.
Now everybody asks me why I'm smiling out from ear to ear
(They say love hurts)
But I know (It's gonna take a little work)
Nothing's perfect, but it's worth it after fighting through my tears
And finally you put me first
Chapter 23: Unraveling
"He's not picking up," Sherry said, checking her phone one last time before stuffing it in her pocket. "He said he was coming."
"Oh," said Theo, grimacing. He lounged in the library chair, looking up from the brick-like AP Bio textbook. "He must have forgotten. You know how often things come up unexpectedly in Beacon Hills."
"I guess," she sighed, slipping into the seat across from him. She took out the recent biology test, fighting the urge to mar out her score in ink made from a black hole. "So. Teach me your smart secrets?"
Chuckling, he shook his head. "I don't know what you're referring to there. I just study a lot."
"Yeah, but," she spluttered, "I do too! But I actually failed the last test and you got a perfect score. Help!"
His blue eyes twinkled and Sherry wondered for a moment whether he'd made some sort of deal with Satan to achieve such perfection. He had smarts, muscles, pretty eyes, pretty hair, and even (Sherry hated to admit it) a pretty face. She considered asking him for the devil's phone number.
"Let's start with your test," Theo suggested, peering at the purple packet. He didn't even bat an eye at her score. "I think we should review RNA."
Sherry nodded. "'Kay."
For the next half hour or so, Sherry and Theo studied biology together, but it wasn't long before the conversation shifted from relationships among organelles to relationships with the pack.
"How long have you known Scott?" Theo asked. They'd moved their chairs closer over time, mostly to avoid the librarian glaring at them for talking. He now sat at a side adjacent to Sherry's, his sharp blue eyes uncomfortably close.
"Since January," she answered, and suddenly realized that it had really been seven months since she'd moved to Beacon Hills. "You?"
"Since second grade," he said, which shocked her. "But I moved in fourth grade. He barely remembers me from then."
"Oh, that sucks," she commiserated. "So you knew Stiles then, too?"
"Yeah, but he's almost convinced that I'm not the same person from fourth grade. He thinks I'm some Mad-Eye Moody level impostor and I can't tell whether or not that's a compliment."
"Bartemius Crouch Jr. did get found out in the end, though."
He grinned, exposing perfectly pearly whites. "I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, how's it going with the beta? Liam's your age, isn't he?"
At this, Sherry pulled her feet up onto the chair and hugged her knees to her chest. Resting her chin on her kneecaps, she muttered, "I don't even know."
"Do you think you're not good enough for him? That he doesn't like you?" Theo questioned, his voice soft like a therapist's.
She didn't answer.
"It's okay; a lot of people think that," he assured her. "But I think you're a nice kid, if that means anything."
"Nice doesn't mean likable."
"What makes you think that?"
"Okay, tell me then. If you were Liam, would you possibly have a crush on me?"
Theo laughed. "Are you asking me if I'm your type? No offense, but you're a little young for me."
She balked. "What? No!"
"Just kidding! Anyway, in all seriousness, the only way to find out is to ask. Why don't you?"
"He doesn't like me like that. I saw him interact with another girl the other day, and he was just as nice to her as he is to me. It's conceited to think that he likes me more."
"You won't know until you try," Theo repeated. "And you're pretty smart; you'll figure out a way. Trust me."
For some reason, right then, she trusted him.
For another unforeseen reason, Liam readily agreed to meet her at a local coffeehouse at four. For a different reason, which Sherry had actually anticipated, he turned out to be struggling in English, a subject she had no issues with. They sat at a booth in the Abbey Street coffee shop, with books and worksheets in front of them and nothing between them but thin summer wear and six inches of humid, coffee-permeated air.
Sherry leaned over Liam's copy of the poem "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou, instructing the boy on the proper techniques of literary annotations. She referred to a set of three highlighters and colorful pens, explaining the basics of color-coding. He floundered for a good ten minutes, apparently baffled by the sorcery of organization. She couldn't tell whether he was actually that clueless or if he was faking. Either way, she found that it was a good opportunity to scoot closer to him every time he messed up.
It wasn't long before Liam started smiling every time their hands brushed, if smiling was even the right term. He had a wide grin that showed no teeth and crinkled at the corners; his eyes grew in both surprise and happiness.
