"You're such a tool." Rory fumed, shooting a death glare at Alex.
"You can't even drive!" Alex retorted, making sure his seatbelt was on properly, he was in no mood to be sent flying through the windscreen when Rory crashed. The two brothers were headed home from their first day of school, a sweaty Rory and a freshly showered Alex bickering as the little red jeep trudged down the street.
"Turn, turn!" Alex sunk back into his seat, resigning himself to the fact that they would never get home, and to the fact that he may very well be dead in the next few minutes. "Did you get the wits beaten out of you during soccer?"
"It's better than freaking lacrosse," Rory gave Alex's arm a punch, wishing his brother hadn't been heckling him so he could have jumped in the shower. After gym class Alex had hung around for Rory at the school gates, finally going inside to look for him and finding him playing soccer on the fields out back with some guys he had made friends with. Sam, with a cheery flip of her blonde hair, had informed Alex she had no space in her car, her and three girlfriends (told you she was a social butterfly...) were going out after school. He had hung around on the bleachers till Rory was done, practically shoving him into the car so they could get going.
"Go left, this is right! What are you doing?!" Alex turned in his seat to look back at the turn off Rory had purposely missed, going the complete opposite direction just to annoy Alex.
"Shut up and maybe I'll get us home." Rory cranked up the radio to block Alex's protests, bobbing his head along to the music – irritating Alex even further – as he finally got on the right road. Alex closed his eyes and tried to block out the annoying music (he thought Rory had crap taste) and instead let his thoughts wonder back to his first day of school.
It occurred to him that it should definitely be considered a success. The day had gone off without a hitch, for the most part. Okay, there was the embarrassing incident in English and the outfit he had to wear for Gym, but overall it had been pretty great. He wasn't sure if the people he had hung out with at lunch could really be classed as 'friends' right now, but he was definitely going to join them again tomorrow, hopefully they wouldn't push him off the table and ignore him. He had four new numbers in his phone: Jackson, Scott, Allison and Danny, an offer to officially try-out for lacrosse if he could improve, and an offer to try-out for track; a team he knew he'd have no problem getting onto. If his next door neighbour hadn't been glaring at him in the locker rooms it could have been perfect.
Stiles had been giving him evils all the way through practice. The guy had been fine - great even - at lunch, but as soon as Alex started getting attention from the coach and the other players he had became a pariah to Stiles. Alex didn't know if the guy was jealous or he just didn't like him, but he just hoped he wouldn't try and start anything.
The blaring of a horn and the feeling of his neck swinging forward jolted an oblivious Alex from his thoughts, looking up with pain and anger flashing across his face to find Rory frantically beeping the horn, sticking his head out of the window and shouting at the car in front of him. Alex's driveway and Stiles' driveway were side by side, separated by a small wall overgrown with hedges, and both cars had gotten jammed as they tried to turn into respective driveways at odd angles, resulting in Stiles' jeep being slammed against their wall, and the front of Rory's car narrowly avoiding a crash with the side of Stiles' car.
"Are you kidding me!?" Stiles' head was stuck out of the window, glaring at Rory, his expression getting even darker when he noticed Alex.
"Fuckwad! Get the fuck out of my way!" Rory screamed as Alex snorted beside him – clearly he had anger issues.
"It was your fault!" Stiles yelled back.
"I'll smash your face in! Move!"
"Rory." Alex grunted, hoping his brothers new found – that was the understatement of the year, the guy had been angry since he hit the big one eight – anger didn't extend to physical violence. Stiles seemed to back off when confronted with the idea of actually being hit, grumbling with as much confidence as he dared muster and backing out, hood scraping against Rory's.
"Asshole. Who is that kid?" Rory asked, shooting a glance at Alex as he drove up their twisting drive. Alex had told his family the brief story of Uffie running up onto Stiles' drive on their first night, but Rory hadn't been interested then. Now he was very interested indeed.
"The sheriffs kid, so I wouldn't even go there." Alex replied with another snort of laughter. He felt bad for the guy, but hey, he had been giving him evils all through gym – he was glad his brother had given him a little scare.
"What's all this commotion?" A huffing aunt Helen was rooting through old boxes of family photos in the garage as they pulled in. Alex noted Sam's car was there – if she'd lied about not being able to give him a ride home he'd have to find some way to pay her back, maybe a frog in her bed or something along those lines.
