Wishing on Silver Linings
CHAPTER TWO
Waking up the next morning is difficult. Her alarm clock rings for five minutes straight, blaring into her ear from where it shakes on her nightstand. The sound is extremely loud; she can feel the vibrations of it in her ears, pulsing wildly. Shay doesn't move – laying perfectly still, she stares at the ceiling and feels the vibrations of the sound pound in her ears. It has never sounded like that before. Never.
Her mother gets her out of her head, rushing into the room with a cup of juice in one hand and an ice pack in the other. She takes one look at the pitiful sight of her only daughter and immediately loses her smile. She puts down the mug on the nightstand and presses the ice pack on top of Shay's stomach. For a second, Shay is lost to her mother's affection. Oh right, she realizes, I'm faking a fever. Her mother feels her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Oh, you're still warm," her mother worries aloud. "You sure you don't want me to call in sick?"
"I'm fine, mom. Really, it'll be worse for you if you stay."
Her mother gives a reluctant nod. She brushes Shay's wild, dark hair back gently. "If you need anything at all, call me. The aspirin and Tylenol are in the medicine cabinet, and I've left you two water bottles on your dresser. Drink your juice and then I'll go."
Shay does her best to smile as she forces the entire glass of juice down. The taste is so intense, she almost gags twice. She isn't surprised that even her taste buds have become oversensitive. Everything is out of wack – she can smell the sweet plum perfume her mother is wearing and hear the upstairs neighbor's dog scratching at the carpeted floor. Now, apparently, she can taste every bit of pulp that is in her glass, taste the fresh skin of the fruit before it was peeled. Shay holds back another gag right as she finishes the last of it. Beth pecks her forehead and waves as she leaves the room, giving one last reminder about calling.
"For anything," she says, stern.
"For anything," Shay repeats, already turning on her side to stare at her wall and pretend to sleep.
She doesn't move again until she can no longer hear the click of her mother's heels, even after she's left their apartment. Once she is sure that her mother is in the elevator, Shay presses her nose into her pillow and lets out a weak sob. From there, her cries only escalate – lone tears erupting into a waterfall, her throat tight from the broken noises she can't help but make. It feels wrong to cry – she has developed superhuman abilities overnight that so many other people would kill for and here she is, blubbering into her pillow like a toddler.
It's just that –
Today is the day that it is determined who is makes first line on the team. And she isn't going to be there for practice, to show the coach that she is still as good as last year. That he hadn't made a mistake in making the only girl on the team the goalie. Now some boy is going to take her spot and she would have to be stuck on bench, away from the game and back to the bottom. She can already see it: the whispers, the glances, everything she would never notice before now heightened. "See her," they'd say. "The only girl on the team and she's benched. Figures, since this is a boy's sport."
The ache in her chest only grows at the thought. She can't even call Scott or Stiles. They'd worry and try to visit her at home, skipping out on practice all together just to check up on her. Scott had worked too hard to just skip out. He needs to make first line. Shay knows that better than anyone – even better than Stiles. She'd stayed up late into the summer nights helping Scott catch and throw and dodge and block. They'd shared bruises and scratches and even a sprained ankle on Scott's part. Whatever she is going through, Scott is, too. Only he is taking it in stride, using his new abilities like nothing. The dude had even gotten a date! He had texted her some time the night before in all caps and multiple spelling errors about his run in with a girl named Allison at the vet's and how they were going to a party together. She'd sent him back an enthusiastic reply, and then promptly threw her lacrosse stick against the wall. It hadn't broken, thank goodness, but it did leave a dent.
And Stiles – she can't go to Stiles about this. The boy is a good friend, the best even, but he isn't so great at soothing tears. Especially female tears. Something about seeing Shay cry leaves him frazzled, stumbling and fumbling for solutions. She's known this since they first became friends, way back in middle school when she was screaming and crying because she'd just broken her arm. Scott had rubbed her back and helped her walk to the nurse's office. Stiles had freaked, ran around like a headless chicken, and tripped on himself. When they showed up at the nurse's office, it was with Scott holding a sobbing Shay and blood pouring from where Stiles' nose had connected with the ground. Needless to say, the boy isn't a pro at comforting.
So Shay lets herself cry until the tears finally stop and sleep takes over. It's a restless sleep, but sleep none the less. She wakes up again to the small chime of her phone. It's such a tiny sound, muffled from the thick blanket above it, but Shay hears it loud and clear. Tears build up at the corners of her eyes again but she brushes them away and sits up to answer her phone. There's more than just one text on her notifications.
