Chapter 6: (Bitter)sweet Revenge

The weekend slipped by and then next thing they knew Monday morning came again bright and early to the scent of buttery pancakes and sizzling sausage. The girls shuffled into the kitchen, their eyes still heavy with sleep, well, the lack of sleep. Throughout the weekend they managed to accumulate at least ten hours of sleep over the two day period but it was worth it to them. Their sleepovers were cherished monthly traditions. No matter what happened, they always ended up regretting staying up so late over the weekend but then they would go ahead and do it again because it was the only time they could actually be together now.

The further they progressed in school the busier they became. Well, the busier Melanie became. She helped in her mom's shop odd afternoons, she swam and was on the lacrosse team, she played the piano, she was a lifeguard, she was on the yearbook staff, she was in the school orchestra, she sang. She did this and this and this. And while that was going on Erica would either stay in her room waiting for Melanie to call for their nightly chats or she would have a doctor's appointment to take up the time. Either way she was always waiting on her or waiting for something. It didn't bother her, it was how things always had been, but she just didn't notice it until now.

Erica waited to be picked up for school or dropped off because she couldn't drive. She waited for a meeting to be let out to have five minutes between classes to chat about some piece of gossip she had heard. She waited to be acknowledged by someone who had hit her with their backpack but that one never came. It was as if she were invisible. And what kind of life was that? Having to constantly rely on someone wasn't her idea of living life and she had three people she needed to rely on: her mother, her doctor, her best friend. The day she would be able to stand on her own two feet would be the taste she could finally taste freedom.

But for now she didn't mind getting to hear the ways that Melanie was going to get revenge on Jackson and Stiles.

"Are you sure your shoulder's okay?" Erica asked as they entered the school building.

Melanie groaned long and loud, tilting her head back in the process. Jackson, who just so happened to walk by at the exchange, gave her an odd look. "Trying to call for a mate, Crowe?" he asked, his usual smug smile appearing on his face. "You won't attract anyone with that bellowing, sad to say."

"It made you stop, didn't it? What does that say about you?" she shot back almost without a second thought. The words came out of her mouth with ease, almost as if she were having a conversation about the weather. Looking up she spotted him glaring at her and she happily waved back, continuing down the hall.

"He looked as if he wanted to kill you," Erica commented as they approached Melanie's locker.

"Yeah, I'd like to see him try anymore than he already has," she replied, tossing her lacrosse stick in. She was going to get her official practice jersey and game jersey that day. Number 16. She couldn't wait to get her hands on it. "Besides, he'd hear it from Lydia if he ever really beat me up. As cocky as he is, the boy's whipped."

As she pulled books out of her locker she felt Erica nudging her shoulder. Melanie regarded her, noting Erica's wide shifting eyes and the clearing of her throat. Was Jackson behind her? Monday's were hell to deal with, she didn't want him on her ass too all because she couldn't quit while she was ahead. Instead when she whirled around she came face to face with Isaac. Well, face to chest. She had to take a step backwards and tilt her head back to properly look at this face.

"Hey Isaac," she greeted him with a bright smile and wave. She snapped her fingers and tugged her backpack around to the front so she could dig in it. "I have your clothes here…somewhere…" she murmured, moving her hand around. "Ah! Here ya go!" she wiggled the shirt and pats out from the space her open zipper allowed. "It's all here, freshly washed and dried. Thanks again for helping out."

"You're welcome, no big deal," he replied. He accepted his clothes and opened his own backpack. After shoving them in, he then pulled hers out and handed them to her. "They're washed and dried too." She accepted them and shoved them into her backpack. "So…I'll see you in French, then."

Melanie nodded. "Sure. See you later." The bell rang, signaling for the students to head off to home room. Melanie waved as Erica looped her arm through hers and then two walked off down the hall.

"Hmm, he's cute," she noted, glancing over her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Melanie hummed, lifting her bag higher on her shoulder. She glanced back and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Okay, let's get to class. 'M not in the mood to see Stiles yet. And I may be arrested for murder if I do."

"Geeze, if you're this annoyed I can't imagine how Allison feels."

Melanie rolled her eyes. Even when Scott wasn't involved Allison still found a way to come up. It was beginning to get annoying.

The day moved by in a slow, uneventful manner and the next thing Melanie knew she was gearing up for lacrosse practice. Her first official team practice. She had to stop in Coach Finstock's office to get her jersey, which meant she had to pass through the boy's locker room to get there. Well she didn't have to but going the long way around just to get her jersey was a bit ridiculous and when else would she have a good excuse to see a bunch of half naked boys? She was only human. A human that was going to enjoy herself.

