A/N: Hello everyone!
I have no excuse for this insanely long wait ... I had most of it written down less than a month after the last chapter was put up, but the last little tidbits gave me hell and it's been a year fron hell on top of that. Which kinda sucks because I've had lots of other chapters written for ages, I just need to get to them!
Now, this one is waaayy more relaxed than the previous chapter. I've had to replay the episode like 5 times at least to write everything right about that night in school and gosh! I had forgotten how unnerving that episode was! Now here comes the aftermath of that horrible horrible night! Enjoy!
Also a big thanks to the guest who left me a review the last time, you made my day!
She was being chased. She could hear the groans behind her. It was at her heels. She was running blindly through the darkness, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her lungs burning in her chest like they never had before. She was scared out of her wits, only capable of running farther even, until she would inevitably collapse, and then ... Then it would be on her and it would be the end. She could hear the cracking as it was barreling through the woods on her tail. She was in the woods. The trail shone in front of her in the moonlight. The branches were whipping at her face, the tree roots raising themselves before her, trying to trip her. The forest itself was against her.
Inevitably, she tripped and fell. Twisting around on her back, she saw the dark, looming shape gaining on her and jumping onto her prone figure, the red glowing eyes and sharp canines the last sight she would have of this world ...
Billie woke up with a scream lodged in her throat. She was in her bed, in her darkened room, legs tangled in her sheets and drenched in sweat. Her heart was beating wildly and she was breathing in gulps of air like a drowning person. It had been a dream. A horrible, terrifying nightmare, but nothing more than a dream.
To calm her racing heartbeat, Billie tried mumbling the lyrics to All I Have To Do Is Dream a few times. Grampa Finstock used to sing it to her when she was a toddler, so much so that it became her favorite lullaby, and now the decades-old rhymes she'd known since childhood soothed her as her eyes darted to every shadow in the room. Everything was in shambles, as it should be. A yard-high pile of clean clothes waiting to be folded on her desk chair, 5 or 6 just-as-high piles of dirty clothes to be washed on the floor, her school supplies scattered over and under the clothing hills, one running shoe thrown on her desk, the other on her gutted school bag near the door. Utter chaos, just as she liked it.
Now that she was calmer, Billie looked at the clock. 4:53AM. The sun would rise in little more than an hour. She'd have to go for a run this morning, nothing could shake the nightmare away otherwise, and the track team meeting had been cancelled - along with every other athletic activity this weekend. Coach had insisted on it, saying he needed to take care of his kid. Billie had been thankful for it, but she desperately needed the physical exhaustion this morning. She'd take to the streets, though. No running in the woods for a while. It would only fuel her nightmares.
Picking up her laptop, Billie chose to check her email and be productive. Not going back to sleep anytime soon anyway! Might as well get busy ...
After sifting through a few spam emails and some school stuff, the girl noticed an email she'd sent herself the other day. She clicked on it, the details still fuzzy in her mind. It was that page on the Beast of Gévaudan she'd been reading. The story didn't fascinate her as much as it had at first, but the image she'd noticed the last time popped up and Billie almost shoved her laptop off the bed. That large, looming silhouette, those red glowing eyes and those terrifying fangs. It was that thing from her nightmare, it was almost exactly it. Billie's heart settled back down for a moment as she thought the picture might have inspired the bad dream, but then her mind flashed back to the math hallway, with all its windows. It had been dark, but she remembered far too well how the creature on the roof had looked. A huge animal, crouched down on all four, a black silhouette with red eyes and sharp teeth. The girl's breathing suddenly came back in halted breaths. It couldn't be right. That image was a centuries old drawing of a werewolf. Werewolves didn't exist, right? If they did, it would be known as a fact. That wasn't possible, how could she be the only one to ever have noticed some supernatural creature roaming about? Shouldn't there be tons of them? It made no sense at all!
Scratch that last thought. She wasn't the only one.
Billie yanked her cell from its charger - hard - and unlocked it with hands that shook so much it took her three tries to open her messaging app. Ignoring the missed messages she'd go over later on, she scrolled down. Lydia's message, the one Stiles sent her by accident, the blurry image she'd received. Large dark shape, red glowing eyes, huge-ass fangs ...
That was it. That was what had been after them in the school at night! Billie felt a strange sense of vindication bubbling up inside her. She'd known it had been an animal after all. It wasn't human. But why did Scott and Stiles say it was Derek Hale then? And why had Stiles wanted that picture?
Scott and Stiles. Everything orbited around these two lately, and especially around Scott. The new and amazing skills on the field, the anger issues, the secrecy ...
McCall had been involved in the attacks, he said so himself. The animal attacks. Derek Hale fit somewhere in there, but how?
Billie was beginning to shiver under her covers. She'd had a mad 'gang' vibe about McCall lately, especially about him hanging out with Derek Hale. What if it wasn't a typical kind of gang, per se? What if it was ... What was it he'd said?
"... it's stronger with a pack."
A pack.
