuming it'd been scared off by the avalanche of DVDs. I knew that Jackson had seen more than he was letting on and he either didn't want the police to know what he saw or, much more likely, didn't want to believe what he saw himself.
Lydia still hadn't spoken. She was perched delicately at the mouth of the ambulance, looking down into her lap where she held one of Jackson's hands. She'd stopped looking behind her to check on me a while ago, and was now sitting frozen in complete silence. I wasn't sure how much of the creature she'd seen. Staring down the thing had felt like ages to me, but I may have only been a second or two. Definitely enough time for Lydia to finish screaming from the suddenly shattering glass and glance over before the monster threw me into her car. He silence was certainly unnerving. I don't think I'd gone so long in the same room with her without hearing her speak before.
"Well," the medic finishing off my sling started. "You got off easy. Amazingly enough, no concussion, and there shouldn't be any scarring either. Just keep the arm in the sling for a week or so and you'll be back in action."
"So that means back to school tomorrow?" I asked quietly, and the woman sitting opposite me giggled.
"Sense of humor's a good sign. I mean, no one would blame you for taking a day or two off from shock, but physically you could go back tomorrow, yeah. The most I can do is get you out of gym."
"I'll take what I can get," I muttered, trying to smile. "Thanks." The woman patted me kindly on the shoulder and I walked towards the end of the ambulance where Jackson and Lydia were shooing away another medical officer.
"Why the hell can't I just go home?!" Jackson yelled at another officer as he approached. "I'm fine!"
"I hear ya," the new man said calmly. "But the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard. They just want to make sure you don't have a concussion." I silently thought that this made perfect sense. I'd received the immediate medical attention because of my worse condition, so no one had really had time to examine Jackson or Lydia yet. As they had less wounds than I did, it would even take that long. But Jackson was hearing none of it.
"What part of 'I'm fine' are you having a problem grasping? Sadie hit her head twice as hard and she's fine!" he ground out, throwing an arm back to gesture to me. I glared at him. No one had actually told him that I was okay yet. He was just choosing to decide for me so that he could leave the premises. More than that, his incessant yelling and hostility was way past starting to get on my nerves, not just because of my almost-concussion. I saw the officer glance back to where I stood fuming in the ambulance. "Okay? I wanna go home!"
"And I understand that," he replied soothingly, but Jackson cut him off, now completely pulled away from Lydia. I walked up behind her, letting my leg touch her shoulder to try and comfort her with my presence without having to sit down.
"No, you don't understand!" Jackson bellowed, "which kind of blows my mind since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you! Okay?! Now I wanna go home!"
Maybe it was my pounding headache. Maybe it was the stress from the accident. Maybe I had just finally had it with all of Jackson's self-entitled bullshit. All I knew is that his jab about police officers had been the last straw before I snapped.
"Jackson, shut the fuck up!" I screeched, causing almost everyone at the scene to stop in their tracks to look at me. The shrill scream echoed around the metal interior of the ambulance, and even Lydia jumped a bit, turning to look up at me. "In case you're too stupid to notice, there are bigger things going on right now! A man is dead, and there is a murderous wild thing on the loose! I think you can stand to lose a few hours of your goddamn beauty sleep! Holy shit! You'd think the fucking lacrosse captain would be able to keep himself from name calling long enough to check that he was in peak physical condition, but apparently you're not even mature enough to only think about your reputation! So do us all a favor and apologize, shut up, sit down and cooperate for like two seconds so you can get the hell out of here!"
By the end of my speech, my left hand was glued to my head as I winced. Screaming had strained my face and made me flush, obviously not optimal conditions for facial abrasions and borderline-concussions. The investigators quickly moved back to their duties as two or three EMT's swarmed toward me. Even as they eased me into a sitting position and checked my head again, I could feel all the gazes on me. Lydia was simply staring at me with a blank face, her eyes glazed over as if she had instinctively turned to me, but wasn't actually seeing me. The elder officer was warily watching me with surprise and concern, and Jackson looked as if I had just slapped him in the face. His expression kept flickering from complete and utter shock, perhaps even a little worry, to a look of anger for the officers and because I had insulted him. His jaw would sporadically clench and then return to its slack, awed position. Just as the medics returned with an icepack for my side and a cold cloth for my face, another shout rang out.