FROM: MANGO MARGO
are you coming to math today?
FROM: SCOTTIE DOESN'T KNOW
Hey where r u ? r u comin 2 skool?
FROM: HAIRY STILES
Get to school, I got spooky news
A heavy feeling falls on her shoulders. She answers Margo's text with a quick 'sorry I didn't show up to keep you company' but hesitates in answering the boys. What was she going to tell them? They would know if she was lying. They always know. There was a time when she tried to keep her crush on Jackson a secret and Stiles saw right through it, throwing a hissy fit and raving about how she'd gone to the "dark side". He'd found out by just observing her smile patterns – her smile patterns.
But, she figures a weird text is better than no text at all.
TO: SCOTTIE DOESN'T KNOW
Not feeling too hot. Got a fever (lmao the irony)
That doesn't sound too bad.
TO: HAIRY STILES
Not going to school today. What's the news?
That isn't so bad, either.
Shay lets out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding and slumps against her headboard. She glances at the clock and figures that they would be in lunch by now. Hopefully they won't see her texts until the end of the day. It is exhausting just thinking about school – all the sounds and smells, different scents and heartbeats crammed into one building. The coach's whistle still rings in her head. Yup, she is never going back.
For the remainder of her day, Shay does nothing but fall in and out of sleep. At one point her mom calls to see if she is still alive, to which Shay tiredly assures her she is. Margo texts her I wrote your notes for you. Get well soon. which is sweet. Stiles and Scott have yet to reply. Shay is more relieved than she is hurt. If they aren't replying that means they are keeping busy and not in some sort of predicament. She considers that a win. Nothing bad is happening to anyone else, just her. Somehow, that makes everything a little more okay.
Shay doesn't wake up again until she feels hot breath on her cheek and instantly she is up and moving, slamming whoever it is that is close to her down to the floor. She feels a throat in her hands and can hear a wild heartbeat, scared scared scared. She knows that heartbeat. How can she know a heartbeat?
"Stiles?" Shay asks as her vision clears. From under her, Stiles nods frantically, his hands up by his head in surrender.
"Oh my god, Stiles!" She pulls him up by his collar, hugging the lanky boy close. "Stiles, I'm so sorry."
Stiles mumbles into her shoulder, holding her just as tightly. How could she have done that, to Stiles of all people? What good are these new abilities if she is just going to hurt people with them? With fresh tears in her eyes, Shay pulls back to inspect Stiles' head. She can't smell any blood.
"I don't know what's happening to me, Stiles," she finally confesses brokenly. "I-I can smell and hear things that no one should be able to smell and hear. Tasting anything is like seeing its entire food process and I can-… I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles. I can hear it like it's inside my head. And the dog upstairs, I just- I want to-… the dog, I can't believe I want to hurt the dog!"
By then she is full on crying again. It makes her so angry that she is doing it in front of Stiles, but she doesn't know what else to do. Shay bows her head low and grips the front of Stiles' shirt, not caring that she is still on top of him. Meeting his eyes is impossible, because she knows that what she is saying is ridiculous and freaky. She sounds like a total mutant, like something straight out of the X-Men or something. In another universe, that would've been cool. But not in this one.
"I know you d-don't believe that th-there is anything wrong with me and Scott but-"
Stiles sits up then, pushing himself up on his elbows and shaking his head. Their faces become so close, Shay can see the slight twitch below his left eye.
"No, no. Shay, I believe you. Shay, I know what's happening to you."
Shay blinks and gives a sarcastic scoff, climbing off him and leaning against her bed. Her face feels tight her stuffy nose and achy eyes. "Oh yeah, and what's that?"
"You're changing," he says seriously. "Your heightened senses, your urge to kill. It all happened after…" Stiles' gaze falls onto her shoulder, where her shirt has slanted and is revealing her bare skin. She fixes it quickly, rubbing the muscle.
"The scratch," she finishes for him.
Stiles move to sit beside her, shoulder to shoulder. Shay leans against him. Stiles doesn't say anything for a little while, playing with his fidgeting fingers and looking aimlessly around her room. It's like he's seeing it for the first time. At one point Shay floats off into her own head, ears instinctively listening in on the heartbeat next to her. It's no longer scared, just a little jumpy. She doesn't blame Stiles for being anxious; she'd just attacked him, for heaven's sake.