The crappy powder blue jeep was parked in front of Coach's house. Billie was staring at it through her bedroom window, chewing her lip nervously. She wanted to go, but on the other hand, her dad had been worried sick the other night and she didn't want to add to it by going out with the boys unsupervised.
She'd shut down the insane thoughts about supernatural beings on her morning run. Once the sun had risen and after a few miles with her music blaring, it all seemed so ridiculous. Werewolves? Billie had scoffed loudly, earning an offended glare from an elderly lady walking her overweight pug. How could someone be so gullible? What next, dragons? Elves and dwarves? Godzilla? All the links she'd made in her head appeared as nothing more than the ramblings of a sleep-deprived, imaginative kid who'd just been scared half to death. She swore to herself not to skip on the offered appointment with Miss Morelle next week. Even though she wasn't Billie's favorite teacher by a long shot, Morelle was still good at counseling. Seeing monsters was not a good omen, generally speaking.
Stiles was getting out of the car. Time to take a decision.
If he rang the doorbell, Coach would open the door and see one of his Lacrosse players asking to take his daugther out. He would grill the heck out of Stilinski and the idiot would probably spill everything about their night out right from the get go. Bobby Finstock would most certainly have a coronary and she would never hear the end of it - especially because it was Stiles Spazztastic Stilinski.
If she went down and opened herself, she could just tell him her friends were picking her up, and there would be no big deal, except maybe to make sure she came back accompanied. Unless he'd been as rattled as her by the events in the school.
Billie had spent most of the last two days holed up at home, in her pyjamas and bathrobe, drinking tea and watching old rom coms. No matter what went on outside in the real world, she could always trust that Marylin Monroe and Jane Russell would sing a few inspired musical numbers and get their man, and all would be well by the time the credits rolled out. It felt safe. And Billie was desperate for anything safe right now.
Stiles was walking up the alley. Screw it, she was getting a ride back. She picked up her bag and her jacket and barreled down the stairs.
Bobby Finstock was sitting at the kitchen table, preparing her class' econ test for the next week.
"Where 'you going, Peanut?"
She turned around to him, putting on her burgundy bomber jacket and picking up her beanie from the table.
"McCall just got dumped. His mother is working a late shift and he's all alone tonight. Stilinski and I are going over to his place to cheer him up."
The scratching of his pen on his notepad stopped. He raised his eyes to her, suddenly serious.
"And what does that entail?"
She shook her messenger bag slightly.
"Well I am providing the obscure kung fu movies, and Stilinski's bringing the cookiedough-flavored ice cream and pickle-flavored chips. He's also my ride to and from Scott's house and ..."
The doorbell rang just in time.
"... And he's here to pick me up. Is that okay?"
Coach had his serious face on. He felt the tug of worry in his gut and would've gladly told his little girl that she couldn't go out tonight, nor any other night ever again for that matter.
He'd been scared half to death the other night, when Billie hadn't answered his numerous phone calls, and then when he got to the school and saw all the Sheriff's department parked outside, lights blaring ominously. For a few, heart wrenching moments, he'd been sure something dreadful had happened to his kid and that he'd never see her again. But then he'd seen her. And she had run to him. Those had been the worst few seconds of his life, and he was definitely not eager to relive any of it. He would have just loved to lock her up in her bedroom, or to put a GPS on her ankle, but he couldn't do that. Or could he?
But then again, she was responsible enough to tell him where she was going, who she was with, and to make sure to have a lift home - which he knew was more than most of the kids' parents at school could hope for. Besides, she probably needed to be with her friends to talk and vent over what had happened the other night in school, without their parents hovering over their shoulders. He sighed and nodded.
"Alright, as long as you have you cellphone on you. Call me by 11. Just to keep me posted, alright? And I want Stilinski to deliver you at the very door, not just drop you off at the street corner!"
She nodded gratefully.
"Will do, Coach!"
She quickly came back into the kitchen to peck him on the forehead before going out into the night.
Stilinski was about to begin abusing the doorbell like a madman when she opened the door. He stood there, finger poised in the air, tongue between his teeth.
"Hey Stilinski. Ready to go?"
He nodded, regaining his composure.
"Yeah. D'your dad let you out without a fight?"
She shrugged and began setting her watch alarm to 10:57, just in case.
"No bloodshed, I just have to call him later on. Let's go, before I change my mind."
He turned around and they went to his jeep.
"I see you've repaired Roscoe."
Stiles banged on the dented hood on his way to the driver's seat.
"You know my baby, indestructible."
She hopped into the passenger seat.
"And 90% made of duct tape."
She gave a strong pull on the handle and the door closed with a jerk.
"Hey hey! It's not a tank! Alright? Be gentle ..."
She just rolled her eyes. Indestructible, my ass! That car would not see the end of the year, she would bet money on it.
They met Scott at the entrance of the Reserve. He stood right in front of the parked car, the headlights beam hitting him full on before Stiles cut the engine. Billie thought she saw his eyes shining oddly for a second. Like a deer in the headlights, or some other woodland critter. But she got out of the jeep, banging the door again, chalking it up to her crazy nightmare. She had her head full of werewolf/vampire/monster crap today, and she hadn't slept nearly enough to be coherent in her thought process. Those were all very good, rational reasons for her brain to make crazy links like that. Right?