"Oh whoa, is that a dead body?!" I turned to the left to see that the clerk's corpse was being wheeled out of the video store on a gurney. I was thankful for the sheet covering most of his body. I wasn't sure I could handle any more trauma tonight.
"Everybody back up. Back up," the officer instructed softly, pushing the spectators back and easing Jackson towards the ambulance. Reluctantly, he climbed in, slamming himself angrily next to me on the bench. After a few seconds though, some of the anger had dissipated.
"You okay?" he asked tightly. I huffed.
"Well you already decided that I was, apparently. But yeah, I'll survive, thanks for pretending to care."
"Sadie, shut up," he sighed. "Of course I care. I just want to get the hell out of here."
"Then maybe you should try and cooperate once in a while, instead of always trying to be the big man calling the shots." Jackson let his head fall back to rest on the ambulance wall, rolling his eyes. "They're police officers, Jackson," I reprimanded. "You're not the boss of them. And you should really apologize."
"Whatever," he mumbled.
After I had been officially released again, this time with pain medication, and it had been confirmed both Lydia and Jackson did not have concussions, we moved back towards the mouth of the ambulance where the officer was waiting. He was calm, but more than anything he looked tired. His face was softly lined under his short, graying brown hair, and his green eyes were still brimming with concern for the three stupid, unfortunate kids in front of him. As he turned towards us, I noticed the glint of his badge on his jacket. Not just an officer, but the sheriff. Way to go, Jackson.
"So, I know you kids want to get home, but I still have to ask a couple questions about what happened," the sheriff said as we approached. He turned his attention to me and gently asked, "Miss, I know you've been through a lot tonight, but maybe you could stick around so we could get your side of the story while your friends go home?" I nodded, slightly disappointed that I couldn't go to bed just yet, but understanding.
"Sure. That's fine, Sheriff." As I answered, Lydia's hand shot out to grab my wrist, looking at me fearfully with wide eyes. I tried to smile, pulling her into a hug. "I'm fine, Lyd," I assured her. "I'm gonna be okay. But these officers have to know what happened so they can get this thing under control. Go with Jackson, he'll take you home."
"I-I don't want to leave you," she muttered, and I gripped her tighter with my left arm.
"I'll be fine. When I get home, I'll come stay in your room, okay?" Lydia nodded into my shoulder and pulled away.
"You sure?" Jackson asked, glancing between the sheriff and I as if he were dangerous or something.
"Yeah, get out of here."
"I'll make sure she gets home safe," the sheriff assured him. Jackson nodded, pursing his lips.
"Fine. Come on, Lydia." He wrapped his arm around the shaken girl and led her away towards the Beetle. I could already feel the anxiety welling up in my chest as they walked away from me, leaving me alone at a crime scene where I wasn't even sure what had really happened myself. Jackson got in the driver's seat, and in a minute, they were gone. The sheriff sighed and turned back to me.
"I am sorry," he repeated firmly. "We'll try and get you out of here as soon as possible." I nodded, wrapping my left arm across my waist at an attempt for security. "I'm Sheriff Stilinski," he introduced, sticking out his hand and quickly switching to the left one when he noticed my arm was in a sling.
"Stil-? Oh, yeah. H-Hi, Sadie Bennet," I stammered, suddenly remembering that mom had mentioned Stiles's father was the sheriff. I glanced over at the cruiser to see the boy sitting there himself, mouth hanging open slightly as he watched his father and I intently. He tried to smile when I looked over, but instead it wound up looking like a grimace. Sheriff Stilinski took my hand with a warm smile, and I could suddenly see the resemblance.
"Now, I know you wanna go home quickly, but take your time," he instructed soothingly. "I know you've been through an ordeal and it might not be easy trying to go through it again."
"I'll be fine," I assured him, nodding as he led me a little bit away from the ambulance's flashing lights, to a quieter part of the parking lot. When we stopped, a thought occurred to me. "Actually," I started. "If I uh…fake a mental breakdown, do you think Stiles could come over here?"
"What?" the sheriff asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, well uh…"
"I'm gonna tell him anyway," I reasoned, "and it would be a lot easier to talk about it if I felt like I was talking to my friend and his dad, instead of being interrogated by the sheriff." The man considered that for a moment, before tilting his head to the side in consent.