As she explained literary devices, using "Liam is a wolf" jokingly as a metaphor, she could feel the barriers between them cracking and crumbling, their little laughs and one-liners acting as sledgehammers and graffiti on the Berlin Wall. He started to poke her, nudge her to get her attention (not like it had been lost), and it took all of her willpower not to flinch away again. Love, or "like," even, wasn't an all-curing elixir. Love didn't come from an intrinsic feeling of comfort. It came from perseverance.
Sherry reminded herself of her plan. She had to make a move, as Theo had said, but it required devious preparations. She'd checked off steps one and two: Get Liam Alone, and Make Him Like Me. Letting out a small breath, Sherry geared up for step three and changed the subject.
"I heard Kylie Pendery, on varsity soccer, is going to Homecoming with some guy Dana Vaughns, who is supposed to be in a boy band," she gossiped, leaning against Liam. "And the quarterback Jack Rydell is bringing Caterina Stevenson. Her uncles are apparently hunters and travel the country in a muscle car."
"Hunters?" Liam yelped. "Like the Argents?"
"No, normal hunters," she said. "I think. Anyway, who else is going to Homecoming?"
"Not the pack," he said. "They have bad experiences from Winter Formal two years ago."
"Oh," she said, brainstorming a solution to this roadblock. "But you don't, right?"
"No, I wasn't there," he said, which was exactly the reason why she'd asked that question. She adjusted her hair, moving it from one shoulder to the other, and glanced up at him, hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't.
She sighed, mostly to herself, and said, "I usually avoid school dances too."
"Why?"
"Because I usually don't know anyone," she explained. "It's awkward to stand alone at the side, eating vending machine snacks."
"I take it you have experience?"
"Nope. Because I don't give myself the opportunity to."
His eyes lit up. "Oh! If I was your date, would you go? You wouldn't be alone then." Finally! There it was! Granted, it was still more of a pity ask, but step three was checked off her list. She could have asked herself, but her goal was to make him interested in her. That involved making him feel like he was.
"Maybe," she answered coyly, "But I'll have to check my schedule. And is this an official Homecoming ask?"
"Uh..."
"Because usually the asker makes a poster or something."
"I'll get a poster!" he exclaimed eagerly. "I'll decorate it with markers, and ribbons, and- and even glitter, too-"
"I'm kidding," she said, laughing. "What's the point of a poster except attention?" Which wasn't exactly true, but the statement served her purposes. It proved he was willing to work for her.
Nodding, he agreed. "I'd say I'll pick you up, but, um, I don't have a car."
"It's perfectly alright," she said, hugging him. He froze, taken aback, and hesitated for a moment before squeezing her back. She would have been pleased about another step checked off, but she hadn't realized how good his hug would feel. She basked in happiness, breathing in his furry smell, and hoped nothing would go wrong this year.
She found out, later, that Scott, Kira, Stiles, and Lydia had gone to the Eichen House without her to track down some three-eyed man, and that Kira had caused an electrical shortcircuiting that let the Dread Doctors (apparently, the men in the metal suits who had killed Tracy) get to the three-eyed man. She was still slightly confused, but all she understood was that Kira had an issue with her kitsune powers and that the pack had lost another chess piece.
She had less important things to worry about instead, like last-minute dress shopping with Lydia and Kira at noon. Lydia, because of obvious shopping-related reasons, and Kira, because Sherry liked her sense of style more anyway. The main reason they'd agreed to come, though, was that the girls needed to recover from the traumatic incident last night - and getting their minds off things temporarily would help. Malia, however, had corralled herself into her bedroom, needing time to think, and claimed she knew nothing about fashion anyway. And Mason, though he did claim the title of "Gay Best Friend," knew nothing about fashion and even less about gossip.
Which there seemed to be a lack of, for once, and it was oddly disheartening for Sherry to have to start all the conversations herself when her friends were too caught up in mulling over events to comment lightheartedly.
"Why don't you guys go home?" Sherry finally said, pausing in rifling through another rack of dresses. "You need rest, and you're probably itching to do something, so just go! I can do my hair and makeup myself; a dance isn't as important as saving lives. Okay?"