"I'm going to tell you something," Stiles begins suddenly," and I want you to promise to hear me out."
"Okay," Shay agrees, much too tired to do anything else.
Stiles takes a breath, then says," I think you and Scott are turning…into werewolves."
Shay doesn't respond right away, soaking in the information. A werewolf – Stiles thinks she's turning into a werewolf. All she can think about is his pathetic howl from the other day, his dismissive laughter at them saying how they saw a wolf. She glances at Stiles and finds him staring back, nervous but serious. He – he really believes it.
"The results came back from LA. The DNA they found on the first half of the dead body matched an animal. A wolf."
If Stiles says anything else after that, Shay can't be too sure. Her ears fill with white noise as she stares down at her hands, imagines them curling into hairy paws with yellow claws. She can't see it. All she sees is her own hands, a bit rough from lacrosse but otherwise human. How did this happen, she asks herself for what seems like the hundredth time. Something in her believes Stiles, though. Something inside of her keeps saying "he's close! He's close!" Like werewolf isn't quite the answer. But what else could it be? Shay tilts her head up and looks to her ceiling, up at the stick-on glow in the dark stars.
"I'm a werewolf," she whispers.
Stiles tilts his own head back. "Yeah. Yeah, you are. Or will be."
"Will be?" she asks, turning his way.
He nods solemnly. "Tonight's the full moon."
Tonight. But that means-
"Scott!"
Shay is standing before she realizes it, tossing her covers around and pushing at her pillows in search for her phone. Stiles quickly rises and grabs her arm.
"Hey, hey! I already told him." A dark look clouds Stiles' usually bright eyes. "Tried to, anyway. He won't listen. He's going to go to that party whether we warn him or not."
"Stiles, he could hurt somebody. He could hurt himself!"
"I know! Don't you think I know that? But he won't – listen – to – me."
Shay runs her hands through her tangled hair, pulling at the base of her skull in anger. Of course Scott wouldn't believe Stiles. Shay was having a hard time understanding why she believes Stiles, but he's the only lead she has to what's going on with herself – what's going on with her and Scott. It wasn't just her, like she thought it was. Her awareness isn't a weakness – Scott's ignorance is. Shay taps her foot and bites her lip, thoroughly regretting ever meeting the two boys. She turns and looks Stiles directly in the eye, feeling her stomach sink.
"Guess who's gonna have to crash a party."
Stiles face twists into a confused look that slowly melts into realization.
Now comes the hard part, Shay mentally sighs: finding a way to go without her mother knowing.
||/\\||
Her mom comes home ten minutes after Stiles leaves. She'd stopped to get Chinese food and got stuck in traffic. Shay smiles at her and tells her it's more than fine, eyes lingering on the slightly open window.
They eat in one-sided silence. Beth goes on and on about her day at work, laughing at all the silly art doodles her students had turned into her. Shay smiles at the sight of her mother laughing, glad to know she suspects nothing. She isn't sure at all about how she's going to sneak past her mother to the fire escape. Her mother doesn't go to bed until eleven. The party starts at ten. Shay forces another smile and a small laugh at something her mother says. How the hell is she going to do this?
When nine-thirty rolls around, Shay yawns loudly. Her mother looks up at her from where they are sitting on the couch and smiles. "Why don't you go to bed, hmm? You're going to need your rest if you want to get better."
Shay sends her a sleepy smile. "Anything you need before I go to bed? I feel like if you try to wake me up, I won't."
Her mom laughs with a shake of her head. "No, you're good to go." She leans to peck her cheek. "Night, kiddo."
"Night, mom."
Shay shuffles down the hall to her room, only dropping the sleepy façade once she's locked her door. Instantly, she's pulling off her pajamas and pulling on different clothes. Black jeans and a white shirt seem good enough. She pulls on her shoes and tugs on her jacket, mindful of the cold outside. Grabbing her phone before opening her window, Shay lets out an audible gulp. She can't believe she's doing this. In the alley below, Stiles' jeep waits patiently.
"Do it for Scott," she chants. "Do it for Scott."
Then she's out of her window and dangling from the edge, feet tucked on the thin ledge. Do it for Scott, do it for Scott, do it for Scott. Shay grips the wall and shuffles to the other window, trading her room's window ledge for her mother's. She is so close to the fire escape, just a few more feet.
The light in her mother's room turns on.
