Chapter Three: Pack Mentality

I had dance practice that morning. I practiced for the showcase coming up in a few months. It was the one place I could truly think.

Stiles had texted me the details about Scott's dream and what had happened to the bus.

I spun letting the skirt of my leotard flare around me.

Scott had hurt someone. How would ever fix this?

I twisted gracefully to the floor and rolled.

Would our lives ever get back to normal?

"Arisa," a voice barked. I jerked and lost my footing. I collapsed to the cool floor and looked around.

There was no one in the room. Cold skittered across my skin and I shivered.

No, our lives would never get back to normal.

After the excitement of the day, lunch was welcome. Stiles, Scott and I sat at our normal table. They filled me in fully on the dream and the man who had been carried out.

"Dreams aren't memories Scott," I soothed.

"But it wasn't a dream," he protested, "Something happened last night." I fell silent as they continued to discuss it.

Suddenly Lydia sat at our table; soon after, the rest of the popular gang joined us, including Jackson. Stiles fumbled for words as Scott and I looked around in surprise. I stared down at my lunch and tried not to get involved in the conversation. My head was starting to hurt and I closed my eyes trying to block out the light that suddenly seemed to bright. Chatter filled the air around me and I rubbed my temples.

"Hey, are you ok?" Stiles asked.

"I have a headache. I'm going to go lie down," I told him getting up and leaving my untouched tray behind.

I ran outside where I could breathe. The air was tainted by the smell of coppery blood. I walked away from the crime scene towards the lacrosse field. I found a space away from the couples kissing and tried to focus. It felt like my skin was buzzing and my headache was just getting worse. I sighed and lay down feeling the cool metal against my back. I stared up at the pale sky and tried to relax.

It didn't help. My skin was trembling so badly that I was involuntary moving across the bench. My breathing sped as my chest started to get tight. My head was hurting to badly that I couldn't even see. I clenched my hands into fists feeling my nails bite into my palm.

"Stop," I gasped jerking upright.

Everything did.

I looked around feeling as though the very earth had stopped revolving.

I heard a crunching sound and everything snapped back to normal. I looked around wildly and saw that the end of the bench had folded in on itself. I stared at the lump of metal.

I felt normal again. My headache was gone and the buzzing had stopped. I took a deep breath and looked back at the sky.

"What's happening?" I whispered.

That night I took dad dinner at the station.

"I brought you Chinese food. Don't tell Stiles or he'll have my head. I know he wants you to start eating healthier," I announced. He smiled wearily at me as I placed the food on his desk.

"Thanks sweetheart," he told me. I sat down across from him and noticed the lines on his face.

"Dad, you're working too hard," I murmured, "You need to get some rest."

"I'll rest when these murders stop," he replied. I pulled his papers away from him.

"Dad, I'm worried about you," I told him truthfully. He sighed and put them away before he started to eat.

"Thanks," I murmured. We ate quietly in his office. We didn't talk about anything. Stiles was like mom. They had always liked talking and noticing everything in the world around them. I had always been more like dad, quiet and reserved.

"How's dance practice going? I know you have that big showcase coming up," he asked. I smiled glad he had remembered.

"It's good. I'm almost done with my whole routine. I just need an ending," I told him eating a piece of sesame chicken.

"I'm proud of you. I'm going to be there for your showcase," he told me.

"Thanks dad," I replied softly.

I went home and into my room. I fell onto my bed and tried to relax. My ceiling was painted a soft pale purple, my favorite color. The walls were pale green. My room was calming and exactly what I needed right now. Everything was so messed up right now. Scott was a werewolf. Stiles was sucked into it. I had to deal with it. I couldn't let Stiles get hurt, even for Scott. Even though I was technically younger by a few minutes, I had always felt responsible for him. I sighed and sat back up. I could figure this out. I wasn't a genius like Stiles but I was smart.

I could ask Derek for advice. He was a werewolf and even if he did kill that bus driver like Scott believed, I needed advice. After all, how did you deal with your brother's best friend turning into a werewolf?