She grabbed the handle of the locker room door before she could change her mind and pumped it, only to be slapped in the face by the very distinct smell of boy sweat and grass. Blinking rapidly to keep tears away, she regained her composure and walked past the group of lockers, keeping her eyes on the door of Finstock's office…which didn't last too long as boys milled about in different levels of undress, of which she couldn't help but admire.

Their realization that a girl was in the locker room fluttered across them like a wave and soon they were whistling at her and asking if she enjoyed the view. She smirked. Of course she did, she wasn't blind, but there was no reason to stroke their already large egos.

"Heyy," Stiles drew out his greeting as he stepped in front of Melanie who crossed her arms. "There's my favorite girl. My favorite girl who can't stay mad at me. Did you do something different to your hair? It looks great! Very…washed!"

Melanie pursed her lips. "Unless this rambling leads to an apology for ditching me, you can stop talking right now," she told him.

"It does! It does! But, uh, wait a second…I have…something…" Stiles dug around in his bag which dangled off his shoulder. Melanie watched his frantic movements for a few seconds until he withdraw a large candy bar. Her eyes widened but then she caught herself and replaced her expression with one of indifference despite drool threatening to run down her chin. "Ah! There we go! It's a Hershey bar!" he waved it around as if she couldn't see the chocolate if he held it still. "But not just any Hershey bar! A one pound Hershey bar! So? Is Stiles forgiven?"

"Why is Stiles talking in third person?" Melanie demanded, her eyes on the candy.

"Because Stiles doesn't want to die," he replied.

"So you think that you can buy my forgiveness with a bar of chocolate?" she asked, keeping her tone even. "You think I'm that cheap?" His face faltered and a look of horror appeared in his maple colored eyes. He began to stammer an apology but she smiled and snatched the candy bar out of his hand. "Lucky for you, you can," she said and unwrapped a corner of it, taking a bite. "I'm a cheap bitch, honestly," she added. She stuck her tongue out to catch any chocolate that had missed her mouth.

"So you forgive me?" he breathed.

"You're forgiven," she said while nodding. "What was wrong with Scott, anyway?"

He faltered. "What?"

"What was wrong with Scott? You said it was some kind of emergency. Must've been pretty big if he left Allison alone. He was really looking forward to that date, right?"

"Yeah, it was kinda…big…" his words died off as his eyes narrowed into a squint. Melanie's eyes shifted under his gaze and she widened her eyes, silently asking why he was looking at her like that. "Your eyes are green," he stated, answering her unasked question

That wasn't the answer she wanted. "Shut up, Piles," she mumbled, making a face. And she was sure she read somewhere that that was an actual thing but she didn't press it.

"And will you stop calling me Piles?"

"No; it gets on your nerves so it's funny." She affectionately tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. "Besides, I'm not…jealous or anything. I never liked Scott, not really. I liked that he was nice to me gave me his cupcake. If you gave me your chocolate cupcake instead of laughing about me dropping mine I would've liked you too. I told you I'm cheap." She patted his shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she continued, "I have a jersey to pick up."

He mumbled a goodbye and she slipped past him and entered Coach's office. She knocked on the door frame and waited for him to look up from his paperwork. His eyes immediately jumped down to the candy bar in her hand and he sighed heavily.

"Oh, for the love of…Crowe, am I going to have to worry about you crying in the middle of the field?" Coach demanded.

Melanie scoffed, feeling the sting of his offending comment. "I'm not on my period, Coach," she stated, watching him flinch at the word, "and even if I was I get angry, not sad."

"Good. Because I don't want another Greenberg on the field. All because he broke his finger. It was pathetic. Never seen that many tears since a sprinkler broke."

"Can I just have my jersey please?"

Coach stood and moved to the other side of the room. He yanked open a drawer and rifled through it until he pulled out three jerseys: one red practice jersey, one white practice jersey, and one red playing jersey. Bundling them all up he tossed them to her. Her face split into an exuberant smile as she ran her fingers across the numbers on it and then her name on the back. Holding the porous fabric in her hands, it finally hit her. She made the team.

"What, are you gonna hug me now? Get changed and get out there!" Coach barked.

"Yes sir!" Melanie happily replied, throwing in a salute for good measure. She practically floated all the way to the girl's locker room and was on Cloud 9 when she exited to get to the field. Nothing could touch her. Sunshine practically poured out of every orifice in her body. She didn't even mind that they had to deal with a brutal warm up session before they took the field for one-on-ones.