Screw it!
Shay legs go and falls, twisting around in the air. She reaches out and grabs hold of the fire escape, wincing as her body whips in the air as she dangles from the edge. She did it – she's alive!
Wasting no time, Shay climbs over the railing and slides down the rest of the way, letting out a loud sigh of relief once her boots touch the hood of Stiles' car. He visibly jumps when she lands not so gracefully on the hood. She gives him a sheepish smile and slides into the car.
"Just drive," she tells him before he can complain.
Stiles grumbles but does as she says.
.
.
.
The house is full by the time they arrive. People are flooding the lawn and flowing inside via the front door. There are girls in short dresses, boys in tight shirts, people swarming different sections of the house, from what she can see through the curtained windows. It's a bit intimidating, if Shay is being honest.
"How are we going to find Scott in all of this?" she asks Stiles from where they are parked across the street.
Stiles drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "No idea. Think you can hone in on him with your spidey-senses?"
"That's only for danger, Stiles," Shay snips back. She opens the door and gets out, Stiles right on her heels.
They walk across the street and enter the house without any trouble. Some people from school say hi to Shay, waving enthusiastically and shoving their drinks up in the air like trophies. Shay only smiles in return, pushing against the current of bodies in her way. Stiles follows closely behind her, fingers loosely holding on to her jacket. Shay would offer him her hand, but she heard Jackson would be here. Even if he is with Lydia, the idea of him thinking she's taken doesn't sit well with in her stomach.
They don't find Scott anywhere in the house. Not upstairs in the awkward make out rooms and not in the bathrooms-slash-other-make-out-rooms. She and Stiles trade grimaces with every couple sucking face they stumble upon. But no sign of Scott. With every minute that they are there, the pressure between Shay's eyes grows. She can feel something tingle down to the very marrow of her bones, aching and shifting. It's terrifying. She grabs onto Stiles' wrist and pulls him close so that he can hear her over the too loud music.
"Stiles, we need to find him. Something's happening and I-…I don't know how much longer either of us has."
He gives her a concerned once over and nods. They leave the stuffiness of the house and go out into the backyard. The music isn't as loud out here, but there's more people. Knowing that trying to get through the horde of teenagers will only waste time, Shay lets in a deep inhale, holding it in her nose. That's when she smells it.
Shay sniffs the air again, leaning in the direction of the scent. It's pungent and thick, familiar yet strange. It's Scott – it has to be. Her eyes zoom in on the crowd, hopping from face to face until they land on the mop of wavy hair in need of a trim. And when her eyes find him, his find hers. The look in his puppy-like eyes is desperate and afraid as he stumbles away from Allison and into her awaiting arms. Allison looks at them with confusion, clearly hurt at the sight of Scott leaving her for another girl. Shay really wishes she could explain, but Scott is sweating buckets in her arms and by the looks of the moon and the way her knees begin to tremble, Shay is well on her way to being in the same state.
"Your car, Scott," Shay begs as she guides them out of the house. Too many people try to talk to them on their way out, distorting everything and getting in the way. It feels like her ears are made of cotton and their voices are under water. At one point, she loses Stiles in the fray, but keeps pushing onward, Scott in her arms. Shay shakes herself out of the haze and pulls Scott up from where he has almost collapsed.
"Scott!"
"O-Over there. It's over there."
By some miracle they both get in, Shay in the driver's seat and Scott breathing heavily beside her. Shay sees Allison run their way. Guiltily she pushes the key into the ignition and drives off. She watches as Allison becomes smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. She hopes that the girl can forgive Scott – can forgive her.
"W-What's happening?" Scott mumbles, shivering in his cold sweat.
"Transformation," Shay bites out. Something in her jaw snaps and she almost swerves off the road. She runs her tongue along her teeth and feels the sharp points of…fangs. Fangs. Her foot presses harder on the gas. They don't have time, they don't have time.
When they do manage to pull up to Scott's house, the windows are dark.
"M-My mom…she has a shift tonight," Scott says.
Good. She doesn't have to see her son and his best friend turn into monsters.
They rush up to Scott's room, tripping and falling on the stairs. Shay's t-shirt and jacket stick to her skin, tossing them off when they get into Scott's room. Scott throws himself into the shower right away, groaning the entire time. Shay falls on his bed and curls up in a ball, feeling an ache ripple through her body. She's never known pain like this. Not even when she broke her arm. It is like her skin is trying to shed. Another pulse sweeps through her, forcing Shay to gasp in pain.