"Ass face kid next door almost ruining my new car." Rory answered, slamming his way out of the jeep and trudging up the two steps to the door that led to a basement utility room. The garage was lower than the rest of the house, with the first floor built over it. Even through the thick floor Alex could hear blasting music, Azealia Banks he gathered, and guessed his mom was in the studio above doing some painting.
"I didn't see what happened." Alex said to Helen, putting his hands up and shrugging at her prying expression. She didn't believe it wasn't Rory's fault, the kid was always getting himself in trouble. "I had my eyes closed until we freaking crashed!" Alex continued, laughing to try and escape her raised eyebrows. "What are you doing anyway?"
"Trying to find those stories you wrote for me when you were little. I put them in one of these boxes and brought them over, my garage was all damp and everything was getting ruined." She picked up a family photo that was hardly visible any more due to the running ink and warped edges with a pained expression on her face.
"Please don't read them out." Alex stuck out his bottom lip, putting down his backpack and helping her sort through the albums.
"They were good," She protested, "but I won't read them. How was school?"
"Good, actually. I apparently need to work on catching with my crosse if I wanna make the team." She gave him a glance as he spoke.
"Since when were you into lacrosse? I thought track was your thing."
"Yeah, it is. But the people I was hanging out with all play lacrosse, so, you know." Alex shrugged, hoping she didn't think he was being dumb. He tried to explain, "I know I wasn't into it before, but I could just get into it, at least I won't be a loser. And Jackson – that's like the first person I met – wants to come round and see what cars we have, because grandma made Clive drop me off." Helen burst out laughing.
"You must have looked like an idiot," A grin spread across both their faces. "But Alex, you don't need to explain. There's nothing wrong with wanting to fit in." She gave him a soft smile, one which he returned in full. He had a feeling the rest of his family wouldn't be so understanding.
"You shouldn't have to be somebody you're not just because you want friends." Olga shook her head as if friends were something no one would ever need or want.
"Playing lacrosse isn't 'being somebody I'm not'." Alex replied, frowning. "It's just a sport."
"It's dumb." Rory added, shoving an apple into his mouth.
"- And this is the kitchen." Sam's voice added to the din as she showed the three girlfriends she had brought over the last stop on their tour.
"Hey girlies." Rory leered with a grin, an piece of apple hanging from the corner of his mouth, the girls discomfort obvious on their faces.
"My dumb brothers." Sam explained airily as she extracted cans of diet coke from the fridge. A secret smile passed between her and Alex just before she left the room; he knew she liked him really.
"I think you should do both if that's what you want." David, Alex's dad, said from his position at the kitchen table surrounded by two laptops and multiple open files, a pen clenched between his teeth. Alex had no idea what his father did, something with to do with buying independent stores and uniting them under a chain, he really wasn't too clear on the subject, but he seemed to be working non stop.
"Yes, do both." Olga agreed as she sliced up a carrot, slapping away a hovering Sammy who was dying to take over, Candice had instructed her to help in all cooking matters. "I'll let you do both, but I'm not having my son changing who he is to fit in." She kissed his cheek, throwing an apologetic smile over the counter.
"I'll never get a moment to relax." Alex complained, wondering how tired he was going to be from staying up to write. He usually liked to at least jot a few ideas down every day, usually late at night when he wrote best.
"You may not even make the team," Aunt Helen pointed out as she rooted through the fridge, putting down the chocolate and grabbing a stick of celery instead, "you said you needed to practice catching. I'll help if you like."
So help out she did. Alex had changed from his uniform into his favourite relaxing outfit of navy sweatpants and a grey t shirt, one that thankfully didn't cling to every inch of his body, and was running up and down the garden with a crosse that had been Rory's in his brief lacrosse period of 2010. They tested it out from every angle, the ball clanging off the high fence between the Payne and Stilinski gardens over and over as Alex missed most of the time. He caught it maybe five out of forty times, and one of those times resulted in a broken window when he attempted to launch the ball gently back into Helen's arms and ended up putting too much force into it, a yelping Helen rolling onto the grass with a huge thud as the ball sailed through the foliage at the end of the lawn and smashed the bathroom window of the guest house.
"At least you're good at throwing." Helen had grinned, rolling onto her back and laughing till her sides hurt.