"Of course," he agreed, and I mumbled my thanks as we turned to look at the cruiser a couple of yards away. Stiles had remained in the car, under what I assumed was his father's orders, but he was half out of the chair, pressed uncomfortably against the glass as he tried to watch us and find out what was going on from a distance. The sheriff sighed, simply putting his hands on his hips and jerking his head to call him. In an instant, Stiles was tripping out of the car. He fell over himself in his haste as he tried to run to us, then doubled back to snatch something from the car. Then, less than gracefully, he sprinted toward us.
"Sadie! S-Sadie, are you okay? What happened? I-Is Lydia okay? You don't look okay. Are you okay?!" he gushed, grabbing my shoulders with a crumpled take out bag in one hand.
"Yeah, yeah," I assured him quietly. "I'm fine."
"Do you need anything? Do—Do you want a curly fry?"
"What?" I asked, giggling quietly. He smiled, pulling a container of fries from the bag and offering them to me. "Uh…sure," I muttered, grabbing one. I nibbled on the end before turning to the sheriff. "Oh, um…do you mind?" I asked him. He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and confusion, and I glanced back at Stiles before muttering. "It's just um…I've been told you're not allowed to have them…" I immediately felt stupid. It was embarrassing that I could even remember that stupid little fact, Stiles had mentioned, let alone to bring it up in conversation. Stiles was gaping at me, but Mr. Stilinski chuckled.
"No, no. Go ahead," he encouraged me. "Someone might as well enjoy them." I smiled softly, returning to eating the fries.
"So," Stiles piped at a pointed look from his father. "What happened?" I glanced cautiously between the two of them and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes for a moment before focusing on the fidgety brown-eyed boy in front of me.
"Lydia managed to trick me into going with her to pick up Jackson," I began. "They were coming here to pick out a movie for their date night or whatever." I waited tentatively, wishing I didn't have to talk about Jackson and Lydia's relationship in front of Stiles. He waved off my hesitation, nodding for me to go on with a sad smile. "Well, they were fighting the whole way here before Lydia finally convinced him to go get The Notebook, and we stayed in the car. We were just playing around taking pictures on her phone for a while before the lights cut in the store. So I looked up and saw them flickering and sparking, but Lydia thought Jackson was just playing a prank cause he was mad they weren't watching his movie. So she was just playing the phone and I got out of the car to check on him. It was kind of dark, so I couldn't see much in there from where I was, but then I thought I saw the shelves falling over, which I guess they did, but I went to grab the uh—the ice scraper thing from the car, you know, just in case, and I told Lyd to call the police. I was just about to head inside to find out what was happening when the window shattered and…"
"And what?" Stiles asked gently, leaning toward me.
"J-Jackson said the noise from the shelves must have scared it off," I explained rapidly. "I mean he heard it and hid after he found the body, and then it must have tried to attack him and knocked everything over and gotten spooked because the next thing I knew it was jumping through the window at me."
"D-Did you see it?!" Stiles demanded frantically, and his tone made me look at him. I could see the panic in his eyes, the concern, the worry, the fear. But it wasn't because he thought I'd been hurt. He was urgently asking me if I had seen it. I knew that thing could not be a mountain lion, and I was pretty sure Stiles knew too. He wanted to know if I knew what I'd seen, if I was smart enough to realize that there was something else going on here besides animal attacks. And I wanted to tell him that I did. I wanted to scream at that pale face and demand answers, demand to know what the hell was going on and why he was lying about it. But I knew I couldn't. If Stiles and Scott knew what was really causing the attacks and didn't come forward with the information, then they were lying for a reason. It was dangerous, something no one was supposed to know about, or maybe something that would get them in trouble. So as much as I desperately wanted to shake his shoulders until he told me everything he knew, all I could do was stare into those coffee brown eyes and will him to realize that I knew something was going on. I shook my head.
"Not really," I lied softly. "Everything happened so fast. B-But when it burst through the window it kinda just ran around and ran headlong into me I guess. I don't have any claw marks, but I couldn't really see it because it was dark and I was screaming and it was so quick and next thing I know I'm smacking into the car and Lydia's waking me up on the ground." Stiles looked paler than usual as he stared at me, his father looking on with worry.
"And you don't remember anything about it?" the sheriff asked. "Do you know what it was?" I shared a long look with Stiles before answering.
"A mountain lion," I lied. "A-At least I think it was. I know it was big. Bigger than any mountain lion I've ever seen, but I don't know what else it could have been. I don't think it's just wild, it might be sick. I mean, it was huge, and I don't know why it didn't just pounce on me rather than run into me. Not that I'm complaining." Sheriff Stilinski sighed, and I saw Stiles relax just the slightest bit.