Danny stood in goal and Jackson, with a long stick, acted as a defender that they had to get past. His steel-eyed stare could be seen through the cage on his helmet. He wasn't messing around, not with their first game being that Saturday. Everyone was pumped up for it. Word around the halls was that it was going to be a big turnout. They would need all the support they could get.

Jackson was on fire at practice that day, Melanie had to admit. He knocked around anyone that got in his way or tried to score on him. Danny appeared to be getting bored in goal, not having anyone effectively try to take a shot on him. The line dwindled down as each player tried and failed to make a shot, which tore Coach down the middle. He shouted support for Jackson's force but then shouted at everyone else for not getting past him.

Then it was Scott's turn. Standing in between him and Stiles, Melanie licked her lips as Coach yelled for her, seemingly snapping him out of a daydream he was having. "Good luck," she whispered, hoping he could hear her encouragement. She could feel tension between him and Jackson before the whistle even blew for him to start running. She tugged at her collar. It made it hard for her to breathe. She held her breath as she watched Scott charge for Jackson…only to have Jackson knock him off his feet.

"Damn," Stiles whispered behind her. Damn was right. Melanie's fingers tightened against her stick as Coach began to berate him in front of everyone, comparing him to his dead grandmother. She shook her head. That was uncalled for. And Jackson seemed to be enjoying the moment, with how big his smirk was.

"McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!" Coach taunted as Scott ran back to the front of the line.

"Er…Scott? You okay?" Melanie asked, noting his now stiff posture.

"I'm fine," he responded, his voice gruffer than she had ever heard it.

The whistle blew again and Scott charged. Jackson ran to meet him and, surprisingly, Scott bowled him over. Jackson flew off his feet and landed hard on the ground, grasping his shoulder. Behind him, Scott fell to his knees, holding his head. The team broke formation and ran to Jackson's side; Stiles ran past them all and went for Scott.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Coach uttered in rapid succession as they gathered around Jackson as he rolled around on the ground, still clutching his arm. Melanie yanked off her helmet and stared down at him, his face scrunched up in pain. The sight made her uncomfortable. In the years that she had known Jackson he had never showed weakness, no matter how injured he was.

Scott! Tearing her eyes away, Melanie lifted her head and searched the field for him. Her eyebrows lowered and her eyes narrowed when she spotted him and Stiles running away from the field, crouched low.

"Where are they going?" Isaac asked her.

She shook her head. "Maybe he pissed himself in excitement from knocking Jackson over," she offered up. "I would have." Isaac laughed and then changed it to a cough when he caught Jackson glaring at him from the grass. Her attention had started to turn back to Jackson when something caught her eye.

Someone was standing off in the distance by the opposing bleachers. Someone in a black leather jacket and white t-shirt. Her head tilted as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She had seen him somewhere before, but where…? The realization hit her with a jolt. Lydia's party! He drove Allison home. She continued peering at him and noticed that his gaze wasn't on their fallen team-member but something else. Melanie looked over her shoulder. Scott and Stiles were small dots in the distance as they ran towards the school. Melanie looked forward again and blinked.

The man was gone.

# # #

Melanie didn't have long to think about how weird Scott and Stiles were being or even that man that she saw on the fields. Come Wednesday she had another matter to worry about. She knew something was off when she set foot in school that morning. As soon as she lowered her headphones from her ears she noticed the whispers firing off around her rapidly as she walked towards her locker.

She checked her hair for flyaways, rubbed a finger against her teeth to cheek for food, checked her shirt for stains, and then started spinning around on the spot to check if her time of month had come earlier than she expected. Nope, her ass was clear. So what in the world could have happened that she suddenly had the attention of people who didn't know she existed before?

"Trying to chase your tail?" Allison commented, coming in through the door behind her. Lydia's eyes flickered up to the ceiling and she pursed her lips as she stood by.

"You could say that," Melanie replied, holding out her arms to keep her balance. "People are being weird; I wanted to check that I wasn't seeing red."

"That's why you wear black on those days," Lydia sighed, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not only is it slimming but good coordination can be a…good surprise," she continued, directing the last part of her sentence to Jackson who had walked by in that moment. Lydia grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled her lips down to his. Melanie made a face and turned away while Allison looked down to avoid the display of affection.

"Mmm, don't tease me," Jackson muttered as soon as he pulled away.

"Oh, but I know how much you love to be teased," Lydia cooed.

Melanie and Allison exchanged a look. As much as she wasn't too fond of the new girl she did appreciate that they had something in common besides French class—that they couldn't stomach Lydia's and Jackson's affection towards one another, especially when it crossed a line.