"Hey Billie, how 'you doing?"
He was obviously alluding to that night and its inevitable aftermath. She shrugged.
"I'm not gonna lie, I've been better. How are you holding up?"
He shrugged as well.
"Could be better, I guess."
Stiles finally exited the jeep.
"Alright you two, pity-party's over. Lets walk."
Scott sighed.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"Okay, we really shouldn't be here. My mom is in a constant state of freak out from what happened at the school."
"Well your mom isn't the Sheriff, okay? There's no comparison. Trust me."
Billie tried to keep her laughter quiet. As overprotective as Bobby Finstock could be, he must be a breeze to live with compared to the whole Sheriff's department breathing down Stilinski's neck!
''Can you at least tell me what we're doing out here?"
Didn't Stiles tell McCall the plan? He'd texted it all in detail to Billie hours ago!
"Yes. When your best friend gets dumped..."
"I didn't get dumped! ... We're taking a break."
Billie rolled her eyes and kept walking toward the trees. Everybody knew a break meant getting dumped in slow-motion! Even a girl who had never dated before.
"Alright. Well, when your best friend gets told by their girlfriend that they're taking a break ... You get your best friend drunk!"
Stiles had paused for dramatic effect before pulling a bottle of whiskey out of his jacket. Scott's face lit up in happy surprise and he looked back and forth between his two friends. Billie shook her head, and her bag.
"Don't look at me McCall, it was his idea. Besides, I've only got the chips and candy in here."
They reached the treeline and walked on, Scott and Billie following Stiles. The leafless branches cast crooked shadows on the ground under the moonlight. An unwelcome shiver went up Billie's spine and tickled the nape of her neck. No matter how much she rationalized, her nightmare had been in the woods at night, and being in the woods at night less than 24 hours later brought back the feeling of terror in her mind and a bit of bile in her mouth. Scott's eyes grew concerned on her left.
"Hey Finstock, you sure you're okay? You look kind of ... rattled."
She shook her head and laughed.
"Keep asking me that question and I'll rattle you, McCall!"
Billie slung her arm over Scott's shoulders and shook him left and right as he finally laughed. The trio walk into the woods, intent on forgetting all their woes for the night.
''Dude, you know, she's just one - one girl. You know there are so many ... there are so many other girls in the sea.''
Stiles was stumbling drunk already and his words were slurred to a point almost beyond comprehension. Billie giggled, sitting cross-legged in front of both boys. She handed the bottle back to Scott.
''Fish in the sea, dumbass!''
''Fish? Why're you talking 'bout fish? I'm talking about girls. I love girls. I love 'em. Especially ones with strawberry blond hair, green eyes, 5' 3'' ...''
Billie and Scott shared a look, both of them very aware of whom their friend was talking about. Scott sighed.
''Like Lydia?''
Stiles, however, was too drunk to notice his friends being slightly exasperated by his obsessive crush.
''Yeah, exactly. Hey, how did you know I was talking about ... about ... What was I talking about?''
Billie could not keep her laughter in check any longer and pointed her finger at Stiles.
"Stilinski, you're drunk!"
Billie rolled on her back as Stiles gave her an indignant glare.
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!''
Scott cut the pair off exasperatedly.
"Stiles, you're wasted. And so are you, Billie."
She sat back on her haunches and looked up at him.
"I'm pretty sure I still fall in the realm of 'tipsy', whereas Stilinski over here is three sheets to the wind!"
The shaggy-haired boy sighed again, and this time, Stiles noticed.
''Hey, you're not happy. Take a drink.''
Scott left the bottle where it sat next to the stump he was sitting on.
''I don't want any more.''
Stilinski sat up, staring at his best friend.
''You're not drunk?''
''I'm not anything.''
Billie's watch began dinging annoyingly while Scott grumbled his unhappy answer.
''Shoot, my dad! Alright you two. I'm gonna go call him over there, try not to make too much noise?''
Scott nodded silently and Stiles ignored her completely.
''Hey, maybe it's like ...''
Billie walked a little ways away into the woods and pulled out her cell. Her father answered on the third ring. He'd been asleep, that was obvious.
''Mhmmyeah? Who's it?''
Billie tired to articulate specially well, hoping her dad's sleepy daze would cover for her slight drunkenness.
''Hey dad. You wanted me to check in at 11. It's uh ... 10:58 now.''
He cleared his throat loudly.
''Oh right. Sorry Peanut, must've dozed off. Everything alright?''
''Yep, we're chill. McCall is a bit of a downer, to be honest, but that's to be expected.''
''Yeah that's ... that's none of my business, really. D'you know when you're coming home?''
''Umm ... Well, we're just about to start watching Iron Monkey. Is it okay if I come back after that one?''
Coach Finstock was very nearly falling back asleep on the other end of the phone, so he chose to cut to the chase.