Lydia shook herself, plastering on a glossed smile. "I'm fantastic! I love shopping."
"Yeah, but you're not even doing anything anyway. Go home," Sherry repeated, frowning at both the strawberry-blonde and Kira.
Kira reached out to touch a metal rack, but quickly retracted, the fear on her face clearly reflecting her haywire electricity incident. "By the way," she said, distracted, "My parents said you're invited over for dinner tomorrow. If you want."
"I'd love to!" Sherry grinned, thankful for something new. "I'm dying for some Asian food. Homestyle stuff, not Panda Express."
"That's what I told my dad." Her voice faded again, which was frighteningly uncharacteristically un-Kira, and Sherry once again prodded her to go home. If Kira wasn't rambling on awkwardly about something, there was something very wrong with her. Something that, hopefully, a day's rest would fix.
"Hey," said Lydia just as hollowly, "Has Parrish said anything about me? Or jiu-jitsu?"
Short, tight, black, and glittery was about as accurate a description of her dress as any, and Liam barely glanced at it has he offered her his arm. If he'd checked her out before approaching her, she hadn't noticed, but her inner voice sang that even with the curled hair and outlined eyes Lydia'd spent an hour fussing over, she still wasn't worth looking at. It hurt, but she grinned and bore it.
Mason was there, too, in a nice black tux and a blue satin tie. As soon as the trio made it though the front doors, though, he departed with a knowing look at Liam and Sherry. Then he disappeared into the mass of grinding teenagers to find himself a cute boy.
"So," Sherry said, unlinking her arm from Liam's to grab his hand, "What does a high school student normally do at a dance?"
"Dance, I'd assume," he replied, and began to lead her toward the center of the decorated gym.
She paled. When coming up with her masterplan of Make Liam My Boyfriend, she hadn't quite thought this part through. It hadn't occurred to her that there would be anything other than romantic slow dancing. "Cool kids don't dance," she said.
"Since when were you cool?"
"Ouch," she pouted. "Since I assimilated into the ruling pack of BHHS. But, Liam, I'm serious. I don't dance."
"I don't either," he admitted, then had a thought. "Aren't you a cheerleader?"
"Fine," she allowed reluctantly, "I only dance when I'm given choreography. Not when I have the chance to make a fool of myself."
He paused. "So... no dancing at all?"
"Only slow dancing," she winked, hoping that didn't come across as too forward. She wasn't sure where the line between flirty and desperate lay. "Until then, let's go hang out."
She pulled the boy over to a small group of girls, several of whom Sherry knew from her classes. Hayden was among them, dressed in a slinky blue bodycon dress. She nearly flew over to envelop Sherry in a tight hug, then stuck her tongue out at Liam. "That's cute. Did you bring Mister Tantrum here because you were feeling sorry for him?"
Sherry felt Liam tense up beside her, and she quickly replied, "No, actually-"
Hayden rolled her heavily made-up eyes. "I was kidding, Sherry. You're too nice. But for real," she continued, glancing around at her friends, "Are you two dating?"
"No!" Liam blurted immediately. Sherry said the same simultaneously, but with much less enthusiasm. Her good mood sank a little.
"Still," Hayden reminded Sherry, "Stay away from him. I hate him for a reason."
"I'll keep that in mind," she answered, then excused herself along with Liam. She loved the girl, but she could only stand so much negativity in on conversation. "Let's dance," she whispered.
The house was decorated in a distinct Japanese style, with glossy wood-paneled floors and soft blossoms decorating the wallpaper. Little wooden and golden statuettes decorated the tops of cabinets and bookshelves. Savory soup scents wafted from the kitchen, where Mr. Yukimura, clad in an apron that resembled knight's armor, waved enthusiastically at Sherry with a wooden spoon still in his hand.
"Hi, Mr. Yukimura," she said. "What are you making?"
"Guksu," he said, then clarified, "Noodle soup. Sorry, I forgot you don't speak Korean either. Kira told me your dad was Chinese."
"At least I know the names of Korean food," Kira retorted. "And Japanese food."
"That hardly counts, Kira," Mrs. Yukimura said, appearing from around a corner. She was very pretty and looked young for her age, but for some reason had an older, wiser aura. Not a visible one, like Kira's last two incidents. She finished tying her hair up into a bun and smiled at Sherry. "So we finally meet. I've heard a lot about you."