"So, uh, Jackson. How's your shoulder?" Melanie asked, changing the subject.

All traces of human emotion that had once occupied his face dropped at her question and a mask appeared in its place. He snorted, wrapping an arm around Lydia's shoulders. "How do you think my shoulder is, Crowe?" he asked. "And why d'you care?"

"Uhhh, I'm your teammate? I was just checking—"

"Checking that I could play or else McCall takes over? Yeah. Fat chance." He dropped his arm from Lydia's shoulders and stepped closer to Melanie, towering over her. He jabbed at her chest with his finger. "I'm playing in that game. And you can let McCall know that I'm playing." With one final push to her shoulder he turned away and walked off with Lydia.

"Okay, I think he broke my sternum," Melanie mumbled, rubbing her chest. "I just don't get it. Why would Lydia date someone like him?"

Allison shrugged. "Maybe she sees something we don't."

"She must have x-ray vision, then. So what's up? Why aren't you trotting after them?"

Allison tucked her hair behind her ear and rubbed her lips together. "Well, my French partner isn't here today. I was thinking maybe during class I could sit with you?"

"Ah – sure, why not?" Melanie replied. She needed to keep Scott on her good side if she was going to get any sort of answer out of him about why he's been acting weird lately, and being unnecessarily rude to Allison wasn't going to help her with that. "So what country are you reporting on?"

"Italy," Allison replied. "We're going to focus our project on its art and architecture. What about you? You and Isaac have Greece, right?"

"Yup," Melanie said, popping her 'p'. "I think we lucked out, Greece has a lot of history and mythology to boot. So we're going to do a report on some of the mythology and how it influenced current stories and religion and stuff." They walked into the library and waved to Ms. Morrell to let them know they were there so they couldn't be counted as absent. They sat down at a table and took out their books. "I wanted to act something out but I think that would've given Isaac a heart attack," she continued, flipping open a notebook. "So I get to spend my French class looking at naked people instead. It's a good trade, I think."

Dimples appeared in Allison's cheeks as she grinned but they quickly faded at a harsh whisper that reached both their ears, "Not the first people you've seen naked, not the last." She pressed her lips together and avoided the confused expression on Melanie's face as she whirled around to see who it was that spoke.

"Hey, uh, why don't you tell me a story about Zeus?" Allison asked, pointing at a book with her pen.

Melanie turned her suspicious look to Allison. It slowly faded as she pulled her eyes down to her notebook. "Well, he rules the Olympians and Mount Olympus. He is the god of sky and thunder in Greek Mythology. He's usually married to Hera and according to some sources he is the father of Aphrodite—which makes sense in retrospect. He's widely known for his erotic escapades—"

The whisper came again, "She would know all about that."

Melanie stopped her reading and looked around again. No one looked her in the eye; they turned away as soon as she came into eye contact with someone. When she turned back around in her seat Allison was biting on the end of her pen.

"Okay, what do you know?" Melanie demanded.

"I don't know anything," Allison replied.

"Allison," she said sternly.

Allison sighed. "Look, it's just…I-I don't think you want to see it," she said.

"See what?" Melanie demanded.

"D…Don't you have your phone?"

"It got busted when I fell into Lydia's pool—just tell me what you're talking about," Melanie said, holding up her hand to stop Allison from changing subjects. She was on alert now. She hadn't imaged the whispers and the pointing. And if it wasn't anything on her end that had to mean it was something else. Something out of her control. She sucked in a breath.

"Okay…but I tried to warn you," she said. She removed her phone from her pocket, tapped around with her thumb, and then held it out for Melanie to take.

Melanie grasped the phone and tapped it to brighten up the screen and then her stomach dropped. It was a picture attached in a text message of her and Isaac from a few days before, exchanging clothes. The comment beneath the picture made her heart ram in her chest: LACROSSE WHORE. CHEAP. ACCEPTS CHOCOLATE FOR SERVICES. Everything inside her came crashing down. She felt a prick behind her eyes and pressure building up in her nose. But she lifted her chin, cleared her throat, and said, "Some people have too much time on their hands," and handed the phone back.

"Are you…okay?" Allison asked slowly.

"Yeah," Melanie replied. "It's just idiots trying to start something because they're bored. No big deal. Besides," a slow smile appeared on her face, "they could've used a cuter picture of me." Allison's dimples deepened as she laughed.