"Sick, okay," the sheriff muttered. "I guess I'll have to look into what might make a cougar do that. What was the EMT's final verdict?"
"Well, I'm battered and bruised, but nothing's broken and I don't have a concussion. They gave me some pain medication, but besides that they just told me to take it easy and leave my arm in the sling for a week. No idea what I'm doing about schoolwork."
"You could dictate to me," Stiles offered with a grin as I took another fry.
"Psh, with your handwriting?" I scoffed. "No way, Stilinski." He pretended to be offended, snatching the container of curly fries back from me. I chuckled half-heartedly and turned to his dad. "I don't mean to be pushy but… Do you think it'd be alright if I went home now?"
"Yeah," the sheriff sighed. "Yeah, I'll take you home. Just give me a minute to clear things with the officers." He rested a hand on my shoulder momentarily. "Glad you're okay, Sadie." Then he walked away, back towards the crime scene. I turned back to Stiles, who was watching me closely.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" he asked softly. I nodded with a slight smile, before wincing at the motion.
"Yeah. Get home, get some sleep and some pain medication in me. I'll be fine." He smiled.
"Yeah, good. Don't… Don't do that again." I raised my eyebrows.
"I'll try not to make a habit of it." I watched him as he fiddled with the bag in his hands, not meeting my gaze. "Just so you know," I added abruptly, "the only reason I'm not currently interrogating you is because I'm tired and I'm in pain. Don't expect the same kindness tomorrow." Stiles looked up at me, not necessarily in surprise or alarm, but wearing a weak mask of confusion. The moment he saw my conviction, the mask fell away. He looked resigned and a little upset. Instead of lying again, he chose to ignore the statement completely.
"Come on, we should get in the car." He led the way to the cruiser, gentlemanly enough to open the back door for me.
"No," Sheriff Stilinski said flatly before I could get in.
"What?" Stiles asked.
"You're sitting in the back," his father informed him. Stiles held his arms up, affronted.
"What? Why?!"
"Because Sadie is a young lady and recent victim, and you're a delinquent," he explained. "Back seat. Now." I smirked, causing Stiles to glare at me as he angrily climbed into the back seat, slamming the door behind him. Gracefully as I could, I took my place in the front seat, having to twist to pull the door shut. I looked over my shoulder to see Stiles slumped in the back.
"Comfy?" I asked through the safety grate. He glared.
"Ha, ha. Yeah, keep laughing, Bennet."
"Oh, I intend to," I assured him with a sweet smile, turning back to the front. I briefly gave Sheriff Stilinski directions to the house before we set off on the road.
"So you're living with Lydia Martin and her mother, right?" the sheriff clarified.
"Yeah," I replied. "Our moms have been friends since high school."
"And how long have you been living here?"
"My mom and I moved in at the beginning of the summer," I replied, biting my lip and turning to look out the window.
"That's nice. How are you liking Beacon Hills?"
I took a moment to appreciate Mr. Stilinski's careful consideration before answering. Much like Stiles, he'd easily sensed that parents, specifically my father, would be a bad topic, and swiftly glided right past it. I doubted he knew about my father's death. Maybe Stiles had warned him, but given Stiles's same habit of avoiding talking about parents in the plural, I assumed that the talent came from personal experience. Instead of talking about absent parents, Mr. Stilinski asked me about school, what I liked to do in my spare time, and how I'd become friends with Stiles. He even complimented me on the sign I'd made for Scott at the first game, something he and Melissa McCall, Scott's mother, had both appreciated immensely.
"Thank you for the ride home, Sheriff Stilinski," I said as we pulled up to my house. It was late, but the lights were still on inside as I assumed everyone was waiting up for me.
"No problem at all, Sadie," he replied casually. "I'm sorry it had to be in the cruiser. Not exactly the best ride in town."
"It's alright," I assured him with a smile. "It's been a while since I've gotten to ride in a police cruiser."
"Telling me you've got a criminal record?" Mr. Stilinski asked, though clearly not worried at all.
"No, no," I chuckled. "I uh…my dad used to take me around…" The sheriff smiled softly, and Stiles sat up in the back, fingers poking through the grate.