It's happening. They're changing into monsters – into werewolves.
Scott stumbles out of the shower, shirtless with wet pants. He falls at her side, reaching to touch her hand. It feels like hot iron against her oversensitive skin, the heat of his body burning. Shay lets him hold her anyway. Who knows if they'll both survive this.
There's an urgent pounding at the bedroom door. A familiar fluttering heartbeat.
"Scott? Shay! Open up, it's me."
Scott doesn't open the door fully, just a crack. Shay is grateful; she doesn't want Stiles anywhere in here.
"L-Listen," Scott pants," you gotta find Allison."
Stiles pushes harder against the door. "She's fine! I saw her get a ride from the party. Shay, you in there?"
"S-Stiles…" she manages weakly. Stiles only fights Scott harder to open the door.
"I know who it is," Scott babbles.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"It's Derek! Derek Hale is the one that bit us – he's the one that killed the girl in the woods."
Stiles stops fighting. "Scott… Derek was the one that drove Allison from the party."
It happens so quickly, Shay can't keep up in her pained state. One second Scott is by the door, the next he's out the window. Stiles continues to bang on the door, hard slams pounding into Shay's ears. She weakly calls for Scott but he's already gone. Claws pop from her fingernails and she can feel her ears elongate. Her mouth pulls in a weird way, reshaping itself for her new teeth. Everything hurts so, so much. Shay twists on the bed and stares at the moon as a roar reaches her from all the way outside.
Scott.
It's instinctual, how her head tosses back as she lets out her own roar, higher and distinct. It doesn't sound at all like the one outside. They both sound powerful and chaotic, desperate for something. They mix together, one dominant over the other but not quite. She can feel it through her skin and in her bones. Stiles pounds on the door as Shay's mind begins to fog. She can hear his own cry, pleading for her to open the door.
"Go away, Stiles! Before I-" There's a snap somewhere in her body, and she lets out another roar.
"Shay, I can help you, please!"
"I won't hurt you… I can't hurt you, Stiles." Her voice sounds different, darker, hungry. Shay forces herself to her feet and toward the window. She has to get away before he does anything drastic. Stiles' voice cracks with fear and that's all she needs to hear right as her mind slips. She's out the window, towards the moon and into the woods.
||/\\||
She doesn't follow the heavy scent of wolf as she runs through the woods. Instead, her eyes dart up to the moon. In the rough haze she's been thrown in, the moon looks like the light at the end of a very wild, very dark tunnel. She follows its shine as it leads her further and further into the preserve. The points of her ears flick at the sound of wolfscottfriendwolf. It only serves to make her run faster. She doesn't want to see him, knowing deep down that the urge to fight will burst out of her like a dam. He's a werewolf; for some reason, the thought of the word wolf makes her snarl out, snapping her fangs at the wind as she twists into the trees. The woods feel safe and like home – but they aren't safe and they aren't her home.
The moon leads her all the way to a house. It's old and crumbling, the lingering scent of ash and tears seeped down deep into the earth. An invisible pull forces her forward to the porch. Waves upon waves of power wash over her like ghosts – cold and ever present. The door creaks when she pushes it open. The inside is just as horrid looking as the outside.
Burnt wood and burnt metal is all she can smell. The house is cold; there is no living presence, no aura whatsoever. The hairs on the back of her neck and her arms stand on end as she climbs the stairs. It feels like she's been here before. Almost like-
Noise from farther into the woods startles her, making Shay growl and snap her teeth at nothing. She runs from the house, ignoring the sense of familiarity of it. Her senses are exploding with the woods. It's overwhelming.
All Shay can think about is running, running to the heart of the woods, running after the moon. Running to find it.
Whatever 'it' is.
||/\\||
Her mind comes back to her at the first light of dawn.
Shay wakes up from the feral fog that had clouded her mind and finds herself curled against a damp log, a tiny stream passing by her feet. She's still shirtless and her pants are dirty, ripped at the knees and ankles.
When she finds Scott, he's walking alongside the main road. The roads are clear of any cars or trucks, so it's just them out there. Scott isn't wearing a shirt or any shoes, holding his arm like it hurts. He doesn't hear her walk beside him until she steps right in front of him. The way he jumps would have been funny if he didn't look genuinely scared. Shay opens her arms and Scott hurriedly crowds in between them, letting out soft little noises that aren't quite sobs. Shay rubs his back and tries not to cry herself. She's feeling everything all at once – fear, anger, sadness, confusion, fear. She knows Scott is feeling the same, maybe even more so, with his new object of affection and placement on the team. Shay doesn't blame him for trembling like he is, packed full of emotions and power neither of them know what to do with.