When Isaac sat down next to her for them to continue work on their project she kept her words and her face light amidst the whispering going on behind her back. After the class ended and she was put at the mercy of the other students in her school she kept her head high and did her best to ignore the comments and the hissing but their words were barbed. They struck her time and time again and embedded themselves in her skin until they burned.

But still she tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the points and the whispers and the stares and the ringing phones. Stiles and Scott came up to her, to ask how she was doing but she remained cheerful and shifted the conversation over to the game they were going to play on the weekend. Apparently all of their parents were going to make it out to watch them play. The turnout was going to be big.

But even that news didn't stop the lurking monster from getting to her, from jumping out of nowhere by pelting her back with Hershey kisses. Palms slapping against one another sounded like gunshots as two boys guffawed at their joke. Looking them in the eye, Melanie picked one off the floor, removed the foil, and popped it into her mouth and then she thanked them for her snack.

During Algebra class Erica passed her a note, asking if she was okay but Melanie ignored it. Of course she was okay. Couldn't she see the smile on her face or the lilt in her voice? Couldn't Erica see that she was doing fine ignore it all? Couldn't she see that she was perfectly fine?

But the lump in the pit of her stomach sat heavy like a rock. It bounced around her insides and made its presence known despite how hard she tried to ignore it pressing on her nerves. The pressure increased the longer the school day went on. Allison would give her pitying looks from time to time, as if she were trying to apologize for everything that was going on, which only made her annoyed, as much as she tried not to let on.

Finally she caught a break. She could breathe once the school bell rang and classes ended for that day. She swapped out her books for homework that night and told Erica that she would see her later before going to the locker room for practice.

It was empty by the time she got in, the trailing voices of the female soccer players faded once the door closed. Heaving a large, cleansing sigh Melanie went to her assigned locker and spun the dial on her combination lock. Each correct number made a clicking sound and then she yanked down on the lock to removed it. Shoving it in the mesh side pocket of her backpack, she wrenched open her locker door.

"What the hell!?" she uttered, feeling a cascade of Hershey kisses rain down atop of her head. Lifting her hands, she blocked the flow of candy as best as she could. They bounced off her palm and scattered across the floor around her feet and beneath the wooden bench between the two rows of lockers. Finally the candy stopped falling and any previous noise was replaced by deafening, still silence.

Melanie pushed her bangs out of her face and looked at the silvery candy that littered the floor and pooled around her feet. The prick behind her eyes came back, much stronger than before. Pressure built behind her nose and no matter how hard she clenched her teeth her lower lip began to tremble.

"Fuck!" she yelled, slamming her lacrosse stick against the lockers. The loud clang echoed in the empty room. Yelling again, she threw down her stick and then her backpack followed suit. A dam behind her eyes broke and tears poured down her face. Her breaths came out thick and heavy and her face burned from her efforts to keep everything inside. But that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Pressing her back against the cool wall of lockers, her legs gave way until she sat on the dirty floor, head in her arms, her body wracking with unrestrained sobs. She was crying so hard that she didn't hear the door to the locker room open or someone approach until she felt a presence next to her.

"Are you okay?" Erica asked softly.

"What do you think?" Melanie wailed, lifting her head. "People think I slept with Stiles and Isaac and they think I was paid for it in chocolate and they think that I slept my way onto the team!"

Erica shoved her had in her purse and pulled out a package of tissues. She pulled one out and held it up to Melanie's nose. "Blow," she instructed. Melanie blew her nose into the tissue and Erica pinched it, sealing the mucus inside.

"What are you still doing here? I thought your mom was taking you home," Melanie mumbled, wiping her eyes with her sleeves, her sentence peppered with paused due to her intake of breath.

"I knew you'd need me sooner or later," Erica replied. "And I may have detention."

"What for?" Melanie asked.

Erica gave a bashful smile and replied, "I may have tried to beat Jackson up for some comments he was making."

"You tired to beat up Jackson?" Erica nodded. "Jackson?" She nodded again. "Jackson Whittemore."

"He can't just say shit about my best friend," Erica said, reaching out and brushing hair off of Melanie's face. "That's not okay."

"What are you going to do? Beat up the entire school?"

"I can try, but I know something better that will work."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Show them up," Erica stated. Melanie blinked. That was it? That was all she had to say about the matter. Erica nodded her head, as if reading Melanie's mind. "They think you slept around to get on the team, show them how hard you worked out on that field today. Show them how hard you worked tomorrow. Show them how hard you worked by being a key member to the team. Coach Finstock put on on it for a reason, right? Show. Them. Why," she said, tapping Melanie's nose with her finger with each word. "You went against all the naysayers before. Do it again. Be the Melanie that I admire."