"You never told me your dad was police," he said, eyes wide. His tone wasn't harsh at all, not accusatory or even excited. He just seemed pleasantly surprised that I'd voluntarily revealed information about a topic he dared not breach, information he could relate to since his dad was the sheriff.
"I know," I answered simply, smiling sadly. After a moment, I cleared my throat. "Well, goodnight." I reached for the door handle, but Stiles spoke up again.
"Oh, I got it!" he chirped, going to open the door for me. Unfortunately, his door wouldn't open. He shook the door handle violently, desperately attempting to get out. I snickered while Sheriff Stilinski just rolled his eyes with a small smile.
"Oh come on, Stiles," I chuckled. "You can't just open the back door to a cop car from the inside. You should know that." Stiles pouted, slumping back in his seat. "I got it." I carefully climbed out of the car, leaving the passenger door open as I let Stiles out of the back.
"Thanks," he grumbled, and I shook my head. I rested my hand on top of the car, poking my head back inside.
"Goodnight, Sheriff Stilinski. Thanks again," I bid politely.
"My pleasure," he responded. "Nice meeting you, Sadie. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances." I nodded in understanding, remembering to keep it slow this time so I didn't make my head ache. "It seems like a pretty cut-and-dry animal attack, but I might have to call you if anymore questions come up."
"That's fine," I assured him.
"Okay, well get some rest. If you need anything, let Stiles or me know."
"Will do. Thank you, sir," I replied, giving him a mock salute. He smiled.
"Goodnight, Sadie." I stood up, turning to look at Stiles who was still standing in front of me, watching me carefully.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" he asked yet again, looking at me earnestly. I opened my mouth to assure him that'd I'd be fine, but looking at those coppery eyes, I found myself reconsidering my answer. I thought about the anxiety that was tying my stomach in knots, not just since the attack, but since I'd seen Scott and Stiles worrying about Derek. I thought about the panic I felt in the moments before the creature had attacked me, the chill that had set over me when I realized that it had killed three people and I though I was next. I thought about those glowing red eyes, and the sharp teeth and black figure that did not belong to a mountain lion. I thought about how Stiles had asked me if I'd seen it, and how I'd snapped and screamed at Jackson for being himself like I'd never screamed before. I thought about my best friend's tears when I was on the ground, her silent, terrified face as Jackson dragged her to the car. Would I be okay?
"I'm gonna try," I answered finally. "After the pain medication kicks in, I should fall asleep pretty fast." I silently worried that being asleep would be worse, a time where my brain could fill in the gaps of what could have happened to me if I hadn't been pushed into the car, if I had died instead.
"Well, if you need me," Stiles offered a tad hoarsely. "Um…if you, uh, need anything, you can text me. Or uh, call me, just ah…let me know." I smiled at him and he fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves.
"Thanks, Stiles. I will." The sincerity in my voice made him look up at me. His eyes traveled down the right side of my body, from the split skin on my temple down to my bruised right hip. Then, hesitantly, he took a step forward and pulled me into a hug.
It was quickly initiated and unexpected, but extremely gentle. He seemed hyperaware of my arm in the sling between us, trying to be comforting without holding me so close that it would be squashed. His left arm wrapped down by my waist, away from the more severe bruises on my arm and hips, while his right arm stayed up by my shoulder. After barely a moment of shock, I wrapped my good arm up behind his back too. I took a deep breath and tried to recollect my thoughts. I'd already put myself in a bad spot by thinking about all the terribly high emotions I'd been having for the last few weeks, and left myself vulnerable by admitting I wasn't sure if I was going to be okay. To be okay, I needed to be calm and collected, a state that was hard to achieve when my face was pressed into Stiles's jacket, which smelt like some sort of cheap but nice cologne and curly fries. I vaguely thought I heard him mutter some form of "I'm sorry" on my left, his chin resting on my shoulder. But before I could respond, he'd pulled away.
"You know no one would blame you for skipping class tomorrow."
"I know," I replied, taking a deep breath of the cold night air. It was refreshing, but a lot less comforting than Stiles's clothing. "But I have to." I gave him a pointed look. "I'll talk to you at school tomorrow."
"Well, uh, goodnight, Sadie," he dismissed, avoiding my gaze. I'd take two steps toward the house before he called me back. "Sadie! Wait, um…" He was hanging on the top of the door, his body half inside the car before he thought of what he wanted to ask me. "Do you think you could, uh text me? About you know…Lydia?" I sighed, smiling softly.