"We're gonna be okay, Scottie," she says to him, but mostly to herself. "All we have to do is stick together – me, you, and Stiles. We'll be okay."
Scott nods against her shoulders. They stand like that for who knows how long after, just two very lost and very scared kids holding onto each other for dear life. Scott doesn't cry like Shay expects him to; it isn't surprising that he doesn't. Scott's never been much of a crier – not even when his mom left his dad or when he got his asthma attacks. It's always Shay crying and Scott's there to comfort her while Stiles tries (and fails) to help in the background. She thinks maybe she should hate Scott for that, for always being the strong one. Hopefully with these new-found abilities, she could be the strong one for once.
When the finally let go of each other, they start walking. It's aimless and they have no real destination but Shay doesn't want to go home just yet. Scott doesn't protest, just let's Shay lead him by the hand. The sun does start to rise at one point. She frowns at the brightening sky but doesn't make to head home. She asks Scott about his arm instead. He shows her the wound, a dime sized hole now, but he says it used to be round like a penny.
"What happened to you?" Shay demands.
"Caught up with Derek Hale. And some hunters."
"Like…werewolf hunters?"
"Yeah, something like that."
Shay pauses. "Derek Hale."
"It's complicated."
"Scott- "
The familiar rumble of Stiles' jeep has them both stopping to turn. Shay smiles in relief as the blue jeep drives their way. He'd been looking for them. The gesture leaves her chest feeling tight and warm. Stiles opens the door as he parks beside them and goes to say something, but stops at the sight of Shay and Scott's linked hands. Shay raises an eyebrow at him. Stiles glances at their hands one more time before pushing back the passenger seat and letting Shay slip in the back. Scott hops in after her, silently accepting the jacket Shay finds in the car and hands to him. It stays quiet for a good ten minutes before Scott shifts to look back at Shay with sad eyes.
"You know what actually worries me the most?"
Stiles huffs from behind the wheel. "If you say Allison, I'm gonna punch you in the head."
Scott ignores him and groans. "She probably hates me now."
"No, she doesn't," Shay sighs.
"But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology," Stiles cuts in," or you could tell her the truth and, you know, revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you guys are freaking werewolves!"
He gets nothing but silence from the two, meeting Shay's unimpressed stare from the rearview mirror. "Okay, fine."
"Stiles, this is serious," Shay chides. "We turned into monsters last night. We could have hurt someone. Hell, Scott went bonkers the second you said Allison's name."
"You went bonkers, too, Shay," Stiles argues back. "And I am taking this seriously! There are serious thoughts of keeping you guys locked up and feeding you both mice!"
Shay laughs at the sincerity of Stiles' whines and lets her head drop to lie against his shoulder as he drives. It's a surprise when he puts his cheek over her head but she doesn't say anything, just lets him drive her and Scott back to Scott's house. There, they both shower and dress, Scott giving her clothes she'd left there over the years.
"You actually kept these here?" Shay asks, pulling one of Scott's sweaters over her head.
"What else was I supposed to do with them?" he says, shrugging.
On Scott's bed, Stiles grumbles and says something about 'stupid sleepovers'. He tosses Shay's phone over to her with a quick," You're in trouble." When she turns the screen on, there's at least five missed calls and fifteen texts. All from her mother. Shay feels her heart plummet.
"What am I gonna do?"
"We'll figure something out," Stiles says sullenly. "C'mon. Let's go before we're late."
.
.
.
Arriving at school, Shay sees her mother's car parked in the faculty spaces. Feeling both guilt and fear taking over her body, Shay lets Scott and Stiles hurriedly guide her into the school and to her first period.
"Try not to go crazy while we're gone," Stiles says, half joking and half serious.
"No promises," Shay replies. They both hug her before darting down the hall to their own class room.
Margo gives her a relieved smile when she walks into their first period, waving shyly from their corner.
"H-How are you feeling, Shay? Were you sick?"
Shay sees the entire night flash before her eyes. "Better. It was just… a small fever, or something."