Tilting her head, Melanie rested it on Erica's shoulder and breathed out a shaky breath. "Sometimes I wish it was just you and me in the world. It would make it much easier."

Erica kissed the top of her head. "If the world catered to our wishes, I'd want the same thing. But because it doesn't we have to make do and make it ours." Feigning ignorance she scratched her head and asked, "Who was it that said that this year we were going to make it 'ours'?"

"I did," Melanie replied, sniffing.

"Right. Now get your cute ass in your jersey and show these boys what a girl can do. I'm not going to be freezing my ass off for my best friend for nothing."

Punching Erica on the arm, Melanie brushed away any remaining tears that stained her cheeks. Erica was the first to stand and once she stood at her full height she grabbed Melanie's hands and pulled her to her feet, then she pulled her into a hug. "Mom's getting me after detention so call me afterwards, promise?"

"Promise," Melanie replied, her voice muffled by Erica's shirt.

The two parted and Melanie set about cleaning up the candy on the floor and then changed into her practice gear. Carrying her helmet and stick out to the field she apologized to Coach for being late and did her extra suicide runs as punishment. Panting afterwards, she trudged over to the bench to grab her helmet and get a swig of water.

"I…I tried getting people to stop talking," Isaac said quietly as the rest of the team came over for water. "Told them what happened. I think it helped but, um, you, uh, you doing okay?"

"Yeah," Melanie replied, looking around at the maroon wall surrounding her, the fire returning to her eye, "never been better."

# # #

The bitter cold didn't stop Melanie's nerves from jumping around that Saturday night nor did it deter the spirit of the Cyclone supporters in the stands. Everyone was bundled up in their hats, gloves, and scarves to support the lacrosse team on their big first game of the season. Parents and students alike crammed into the two bleachers, ready for the game to start. Nothing could beat the energy that flitted throughout the field.

"Oh! Look! There's my mom and dad!" Melanie pointed out happily as she walked with Scott and Stiles to the field. She bounced on her toes and waved at them. They pointed and waved back. Their smiles slipped off their faces when Melanie recoiled when she felt another familiar thunk against the back of her head. "Seriously, they're not done with that?" she mumbled, feeling her shoulders droop. It seemed the more she tried to ignore the talk the rest of the week the more relentless they became. And now her parents were around, couldn't they give her a break? "Maybe this was a mistake."

"Hey, whoa, no," Stiles said, whipping out his lacrosse stick to block her from walking, effectively stopping Scott, who was walking in between them, from walking as well. "You stop that right now. Just focus on lacrosse, okay? Just focus on lacrosse. You got your stick? You got your helmet? Good. Don't think about anything else. Block it all out. You got it? You good?" Melanie nodded her head and exchanged a look with Scott. His motivational speeches were a force to be reckoned with. "Alright. You can do this. Besides…I need someone to ride the bench with me while Scott's out there being all awesome."

"Thanks, guys. No pressure," Scott muttered as they approached the benches. Melanie's eyebrows lifted when Lydia approached and they almost launched off her forehead when she spoke to Scott. The expression on Stiles's face mirror how strange the moment was but the two still walked away to give them privacy.

"Erica, you came!" Melanie said happily as her friend approached. "And…you painted your face," she continued, noticing the number 16 on both cheeks in black. "Eri, you know that stuff makes you break out."

"So does my medicine," Erica replied with a shrug. "Besides, you're worth it," she added, tugging on Melanie's ponytail which sat low on her shoulder.

"I'm not even playing," Melanie pointed out, her breath forming a cloud in front of her when she sighed.

"That doesn't mean I still can't support you," Erica said. "Now go and warm that bench. I'll be sitting with your mom and dad."

They hugged quickly and Erica pushed her way through the crowd to get to the bleachers as Melanie rushed to catch up to Stiles. They sat down on the bench and got situated when Coach came by to sit. He shoved Greenburg off the bench and dropped down next to Jackson, asking if his shoulder was alright, which they all knew he would play on even if it wasn't.

A few tense minutes later the whistle finally sounded which was followed by a loud roar as the opposing team and the Beacon Hills Cyclones jumped up to take the field.

"Hey kid," Sheriff Stillinski greeted Stiles as he appeared behind the bench. Melanie had to work her muscles to keep herself from hopping onto the player next to her out of surprise. Stiles pulled the glove he had been chewing on out of his mouth and greeted his father in return. "So you think you'll see any action tonight?"

"Action?" Stiles repeated. "Maybe."

