The rest of the first week went by without a hitch. I was made a co-captain on cheer (much to Lydia's dismay) and Scott made first line on lacrosse. Stiles was being the support best friend but I could see the wheels turning in his head. I had thought the ridiculous werewolf discussion was over until after school on Friday when Stiles walked me to the jeep.
"How much do you know about lycaons?"
"What?" I grinned, "You're not serious, right?"
"Fully serious." He countered, expecting a real answer from me.
"Uh, only what I've seen on Buffy or read in Twilight." I shrugged. "So, not much."
"Come on, Mase. You major in, like, everything." He pleaded.
"I major in nonfiction. Werewolves don't exist. Scott's not a werewolf. End of story." I said plainly, getting my point across, "So, drop it."
He huffed but obeyed. I knew he wasn't going to drop it and I couldn't help but wonder if he was jealous of Scott's newfound popularity and achievements. We didn't speak until he arrived at my house and I was already out of the car.
"So, have you changed your mind about the party?"
"I survived the week, didn't I?" I cracked a smile. "I'm going with Scott."
"I thought he was going with Allison." Stiles blurted. I raised an eye brow, just staring at him.
"Yeah, I'm going with both of them." I mused.
"Well, see you there." He said distantly, staring out the windshield.
He drove off before I could answer him. "Bye, then." I massaged my temple, feeling a Stiles-related headache coming on.
"Mom, I'm not having the safe sex talk with you!" Scott cried, laughing slightly. I was sprawled out over Scott's bed watching him and his mom bicker.
"Oh no, I was talking about keeping the tank full! Give me those back," She snatched the keys out of his hands. I willed Scott to stop talking.
"I'm not going to end up on some TV show about my son's teen pregnancy!" She announced giving him a stern motherly look that made my heart hurt a little. I watched the comical mother-son scene unfold before me and I could help but chuckle. I don't think I've heard Scott complain about his mom in the nine years I've known him and that was probably the sweetest thing about him. Observing him and his mother is the only time I ever missed my mom. I usually blocked out that memory, a trait I learned from my father.
"Be safe," Mrs. McCall kissed her son's forehead as she looked sternly at each of us.
"Always are, Mrs. McCall." I assured her.
She hugged me lightly, "How many times have I told you to call me Jennifer?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." I waved my hand in the air evasively. She barked out a laugh.
"Home before eleven-thirty." She disappeared out his door before Scott could argue a later time. Scott stood in his room, his mouth opened with a response that never got released, dressed in nothing but a towel.
"Put some pants on," I chucked the outfit I had picked out for him to wear on his first date. He rolled his eyes but complied.
He came out of his bathroom again fully clothed. "Damn," I mocked into my hand, pretending to check him out.
"Shut up," He guffawed but blushed anyway.
"Let's go get your girlfriend." I teased, throwing the keys at him (which he caught with oddly fast).
"She's not my—" He argued.
"Shhhh," I shook my head, holding up a finger to his lips, "Don't speak."
The party was in full swing when we arrived. I spotted Stiles jeep a few cars down. I said my good-byes to the adorable couple and headed off into the booming house stag. Some Black Eyed Peas remix was blaring from the speakers as kids were dancing, or drinking out of red paper cups. I scanned the crowd for Stiles but came up empty.
Feeling a little claustrophobic and annoyed of being bumped everywhere I went in the house; I stepped out into the yard. The scene was the same but the music was less intruding and there was more room to walk.
I looked around expectantly for Stiles, but someone else caught me eye: Derek Hale. He was staring intently at someone standing a few feet away from me. I turned my head to see Scott in a staring contest with Derek. Allison was smiling and talking with Lydia until she noticed Scott's stiff presence. She nudged him, asked him something, and his attention went back to her. I looked up at the gate and Derek had disappeared into thin air.
I shot up and jogged to the iron gate he had just vanished from. I pushed it open with a unnoticed squeak and rushed out into the street. There was a street of nice houses on one side of the street and a park leading into more forest. I could hear Stiles and Scott's warning ringing in my head but I pushed forward into the street, the only light was the yellow street lamps.
I reached the play ground before the adrenaline began to fade and I was left alone in the outskirts of the forest. I could hear the faint pumping music and I was praying silently that Scott had seen me leave. The playground seemed to be alive with invisible children: the swings were swinging back and forth as the merry-go-round was slightly twirling around. I was cursing at myself for coming out here in the dark, alone. I wasn't even sure why I had tried to follow Derek or what I would do if I ran into something sinister out here.
I turned to head back to the party, chills radiating through my body, when I realized someone was watching me. Derek was suddenly standing in front of me, causing me to let out a screech of terror and clutch my heart.
"What are you doing out here?" He demanded, his expression hidden in the dark.
I gulped for air, trying to get my heart to rest, "Sorry, you just scared the shit out of me."