"You have?" Sherry squeaked, genuinely shocked. She wasn't sure what she'd done that deserved being talked about.
"Yes," Kira's mother answered. "Kira says you went to visit relatives in Hong Kong over the summer."
"That's where she got her hair colored pink," Kira explained, gesturing to Sherry's slowly fading dip-dyed strands.
"Both of Kira's parents are Asian, yet she's never been out of the US," Mrs. Yukimura continued. "She also doesn't speak a word of any language but English."
"I'm in Spanish 4," Kira argued.
"Do you know any Chinese?" Mrs. Yukimura barreled on, ignoring her daughter's protests.
"A bit," Sherry answered, sitting down with the rest of the family when Mr. Yukimura finally brought out the finished soup, dumplings, and rice. "I went to Chinese language school on the weekends for several years. And my grandparents spoke only Chinese."
"Which dialects?" Mr. Yukimura questioned, not taking off his apron as he spooned portions of soup into bowls. A matching chainmail-print oven mitt protected his other hand.
"I know Mandarin mostly, but my grandparents and dad also spoke Cantonese and Chaozhounese."
"That's interesting," he said, looking like the intrigued history teacher he was. "Did you know that the other name for the Chaozhou people from the eastern Guangdong province is Teochew, and many of those people now live in-"
Kira leaned over and whispered into Sherry's ear, "Ask about his armor."
"What's with the armor?" Sherry asked, hoping she wouldn't sound rude for interrupting him.
Mr. Yukimura beamed, like he'd been waiting all his life to answer that question. "I got it on a trip to the Hampton Court Palace in London! It represents the armor of the knights who historically used to reside at the palace, which was originally built by the archbishop Thomas Wolsey of York, who, funny story, was actually visited by Henry VIII and-"
"Ken," Mrs. Yukimura chided, "Not now. Wait until Monday."
"What's on Monday?"
"Your actual history class. Which you are paid to teach."
"Oh," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry."
Kira rolled her eyes. "This happens every day," she explained to Sherry. "He gets wind of something vaguely historical, then goes on about it for an hour or so."
"I think it's interesting."
"Kiss-up."
"No, really!" Sherry insisted. "My parents used to talk about nothing but school and the HOA. And Parrish is never around to talk at all."
"See?" Mr. Yukimura crowed. "Someone likes my history fun facts. Maybe you should transfer to my world history class."
"I would, but I'm taking AP," she apologized. "Sorry."
"Darn it!" He scowled in mock disappointment.
The rest of dinner went about the same way. Mrs. Yukimura asked polite, non-intrusive questions. Mr. Yukimura cracked dad jokes at every opportunity, taking glee in his daughter's embarrassment. And Kira gladly talked about the supernatural, informing Sherry at one point that Mrs. Yukimura was also a kitsune - and an old one at that.
Afterward, Sherry and Kira collapsed on the girl's soft bed, discussing mysteries, relationships, and college. As they chatted about extracurriculars, Sherry mentioned, "I used to take wushu lessons."
"Are you good?"
"Sorta. I finished my black belt last year and quit after that. But it's not that hard to get a black belt, you know. You just have to do a fancy routine, do an aerial, and survive some conditioning."
"I don't know about you, but that sound pretty advanced to me," Kira laughed. "Even I can't do an aerial."
"I bet you could when you get all fired up and have that fiery fox aura thing."
Kira fell silent, staring at her nails. "I have a feeling the fox is around even when you can't see it."
"Why? Is it like a demon?"
She shook her head. "I dunno. I'm afraid that the next time I get in a fight, I might actually kill someone. The other day I asked Scott to look for something with his wolf eyes and he ended up staring at me - or a couple inches above me - for a little too long."
"Did he tell you what he saw?"
"He said there was nothing, but I'm pretty sure he lied," she said semi-bitterly. "I'm not as oblivious as everyone thinks. He had this look on his face, like he was surprised. And not in the good way, either."
"You should tell your mom about your fox," Sherry urged. "She's been a kitsune for ages, hasn't she? Maybe she should know what's going on."
Kira nodded. "Tonight. I'll tell her tonight."