"Yeah. I'll let you know how she's doing." Stiles nodded, looking relieved. "Night, Stilinski."
"Night, Bennet."
Stiles climbed back into the cruiser with his dad, and I waved at them before walking into the house. As soon as the door closed, I was accosted by my mother and Miss Eleanor, who both hugged me frantically and squeaked out one question after another. They dragged me into the living room, shoving a glass of water into my hand and offering me food. Apparently, Lydia had still been pretty unresponsive when she got home. All she had said was that she was fine, and I was answering the police's questions at the video store before locking herself in her room. They hadn't heard from her since. That meant that I spent nearly another hour in the living room, telling the story not once, not twice, but three times so that our mothers knew what happened to Lydia, Jackson and me. Well, almost everything. I'd given them the version of events we'd given to the police; a startled, sick mountain lion that'd knocked me into a car. But they were too worried to be skeptical. Finally, I managed to convince them that my pain medication was making me drowsy, and they let me go upstairs. I changed into a T-shirt and pajama shorts, grabbing my phone before I walked down the hall to Lydia's room. I knocked on the door softly, assuming that she'd already be asleep. When there was no response, I eased the door open, popping my head inside and cautiously calling out her name.
As soon as her name left my lips, and she realized it was me, Lydia sat upright. She ran over to me in her blue nightgown and hugged me, completely silent but eyes rimmed red. I tried gently to quiet her, easing the door shut behind me before hugging her as best I could. The pain medication had only just started to kick in though, and I had to pry myself away from her. She'd been holding so tightly my arm was squashed in the sling, sending shooting pains up to my shoulder. I momentarily thought back to the much gentler hug with Stiles.
Slowly, I pulled Lydia back to her bed, tucking her in before getting in on the other side. She listened as I recounted telling the story to Sheriff Stilinski. At least, I think she was listening. She was on her side facing me, watching me intently, but her eyes still had that semi-glazed look to them, both from shock and exhaustion. Before we went to bed, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, opening a text to Stiles.
"Lydia's still not talking, but she's responding to me at least. I'm staying with her tonight, just to make sure she'll still be okay. Talk to you tomorrow."
Once I had received his response of, "Thanks, Sadie. Feel better," I tucked my phone under my pillow and rolled onto my left side, facing Lydia.
"Night, Lydia. I'm right here if you need anything." She nodded into her pillow.
"Goodnight, Sadie," she mumbled, closing her eyes. She shifted her hand around the mattress until she found my uninjured left hand, and brought it up between us so she could hold it. I smiled softly, squeezing her hand a bit to reassure her that I wasn't leaving. "Sadie?" she asked, a few minutes of silence later. "What was it?" I bit my lip, squeezing her hand to comfort myself this time.
"I don't know, Lyd. I don't know."
A/N: Ahhhh! I told you all things were about to get real! I hope you guys enjoyed it. I really loved writing this chapter, just so exciting! And wow, I just have to say thank you for the favorites, followers, and reviews! I love hearing what you guys think, and I've actually gotten a few ideas that made me rethink where the plot is going a little bit. Thank you to xxxxninaxxxx, Lojo2014o, ScornedxRose, becca1130, bbymojo, LifeToDeath, realityalways-getsintheway, kaljara (god what a great review thank you so much), DetectiveKateTodd, and my three guest reviewers! So please, please, please, let me know what you like, think, and what you're excited for. It makes all the difference and keeps me writing!
There wasn't a lot of Stiles in this chapter, but I tried to lay on some Sadles for you guys. But don't worry. As you can imagine, there is more to come. Also so interactions with other important characters who some people feel I've been neglecting. Don't worry everyone! Derek is on his way soon! (There's actually a snippet of a scene from the next chapter on my tumblr page if you want to check it out!) As for Sadie herself, as "Isaac fan" brought up, please imagine her however you want. Dylan O'Brien is 5'11", and Tyler Posey is 5'10", so I didn't really write Sadie as freakishly tall, just eye-level. Feel free to imagine it from a shorter point of view if it's easier, just as I find it easier to write from the point of view of a tall person. It shouldn't change the story at all.
Thank you all so much for reading, and please keep the interest and interaction up!
-Brittney
**EDIT PS: Guest reviewers especially have been asking me how long it takes me to update. Usually it's anywhere between 2 to 4 days, so I will post the next one on Tuesday. Thanks for asking!