He didn't respond, I could only imagine his stony expression.
"When did you get back in town?" I questioned timidly.
"Why?" He grunted, stepping closer.
"Just wondering," I mumbled, "You've been gone for ten years and now you suddenly come back into to town."
"Something came up." He replied shortly, crossing his arms.
I remained silent for a few moments, wondering what could possibly have come up to make him come back.
"I never got to say thank you," I continued cautiously. He cleared his throat suddenly; his arms fell limply to his sides as he clutched his fist in tight balls. "Before you left…."
"Don't mention it," He said gruffly.
"You saved my life," I sniffed, taking a seat on one of the swings for something to do.
"I remember," He said dangerously, obviously wanting this conversation to end.
"You didn't have to," I coaxed.
"I know." He said shortly, his figure was trembling slightly.
"Why did you?" I should have just left it alone.
"Should I have left you there to die," He growled, "Like my whole family, like your mother."
I sucked in a ragged breath as if to take back the question I'd asked. "No," I countered in a small voice.
"Then, let's leave it at that." He threatened. When I didn't respond he strutted away, still clutching his fists.
"Thank you," I called after him. He halted, almost as if he was going to say something, but he thought better of it and headed back up to the street.
I sat in the dark for ten more minutes, calming myself down. Seeing Derek was like loosing my mom all over again. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my face from my hands. It was probably time to leave. I didn't want to Scott getting in trouble, so I picked myself up off the swing and headed back to the party.
The party was still going on when I slipped back in through the gate. I grabbed a cup and sipped it, feeling thirsty. I choked a bit when I realized someone had spiked the drinks. Wiping my mouth I set the drink back down on the table, looking around.
"Where the hell have you been, Mason?" Stiles barked, grabbing my arm to face him. His countenance was frighten and agrivated.
I threw his hand off me, fury rising in me, "What the fuck, Stiles!"
Some people were starting to stare.
"Something's wrong with Scott!" He whispered urgently, notices the looks we were getting.
"What did he turn into a werewolf?" I growled sarcastically. Stiles, however, sent me a meaningful look.
"He was dancing with Allison and all the sudden he was running through the house sweating and trembling. I think he's sick, or something," Stiles worried.
"Did he go home?" I fretted.
"I think so," He replied, grabbing my hand he continued, "Let's go check on him."
As he pulled me through the house, I noticed Allison was just not leaving, "He didn't take Allison home?"
"No, I told you, he just bolted outta here!" We were almost out the door when I saw that Derek was the one escorting Alison home.
"What's he doing?" I observed, stopping Stiles. He looked to where I was pointing too.
"I don't know," He said, scrunching his face in contemplation.
We sped all the way home. Stiles was only thinking about helping his best friend. I watched Stiles' determination the whole ride to Scott's, mostly because I was going to be sick if I looked outside.
The second we arrived at Scott's house, Stiles chucked himself out the door and sprinted into his house. I followed close behind.
"Scott, open the door!" Stiles cried, banging on his bedroom door, "It's us!"
"Go away," He moaned from the other side of the door.
"Scott, what's going on?" I begged, pounding on the door as well.
The door opened allowing a sliver of light to slip into his room. "Let us in, Scott! I can help!"
"No!" He was breathing heavily, "Listen, you gotta find Allison!"
"She's fine. We saw her get a ride from the party." I assured him.
"She's totally fine." Stiles said.
"I think I know who it is," Scott panted.
"Scott, just let us in," I pleaded.
"I can help you!" Stiles repeated.
"It's Derek! Derek Hale's the werewolf!" Scott cried, grunting slightly, "He's the one who bit me! He's the one who killed the girl in the woods!"
Things were starting to make sense. Derek had come to town and the next thing anyone knew, a girl was murdered in the woods.
There was a slight problem, though. Stiles caught my eye, looking horrified.
"Scott, Derek Hale is the one who took Allison home from the party." There was silence and then the door slammed shut again. Stiles grabbed the handle, trying to pry it open.
He punched the door, "Scott?"
I heard his window open, "Scott!" Stiles yelled.
"He's gone, Stiles," I yanked on his jacket sleeve. "We gotta go to Allison's to make sure she's not there."
We booked it to Allison's house and I rang the door bell repeatedly as Stiles banged on the door.
A pretty middle-aged woman with a pixie cut opened the door, "Can I help you?" She asked, clearly affronted.
"Hey, hi, Mrs. Argent," I panted, out of breath from all the running, "We're friends of your daughter, Allison—"
"This is gonna sound crazy," Stiles laughed mechanically, "Really crazy actually, you probab—"
"Allison!" Her mother called up the stairs, "It's for you."
Stiles and I looked at each other, baffled out of our mind about what was happening. Those feelings intensified when Allison showed up by the banister, looking perplexed.
Hey, guys," She waved, "What's going on?"