''Um, sure. Is Stilinski still dropping you off?''
Stilinski! She shot a look through the trees in the general direction of her friends. Her friends who were drunk and still drinking! Especially Stiles, who was apparently the very definition of a cheap date. Just now, the reality of the stupid, bad situation she was in fell on the girl's head like a hammer. How was she going back home? She couldn't drive. Stiles could certainly not drive! Scott seemed sober enough, but he'd been drinking too. Maybe he had a stronger constitution than his friends? Still, she didn't feel comfortable getting into a moving car with someone whose breath smelled of whiskey at the wheel! Billie always felt uneasy lying to her father, but the words tumbled out of her mouth anyway.
''Yeah, of course.''
''Alright, then. D'you have your keys?''
At least she didn't have to lie about that. She pulled them out of her pocket and jingled them next to the phone.
''Yeah I do. You can go back to sleep, I'll be fine.''
''Good then, have fun with the boys, Peanut. Good night.''
''G'night dad.''
Billie took a few deep breaths after hanging up. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What the Hell were the three of them thinking?! She grumbled under her breath as she walked back to the boys.
''... I know this. I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.''
Was Stiles being philosophical? Ouch! Billie sighed. He had to be completely plastered to spew nonsense like that.
''That doesn't make any sense, Stiles.''
He looked up to her when she spoke, his eyebrows raised up to his hairline.
''No? Alright, I need a drink.''
An unknown voice interrupted the boy in his clumsy movements towards the - nearly empty - bottle.
''Well, look at the little bitches getting their drink on.''
The trio turned around. Two guys were standing nearby, staring at them. The one who'd spoken grabbed the bottle from Stiles' hands. Scott was glaring at them, while Billie stood still, her whole body going tense. This just keeps getting better and better!
''Give it back.''
The older boy, about to take a swig of their whiskey, stopped and stared at McCall.
''What's that, little man?''
His friend sniggered behind him.
''I think he wants a drink.''
Scott stood and glared at the two uninvited guests. Finstock Jr stayed a few steps behind her friends, her level of panic increasing tenfold.
''I want the bottle.''
''Scott, maybe we should just go.''
Stiles stood up with his friend, fear sobering him up nicely. He gave Billie a quick reassuring glance, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down nervously.
''You guys brought me here to get me drunk. I'm not drunk yet.''
Scott was standing toe-to-toe with the other guy, who was at least 5 inches taller.
''Give me the bottle.''
Scott was becoming downright scary. Suddenly, the young Assistant-Coach saw a boy who very well could wound a teammate to get to his goal. A boy who could hurt people. There was something in the way he stood that was asking for trouble. It was as if Scott wanted to fight with these two bozos. His voice sounded almost a full octave lower than usual when he spoke again.
''Give me the bottle of Jack.''
Even she jumped this time. She had no shame admitting it, she was scared. McCall was definitely not in his normal state, and it had nothing to do with drunkenness. Billie Finstock now rued the very moment, hours ago, when she'd decided to climb into Stilinski's beat up Jeep. The clatter of broken glass brought her back to the situation at hand. Scott had tossed - no, thrown - the bottle against a tree, where it had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The two guys were retreating into the woods, leaving the trio to their own devices.
''Okay, I'm done.''
Billie's trembling voice rang out in the awkward silence. Both boys turned to look at her.
''I ... I wanna go back home. So, I'm gonna go.''
Her unease had not ebbed at all, and her whole body broke out in unwelcome goosebumps under her sleeves.
''Yeah, okay. We can take you ...''
She cut Stiles off quickly.
''No. You ... you guys can't. You've had too much booze to drive. I'll just ... I'll just walk.''
''You're probably right, Billie. We'll walk you home.''
Scott tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off immediately.
''No. I don't mind the quiet time, actually. I'll see you boys in school.''
Before either of them could say anything else, Billie walked away.
Her walk soon turned into a jog, and even though she was wearing her heavy-soled burgundy combat boots - that were in no way proper running apparel - she ended up running back home through the empty streets of Beacon Hills. The physical exertion made her feel better, but the fact that Scott ''Puppy Eyes'' McCall had scared her out of her wits was still incredibly unsettling. If she'd had any doubt that something was seriously wrong with McCall, tonight he'd put those doubts to rest. He really was fucked up.
Billie came home not too long before the time she'd told to her dad. Hoping and praying to all the saints in heaven that her father was not asleep on the couch, she turned the key and pushed the door extremely slowly and carefully. The entrance was dark, just like the living room. With a silent sigh of relief, Billie took her boots off, which took an embarrassingly long time, if she was honest with herself. That was the clearest sign of inebriation she'd had all night long. Her fingers were clumsy and slow and her balance was wobbly at best. Walking unbearably slowly, Billie went up the stairs and tiptoed into her bedroom. As soon as she was in her own safe, messy haven, she flopped face down onto her bed. She was exhausted.