"You alright, dude?" Melanie asked, pushing his arm.

"Wha, me? Yeah. I'm alright. I'm great, even," Stiles replied, running a hand over his buzzed haircut. "Great, great, great, great."

Another whistle blew and the game started. Applause and cheers ran up and down the bleachers as Jackson got control of the ball and charged the field. He looked around and shot the ball to a teammate despite Scott waving that he was open. They tossed the ball back and forth to one another as they advanced.

"Oh, come on," Stiles groaned.

"Maybe they just don't see him," Melanie offered up.

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles replied but he didn't sound convinced.

The ball was knocked out of a player's hand and rolled harmlessly on the grass. Scott spotted it and went for it but in the same instant Jackson went for the ball. Jackson barely edged Scott out and knocked him out of the way as he scooped the ball up for himself. A groan went through the crowd as Scott fell onto his side. The grown quickly changed to a loud cheer as Jackson scored the first goal of the quarter with eleven minutes left. High fives were spread between Jackson and the team as Scott looked on, shaking his head.

Melanie stretched her legs out on the bench and watched as Coach jumped up and down the sidelines screaming for Jackson to get fired up. She shook her head in disgust. Were she and Stiles the only ones who saw that Jackson had knocked Scott over just to get to the ball? Did they not see that no one was passing to him?

She shoved her thumbnail into her mouth and began to bite on it as the players set up again. Her leg bounced as her foot rapidly tapped against the ground. Her focus was broken by Stiles's utter of, "Oh, this is not gonna be good."

"Why, what's wrong?" Melanie asked.

"Turn around," Stiles replied, his jaw set.

Melanie whirled around. She didn't have to work hard to figure out what it was that Stiles was talking about. Lydia and Jackson were holding up a large sign that read WE LUV U JACKSON. She grimaced. Scott had seen it, of course.

"But he couldn't actually believe that Allison is into Jackson when she's obviously into him," she said aloud. She didn't get a response from Stiles who had gone back to chewing on his glove. She glanced back at the field and saw some of the boys huddling together, talking about something. Even if she strained to hear she wouldn't be able to tell what it was that they were saying over the noise and she couldn't read lips with their helmets blocking their faces.

The team set up for the next play and it wasn't until the ref spoke to Scott that she noticed his breath clouds coming out funny. "Stiles, Stiles, Stiles, Stiles," she said pushing his arm, never breaking her gaze at Scott, "what's wrong with him?"

"He, erm…asthma!" Stiles replied. "He's having a bit of a breathing problem. Yeah! He'll be fine."

She frowned. That wasn't an asthma attack, from what she remembered. His breathing was too even, too heavy. Almost as if he was heaving for his breath. She looked at Stiles out of the corner of his eye who looked much jumpier than he was before. First the party where he acted weird, then practice when, in the blink of an eye, he knocked Jackson out, and now this. Something definitely wasn't adding up.

"Hey, how're we doing so far?" Isaac asked, dropping down on the bench. His chest heaved and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin.

"One point so far," Melanie replied. "Jackson scored it. He even—what the heck happened to you?" she asked, taking in his disheveled appearance. Her eyes roamed from his unkempt hair to the flush in his cheeks to the sweat on his face and to his twisted jersey.

"Had to ride my bike," Isaac replied. "Lost track of time. Did Coach notice?"

"Coach is too busy wanting to throw himself at Jackson's feet, don't worry."

Isaac nodded and brushed his arm across his forehead. The motion drew her attention to his knuckles which were red and scraped. A few still had shiny beads of blood on them but he didn't seem to notice as he fixed his jersey and got comfortable on the bench. The bowling whistle made her abandon the unasked question in her head. It could wait, the game was more important.

The game became a tense battle for the ball. Stick and hand checks increased in occurrence as the first quarter turned to the second and then the second turned to a third after half time. The longer they played the harder they hit. The teams moved back and forth across the field, blocking shots and knocking over anyone that got in their way.

Finally it all came down to the last minute and a half in the fourth quarter. Beacon Hills was down by two. They needed a good upset to win the game. The more the team refused to pass to Scott the more worked up Stiles got until Melanie and Greenburg had to hold him down with a lacrosse stick across his lap in fear of him jumping on the ref to try and see a bad call. They knew he would do it too, if he was unrestrained.

Jackson and the opposing player bowed down and fought over the ball for another play. The opposing player managed to get it and fling it into the air. It arced up and came back down. Another team player on the visiting team was prepared to catch it but Scott stepped over their head to catch the ball.