Margo nods with a smile, passing her neat, color-coded math notes. Shay thinks that this girl is amazing. They'd only known each other for – what? A day or two? – and she's already saving her ass. Shay reaches over to playfully ruffle up Margo's hair, making the timid girl's face heat up.
The way Margo tries to keep up conversation and sits with her and the boys during their next two classes makes up for the angry look she gets from her mother as they run into with her in the halls.
"Shannon Jansen!" her mother cries when she catches sight of her. Scott, Stiles, and Margo all backpedal and huddle together as Shay faces her mother's anger. "Where were you this morning?! I ate breakfast alone and when I went to your room, you were gone!"
Shay holds up her hands in surrender, floundering as she scrambles for an excuse. "M-Mom! Don't freak, okay? Uh, see, I was, uh-"
"We picked her up!" Stiles puts in quickly, smiling at Beth Jansen when she fixes her eyes on him. "I did, actually. In my jeep, I mean. So that Mrs. McCall could look her over for, uh, lacrosse today!"
"Yeah, Mrs. Jansen," Scott insists, voice borderline desperate," you know how much lacrosse means to her! Stiles picked her up and brought her to my house so my mom could check her out to see if she could play. My mom said everything was okay, so…" He trails off, clearly out of ideas.
The only person left to speak stands just a little behind the three of them.
All sets of eyes land on Margo. She opens and closes her mouth, reddening under the stares. Beth looks at her and Margo forces a smile. "H-Hi. I'm M-Margo. I'm Shay's friend."
Her mother narrows her eyes for a moment before smiling and kissing her forehead. "My little goalie, making new friends! And a girl, no less. Finally! You should have told me! All this fussing for nothing. Next time just give me a heads up that you're leaving. You know I have no problem with you visiting Scott's house."
Shay gives her mother a nervous smile. "Yeah, sorry, mom. Just got caught up in the moment, I guess."
"I'm sure you'll do great at practice today, sweetie." Her mother pecks her head one last time before making shooing motions at the four of them. "Now, go on. Get to class. Knowledge is power."
"Yes, ma'am," Stiles salutes, making Beth laugh.
The day passes easily after that. Scott, Stiles, Shay, and Margo all sit beside each other in their shared classes, Shay pulling Margo to sit with them during lunch. She doesn't bring up how Margo insists on sitting at the very end of the cafeteria, the farthest table away from the one Jackson and his group are sitting at. From where she sits, she can still see him just fine, so she says nothing.
At the end of the day, Shay says goodbye to her mother with a promise to go straight home after practice. Margo also leaves, wishing the three of them luck before disappearing into the backseat of an expensive car. They wave at her until the car is gone, Stiles and Shay racing to the locker rooms as Scott goes to talk to Allison. The coach assures her angrily that no one else took her spot – "Everyone on this team sucks in comparison. Greenburg even tried to talk me into making him goalie, the idiot." The team greets her from the boys' locker room door way with smiles and waves. Even Jackson nods at her, although a little stiffly. Shay ignores the butterflies that explode in her stomach and smiles wide. She waves back at him happily. Stiles gags somewhere in the background as he grabs his pads.
Alone in the girl's locker room, Shay sits for a second on the bench, taking it all in. She's still on the team, still has that fluttering feeling for Jackson, still has Scott and Stiles right beside her. As she takes off her clothes and replaces it with the light yet sturdy lacrosse uniform, Shay promises that nothing will change. Just because she's changed doesn't mean the world has.
.
.
.
She's the first out of the locker room. Shay makes for the door leading out to the field when she hears a faint, "Shay" coming from the other end of the hall. She turns at the sound of her name and sees Scott, still in his other lacrosse uniform. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly open, moving with unsaid words. He looks outright distraught. Shay jogs his way.
"Scottie? Hey, buddy, you okay?"
He continues to mouth inaudible words, eyes flickering to different spots on the floor. Shay reaches for his shoulder, shaking him just a little.
"Scott, what's wrong? Is everything okay with Allison?"
The mention of the other girl makes Scott blink and finally look up at Shay. His expression turns from worried to panicked.
"No." With that, he pushes past her and hurries into the boy's locker room. Shay continues to stand there, feeling a little worried herself now. Whatever happened with Allison Argent, it could not have been good.
Oh Scott.
[A/N: Hey there! Welcome back and thanks for reading. Sorry this chapter is shorter than the first, but this is the second half of the first episode. Usually each chapter will be half an episode. Reviews mean the world to me!]