She didn't like being scared, and she never - EVER - wanted to be put in such a situation again. No way was McCall in his right mind, that was confirmed. She wondered whether it would be better to keep him on a tight leash or to give him a wide berth in the coming weeks. For her peace of mind, she hoped she could avoid him - and Stiles - for a few days, outside of practice and class. If hanging out with the two of them led her to live traumatic experiences and have terrifying nightmares and think legendary creatures were real, she could do with a little separation.
Monday morning came along way too quickly for her liking. Coach Finstock made pancakes and sat a still bleary-eyed Billie at the table to make sure she had a hearty breakfast before going to school. Billie herself had decided to spend as much time as possible getting ready - and pretty - to avoid thinking about the whole ordeal of going back to these hallways that still gave her nightmares every night.
The bright red eyeliner and lipstick she put on felt like war paint, she wore her red flowery dress and blue tights like an armor, and after a last fortifying breath, she strode into the school like she owned the damn place. No matter how insecure she might feel, she would fake it 'till she made it.
''Hey Finstock!''
She turned around and saw Lahey coming her way. For the first time ever, Billie wanted him to hug her. She wanted comfort, she wanted warmth, and seeing Isaac in his grey hoodie reminded her of how comfy and warm and safe she had felt in that hoodie. She inwardly shook herself. Lahey wasn't a cuddly Care Bear, dammit, he was her friend. So is Stiles, who you've hugged plenty of times! What's so different about hugging Isaac? Ignoring the pesky voice in her mind that liked arguing way too much, she put on her bravest 'I'm fine' face and waited for him to catch up.
''Hey, Isaac. D'you have a nice weekend?''
He seemed taken aback for a second, and she understood why as soon as he spoke again in a hurried whisper.
''What happened to you this weekend? D'you fall off the face of the Earth or something? Does it have anything to do with whatever happened here last week?''
She didn't flinch, and pretended surprise and confusion. She'd have to do the same with everyone else anyway.
''What? No, why? Do you know what happened? I heard there was some serious vandalism ...''
Isaac crossed his arms and stared her down skeptically.
''Oh? I don't know. I thought you might, what with your Assistant-Coach status ...''
Relief washed over her and she chuckled.
''Oh! No, obviously I don't. You know, police confidentiality and all that ...''
''Yeah, I'm guessing you were just too busy to answer your phone this weekend. Assistant-Coach stuff, right? Was it the swim team?''
Billie nodded, glad that he was providing her all the excuses she needed. However, Lahey began scowling.
''Bullshit, Finstock. Every sports activity was cancelled this weekend.''
Right. She'd walked straight into that one, hadn't she? More like skipped and sauntered, really. Billie stopped in front of her locker and pretended to focus on her combination lock, but the intensity with which she was staring at the numbers could have melted the metal. Lahey barreled on.
''I sent you, like, 7 texts. You never answered a single one.''
She looked up, surprised.
''You did? ... Wait, 7 messages? Why?''
With an exasperated sigh, he pulled out his old - more like ancient - flip phone and began reading them to her one by one, holding up a finger at every new text.
- Hey Finstock, is the track team still meeting Saturday morning?
- I got an email that said all athletic activities were cancelled until next week so ... ?
- I guess not, wanna go for a run? I need the practice ...
- Busy today? Maybe tomorrow then?
- Billie? Are you okay?
- Getting a little worried now ...
- I called your dad, he said you're not feeling well ... Need anything?
The blond boy waved his phone around emphatically.
''D'you know how long it takes me to type a grammatically correct sentence on this thing? Seriously, Finstock!''
Lahey's disappointed glare was almost enough to bring Billie to tears right then and there. She hadn't thought he would worry, but then again, it was Isaac. How he pretty much always knew that she wasn't really alright was baffling to her. And a bit annoying, because now her whole carefully planned facade was slipping off, and she could not afford to let that happen. With a trembling voice and her eyes still cast down, Billie answered him.
''Sorry, Isaac. I just ... Can we please not talk about this right now? My um ... my mascara's not waterproof.''
''Oh.''
He understood the implication perfectly and felt shame weighing down on his shoulders. The girl was very upset, he'd seen that easily enough - Billie always went the extra mile to look pretty when she wasn't feeling her best. Some would call it overcompensating - and all he'd managed to do was upset her even more. Well done, twit! He stuttered a quick excuse and tried to change the subject awkwardly.
''Right, so ... I guess apart from that, I had a chill weekend. I um ... yeah no, sorry. I was bored out of my mind by Saturday morning and I ended up getting ahead in the Math homework and reading my Amazing Spider-Man comics for the hundredth time. Can you believe how sad and pathetic I am?''
That brought a chuckle out of her. She finally opened her locker and quickly glanced at her magnetic mirror inside the door. Still picture perfect. Phew!
''Well at least you were being mildly productive. All I did was re-watch a bunch of old movies and stew in the bath until the bubbles had gone away and my fingers were all wrinkled.''
He laughed as she pulled out her books and binder and closed the locker again.
''Bubble bath? What are you, five?''
She swatted him on the arm.
''I'll bet it was pink and bubblegum scented too.''