"Did I just see that?" Melanie asked, unblinking.

"Yeah," Isaac replied, slowly nodding his head. "What's he on?"

"I don't know."

The crowd went wild as Scott sprinted down the field, turning and ducking out of the way of anyone that tried to stop him. It was almost as if they were all to slow for him. He took a shot and scored another goal with a minute and five seconds to spare. The crowd exploded in excitement; Stiles the most excited of all of them as he jumped to his feet and searched for high fives.

"Wooooo! Go Scott!" Melanie cheered, waving her stick in the air.

Coach and Stiles started marching down the sidelines, screaming for the team to pass to Scott. Melanie snuck a glance at Jackson and saw his face turn to stone. She couldn't help but smirk. That's what he got for pushing everyone around and feeling superior to everyone else and forgetting that they were all on the same team.

The teams lined up on the line again. There was no restraining the crowd as time ticked on once the whistle blew. Jackson lost the fight again. A white jersey player got the ball and started to run for it but stopped when he looked at Scott. Large clouds of breath seeped out of his helmet and the opposing player looked terrified. So terrified in fact that he threw the ball to Scott and then moved out of his way.

Once again Scott raced to the goal. No one could catch him. No one could touch him. With a loud growl he threw the ball and it moved so fast it broke through the opposing goalie's net, tying up the game at thirty-nine seconds left.

"Did you see that? Did you see that?" Melanie yelled, slapping Isaac's shoulder. She barely noticed Stiles sitting back down on the bench in her excitement.

"No, I am completely blind, Melanie," Isaac replied, grabbing her hands to stop her. Despite his words he had a small smile on his face.

"We can win this, we can totally win this! Pass to Scott! Pass to Scott!" she yelled.

Jackson crouched down at the line again. Once again the ball was captured by the other team but Scott managed to get it and charged the net. Beacon Hills was already on its feet, expecting the win as Scott slowed down, drawing out the clock, surveying his opponents.

"Oh no, no, no, no. Scott, no," Stiles muttered.

"What's wrong with you?" Melanie demanded, backslapping his arm. "We're going to win!"

Time ticked down. Scott stood still and no one charged him. They all looked at one another. Ten seconds. Nine seconds. Eight seconds. Scott's head twisted this way and that. His opponents didn't seem to know whether to charge him or stand their ground.

Seven seconds.

Six seconds.

Five seconds.

Someone made a decision. An opposing defender charged Scott. He drew back his arm, twisting at the waist, and threw the ball forward.

The crowd held it's breath.

The sound of the ball hitting against the net seemed amplified amongst the quiet field.

Beacon Hills won!

"Wooooooo!" the audience yelled, jumping up and down, applauding the come from behind win all because of Scott McCall.

"Scott, you did it! You did it! Wooohooo!" Melanie cheered above the noise, using her cupped gloved hands to magnify her screaming.

"Yes!" Stiles screamed and then laughed. "Oh my god!" He opened his arms and welcomed Melanie's excited jump onto him as the stands emptied and the audience poured out onto the field.

He set her down and she began dancing in place, screaming at the top of her lungs at their win. They actually did it! They actually won! She hoped that they would set a good start on the season and if this wasn't it she didn't know what it could be.

The smile on her face that made her cheeks ache slowly faded when she spotted someone sprinting off the field. Number 11. Scott. Her eyebrows furrowed. Why was he running away when he had just won the game for them? When he became a hero?

That's it! If anyone knew anything about the world of Scott McCall it would be his buddy. Stepping over the bench she had occupied for the past hour, she marched over to Stiles who was talking to his father and tapped him on the shoulder until he turned around.

"What's his deal?" she asked, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to where Scott had disappeared into the darkness.

"Uh…" Stiles dragged, his eyes bouncing around. Melanie crossed her arms and waited. "He's just excited! He's like a puppy! You know how they get when they're excited. Need to empty that bladder."

She grabbed his shoulder and held onto his jersey before he could turn away. She was tired of being lied to. "Stiles Stilinski, there is something going on with Scott and I want to know what it is right now."


a/n –We finally reached (and finished) episode two! Hooray! So I usually showed Erica's and Melanie's friendship from Erica's side and so, in this chapter, I decided to give you all a glimpse of their friendship from Melanie's side to explain why they're such good friends. You always have to have someone there to catch you when you fall, no matter how strong you are. I hope you enjoyed the last little bit of normalness before we jump into the supernatural side of things. Also, are my chapters too long or are they the right length for you all? Thanks for reading, please review.

**Revised 6/22/18**