Isaac kept making good fun of her, seeing the eye-roll and smirk she wore now as far better than the big tear-filled eyes and trembling jaw from a few minutes ago. Billie was much prettier when she smiled. Wait, what? Oh nevermind! Isaac's own mind let go of the matter in an instant. She was pretty, and that was that. No need to have a panic attack over it!
''Peach-scented, if you must know. I hate the fake bubblegum scent. It's waayyy too much for my delicate nose!''
''Pffft! Your delicate nose!''
He snorted and she pulled her tongue out at him as they headed into class for the Chemistry test.
The test hadn't even started ten minutes ago, yet there was already drama in the air. Scott, sitting to Billie's right, had begun breathing hard and fidgeting in his seat. Billie had trouble concentrating on her paper, but she forced her eyes to stay on question #4. That is, until McCall shot up from his desk and ran out of the room like his chair was on fire! Sure enough, Stiles followed him a second later, Mr Harris calling to them with no consequence at all.
Billie knew he'd been dumped and that it had hit him like a ton of bricks, but his reaction was a bit much. Wasn't it? She tried to turn her mind back to the test, but it took her a good ten minutes to put McCall and his love tribulations out of her mind. As scary as he'd been the other night, Billie felt nothing but pity and worry for him at the moment. Heartbreak was a bitch. She should know ... Not now, not now, dammit! Before she could keep her mind from wandering to any painful place, her eyes were getting misty again and she sniffed once or twice - okay, maybe more than that - to keep any unwanted tears in.
Miraculously, a tissue materialized on the edge of her desk. Looking up, Billie only saw Lydia Martin's arm retreating back. The redhead didn't even look her way, but Billie felt grateful for it. Lydia didn't ask questions. She didn't let herself get sidetracked by someone else's drama - or everything else they'd been through lately. Because she had been there too. Lydia Martin just focused. Dabbing at her eyes discreetly, Billie took a deep breath and stared down the test sheet.
Grades first, drama later.
On their way out of the class, Isaac practically ran after her.
''That wasn't as much of a bloodbath as I'd thought ...''
As relieved as Lahey sounded when he'd said it, the word bloodbath made Billie's own blood run cold in her veins. She slowed her walk and her whole body tensed, but this time Lahey stayed blissfully unaware of her reaction.
''I mean, it wasn't easy by a long shot, but ... You know Harris has a reputation, and his tests are supposed to be hell in paper form! I thought I'd get the test sheet and read, like, a weird foreign language or something ...''
Billie hmmed, only listening to half of what her friend said as they walked down the hallway. Down the well-lit, crowded hallway, in the middle of the day, where she had nothing to fear. Deep breaths, Finstock, deep breaths ...
''... but I actually had a pretty good grasp on everything. Sure, there's a few questions that gave me cold sweats, but not half as bad as it usually is ...''
They went down the stairs to the ground floor. Billie kept clutching her school bag straps tightly in her hands. This was going to be a long day if she was going to be on the verge of a panic attack every time she had to walk between classes.
'' ... so I guess I wanna say ... Well, thanks for the tutoring, Finstock. I couldn't have made it through this test without your help.''
Billie's head turned to stare at Isaac's looming form on her left as he raised an arm to scratch the back of his neck nervously. He was blushing - adorably so. She smiled. Scott McCall wasn't the only boy in school who had the puppy-eyed look down, apparently!
''Oh, it's nothing, really. I'm glad I could help.''
''We're still studying this week, right? When are you free?''
''Thursday should be good. Oh, don't forget the quarter finals on Wednesday night. Those games are usually pretty rough, you might get called on the field to replace an injured player!''
Isaac chuckled, but there was definitely a slight worry in his light blue eyes.
''Well that's not reassuring at all! Also ... Um, I wanted ...''
He took a deep breath and forged ahead. He'd made up his mind about it during the test, he was not going to back out now.
''I wanna take you out, I mean ... as thanks for helping me out in Chem like you do.''
''Oh.''
That was all she could muster, the surprise of this unexpected invitation smacking her silly. Isaac rambled on.
''Pizza, burgers, my treat. You could say that business has been good at the graveyard. So ... what do you say?''
Billie's mouth quirked up in a wide smile without her say-so, and she found herself nodding.
''Yeah, sounds great! We can iron out the specifics on Thursday, alright?''
He smiled as widely as she had, and nodded energetically.
''Fine by me.''
''Alright, I gotta go see Coach about some line-up problems. See ya, Isaac!''
''Bye Billie!''
They had just reached Coach's office and Billie almost sauntered through the open door.
Her dad didn't look up from his roster, but grunted in annoyance.
''Can you believe it? A pink-eye epidemic! I swear, these twits will be the end of me!''
Billie giggled and hurriedly tried to cover her girlish outburst with a cough. She wasn't sure she wanted to share the news of Isaac's invitation with her dad just yet. Of course she'd have to tell him before the 'going out' happened, but maybe not right now? She hadn't had any time to wrap her own mind around it yet. And they had a Lacrosse crisis on their hands.
Sports first, drama later.
''Pink-eye? Jeezus, what are they, eleven? So how many do we have to bench for congenital stupidity, Coach?''
Coach mumbled for a few more seconds.
''At least three first-liners. The other two we don't need to replace as urgently - especially not Greenberg. Can't believe they're doing this to me, right before the quarter-finals!''
Billie played along.
''Yeah, what a bunch of ungrateful children!''
''You can say that again, kid.''
Coach looked up with a resigned sigh.
''Alright Peanut, pull out your stats. Tell me who we can promote to first-line.''
Billie pulled her 'Official Assistant-Coach Top-Secret Binder' - as Coach had jokingly called it - from her bag and began thinking aloud.
''Rodrigez is my first choice. He's got the stats and he's been on the team long enough to know how to play along with the other first-liners. As for the other two ... What d'you think about Evan Taylor?''
''The Junior who transferred last semester?''
She nodded and Coach thought about his player.
''Decent, I guess. His aim isn't the best, but he can pass. Might be good to have him on the field. God knows there's no shortage of ego on first line!''
''His stats are pretty good too. Not as good as those he'd be playing with, but I don't think he'll be too overwhelmed.''
Coach nodded his assent and wrote down the names on his pad.
''Good. Two out of three. Anyone else stand out? Your friend Lahey, maybe?''
Billie fought the deep blush that came to her face when her dad spoke. She pretended to frown over his stat sheet. His numbers were fairly good, even though he'd yet to play a single minute in a real game. He had the potential, but he was too new on the team. He still struggled to remember the Lacrosse rules on his own. She couldn't put him on the field now.
''Lahey? Not sure ... His stats are good, but he hasn't had any time to improve his cardio.''
Coach was staring at his daughter skeptically, waiting for her to go on. He knew there was something going on between his little Peanut and the tall boy, more than just studying. He'd been a teenager too, some time ago, he could recognize the signs on his daughter - no matter how unwelcome these felt to him. For goodness' sake, the boy had called Coach's cell phone to check up on Billie this weekend!
''I don't think he's ready for first line just yet. It's no use putting him up there if he can't follow the other players. He'll only slow the team down. Let me check ...''
She felt wretched for probably benching Isaac for the rest of the season, but he wasn't ready yet. She rifled through her papers a bit, trying to find that pesky composure of hers that had momentarily run away. Losing herself in the numbers for almost a full minute, she perked up at the sight of someone else's decent stats sheet.
''Stiles maybe?''
''Stiles? The Stilinski kid? Are you serious Peanut?''
She reviewed the numbers as she spoke.
''Actually, I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah. His aim is okay, he's not the fastest on his sticks but he can keep up with the others ... And he's McCall's best friend, he trains with him all the time outside of practice. These two are a good team together. If he can play wing-man for our new MVP, why the heck not?''
Coach thought about it for a moment, then he shrugged and scribbled the third name on his roster.
''To hell with it, you're right. Let's try him.''
Billie pumped her fist in the air happily. She might have benched Isaac, but at least she'd done right by another friend. Her dad wasn't done with the team prep meeting, however.
''What d'you think about McCall?''
Billie was taken aback, she'd had that discussion with Bobby Finstock before.
''What d'you mean, Dad?''
''As a player, as a team member, as a leader? I wanna know if the other players would follow him. If he could call the shots in a game.''
Billie eyed her father suspiciously.
''Isn't that Whittemore's job, as team captain?''
''Well yeah, but ... I don't know. Jackson's had a bit of a rough patch lately. His aim's a bit off kilter too, after that shoulder incident the other week. McCall's more of a team player, generally speaking. Lacks a bit of aggressiveness, but then again Jackson's got more than enough for the both of them!''
''Okay, so what are you thinking, exactly?''
Her dad sat up straight in his chair and stared at her seriously.
''I want to make McCall co-captain. I think the two of them would ... balance each other out, if you will.''
''Or rip each other apart. Dad, I'm not sure that's such a great idea ...''
Billie had a sudden flashback of Scott's eyes when they were in the woods. They'd been so animal, so soulless. Almost like the description of a shark's stare in Jaws. The boy had been more than aggressive back then. He'd been unhinged. What if that boy came out on the field? What if he injured another player again?
''Come on, Peanut! Where's your sense of adventure? Let's take a risk! Plus, if we change the first line's line up today, it might be good to have a co-captain to help the newbies get ... integrated, don't you think?''
Billie's gut feeling was anything but favorable, but as long as she didn't have any concrete reason to shoot down Scotty, she could not act on it. Coach would need something more than just a wobbly gut-feeling to bench his most promising recruit. She sighed and nodded.
''I guess if you want to try it so badly ... I still think it's too early to set him up like that, but whatever.''
Coach grinned victoriously.
''Atta girl!''
The team was assembling in the locker room, awaiting their Coach and his instructions. Billie saw Stiles and Scott sitting down on a bench, slowly putting on their gear. She could not repress the smile that had been fighting its way to her face for half a day now. Not only was her father asking for her opinion - seriously - and now relying on her carefully built stats, but she had just put one of her best friends on first line, and the other was being named co-captain! No matter her reservations now, Billie Finstock was ecstatic. She wanted to strut around the lockers like a proud peacock or some other, equally fancy animal. She especially couldn't wait to see Whittemore's annoying face when he'd hear the news. That would knock him down a peg or ten!
Coach walked in with his pad in hand, and she stood next to him, shoulders back and still smiling. He nodded to her and she blew a shrill whistle. Coach then began his pre-practice speech.
''Alright geniuses, listen up.''
The players all clustered around them.
''Due to the recent pink eye epidemic - thank you, Greenberg - the following people have made first line on a probationary basis. Emphasis on the word PRO-BATIONARY.''
The tension had suddenly risen in the locker room and everyone was fidgeting as Coach began reading from his pad.
''Rodrigez! Welcome to first line.''
The round faced boy was quietly congratulated as Coach went on.
''Taylor! And uhh ...''
Billie was eyeing Stilinski from the side and she had to hide behind her own pad to keep herself from laughing out loud. Poor boy was half sitting, half standing, tense as a piano string, his eyes wild. It didn't help one bit that Bobby Finstock was extending the suspense beyond the reasonable.
''Oh, for the love of crap! I can't even read my own writing! What ... What is that, an S?"
Billie glanced at the paper he was showing her and nodded to her father, who completely ignored her.
''No no, that's not an S, that's a ... that's a ... That's a B. That's a B! It's definietly a B. Uh Rodrigez, Taylor, and uhh, Bilinski."
Stiles, whose face had already begun falling into disappointment, lit up into incredulous joy. He stood up and began hollering and making ninja moves in the air. Billie could not contain her wide grin anymore, even when Danny's eyeroll ended on her face.
''Seriously? Mega-dork just made first line?"
She tried for an innocent shrug - and admittedly failed.
''Coach's decision."
Speaking of Coach, he'd just told Stiles to shut up after one too many happy exclamation.
"Another thing. From here on out, immediately, we're switching to co-captains. Congratulations McCall!"
Billie barely noticed Scott's deer-in-the-headlights look, she was too busy enjoying the crap out of Whittemore's look of abject betrayal. That'll teach him!
"What?"
Finstock barely turned to his former star-player, already launching into motivational speech mode.
"What d'you mean, what? Jackson this takes nothing away from is about ... combining separate strengths into one unit. This is about taking your unit, McCall's unit. We're making one big ... unit. McCall, it's you and Jackson now. Everybody else ..."
Coach nodded to Billie again, and she took one second to react before whistling again once.
"... asses on the field. Asses on the field!"
"Crap, my binder! Be back in a minute, Coach!"
Billie was running back trough the hallway to the locker rooms. How could she forget it, now that it served her so well? Grumbling about her own head being screwed on in reverse, Billie never looked up until she opened the door to her dad's office. Which was not as empty as she'd thought.
"Wooaah children!"
The exclamation escaped her. Lydia and Scott separated immediately at the sound of her voice. Neither looked particularly ashamed of their conduct. Billie, however, was livid. She could not even look at the redhead as she spoke.
"Lydia, you shouldn't be here."
The girl turned around and escaped what was sure to be an epic screaming match. Scott, with more defiance than she'd ever seen in him, tried to shoulder his way back to the locker room, but Billie wasn't done with him by a long shot. She grabbed him by the shirt and roughly pushed him back into the closed office.
"Not so fast, Buckaroo."
Scott stood there, tense and looking at the assistant coach from under his brow. He looked ready to pick a fight again. But Billie Finstock was far from easy to intimidate. Not today.
"I can understand a lot of things. I can understand the anger management issues, I can understand the added stress of making first line, and then being named co-captain along with freaking Jackass Whittemore, or the way you acted the other night, with some psycho killer hell bent on skinning you, inside the school with us. I can even understand how that first love is jumbling your heart and your brain. But I cannot and will not be understanding of you messing around behind your best friend's back with another guy's girlfriend. Just because things aren't going the way you want them to with your own girlfriend or ... ex or whatever it is you two are this week! Stiles, your oldest and best friend Stiles, he doesn't deserve that crap you're pulling right now, but you're still dragging him face first in it without a second thought. When did you get this selfish? Scott, this isn't you ..."
The concerned, motherly tone underneath her anger got to him, somehow. His anger seemed to ebb away and was replaced by a mixture of shame and pain and regret.
"It's the full moon ..."
She heard his soft whisper and looked at his hunched shoulders. In the back of her brain, she registered that he was blaming the freaking full moon for his issues, but she didn't even stop to take a breath between both halves of her angry monologue.
"I don't care if it's the alignment of the whole solar system or the World Series, McCall. There is no excuse for behaving like you do and hurting the people who are closest to you ..."
Scott shook her hand off his shoulder and nodded absently.
"Right ..."
It sounded more like a defeated sigh than anything else, but there was no time to dawdle any longer.
"Come on, your teammates are waiting, co-captain McCall."