"I'm never going to get it." Alex grumbled with a small smile on his lips, it was kind of funny after all. They were both over lacrosse by that point. It wasn't like coach had actually set a date for his trial, it was only day one, he assumed he had a few weeks to get the hang of it.
Dinner was the usual affair of bickering voices all trying to be heard above one another, made even worse because Candice was there, with one of her friends in tow.
"So Alex, how was school?" The woman asked, tilting her head to the side and giving him a smile.
"Good I guess." Alex replied, not really sure what to say. He didn't even know this woman.
"Mrs. Whittemore here has a son at Beacon Hills High." Candice informed Alex with a tight smile, mentally willing him to engage in the conversation more.
"Jackson?" Alex asked, remembering that his last name was the same as hers. Mrs. Whittemore perked up when she realised this boy – who she had thought seemed a little anti-social – knew her son. They soon got to talking all about him, about lacrosse, about Lydia, and about cars. The woman had a surprisingly decent knowledge of the things, probably given to her by her son.
"May I be excused?" Alex didn't wait for a reply, he was always allowed to leave, it was just a habit by this point. Dinner had been decent, but he was bored.
As he walked up to his room, flicking through his phone as he did, he considered calling or texting one of the kids from school, maybe seeing what Jackson was up too. But his mind was in a turmoil, was it too soon, would he look too eager? He flopped onto the bed with a groan, wondering what he had done to deserve such a hard life.
He tried occupying himself on the computer, watching a few videos, scrolling through a few boring websites, but he just wasn't in the mood for it. He rooted around on the shelves for a movie, finding hundreds of choices he enjoyed but always remembering the boring bits and throwing the case back into the pile. He couldn't concentrate on a book, didn't need a shower, and had no one to talk to save his family.
"Uffie!" Alex made a clicking noise with his tongue as he laid flat out on the bed, his head hanging upside down on the edge. "Oh, Mary Jane, you shouldn't!" He snorted as Uffie bounded into the room and started licking his upside down face. She was soon flying through the air as he grabbed her stomach and lifted her onto his chest, hoping she'd fall asleep; the dog going to sleep on him always made him sleepy too, and there really weren't many options but sleep.
"Stop being so hyper," He grinned, chasing her in circles around the rumpled sheets. A staring contest occupied him for five minutes, and he burnt off another five copying every move Uffie did; sticking out his tongue, tilting his head, pawing at his face. "I'm bored!"
It was as if the dog knew. Uffie ran out of the room with the wind in her step, returning five minutes later with the hot pink lead clamped between her teeth. Alex shrugged into a pair of jeans and added a sweatshirt over his grey t-shirt, shouting to deaf ears that he was taking Uffie out. It was early evening, the sun just beginning to disappear beyond the trees, and the perfect time for a dog walk.
He wished there was something he could do apart from walk Uffie, he loved her, but she wasn't really the best conversationalist.
"Why do you think Stiles hates me?" Alex asked Uffie as they ambled slowly along the pavement, headed towards the field a few blocks away.
She barked in response.
"Yeah I think he's a jealous idiot too." A grin spread across his face as he realised he was walking down the street talking to himself. What was his life coming too? White headphones were soon jammed into his ears to try and distract him from doing any more out loud musings, roaming in circles around the grass of the field he had finally reached as Uffie ran in circles and foraged around in the bushes.
There was a small playground to one side, with just three swings and a see-saw, but it was better than nothing. Sitting on the swing made him feel like he was a loner in some cheesy movie, so he tried to spice it up by cranking Kick It by Peaches up to maximum volume and throwing himself as high into the air as he could. The grin on his face got wider and wider as he climbed higher into the air with each swing, finally reaching what he supposed would be his most impressive height and vaulting from the seat, headphones flying out of his ears as he sailed through the air.
"Fuck!" The roll he had decided to lunge into at the end of his flying jump in some James Bond fantasy of his had resulted in a rock scraping across his back, ruining his whole super spy exit. Hobbling along the grass clutching the cut in his back, Alex threw himself down at the base of a tree to regain his energy, groaning when he felt the blood on his fingers.
At that moment Stiles decided to appear out of the trees, his clothes coated in mud, another pair of jeans all torn up.
"Fuck my life." Alex muttered, glancing up from under his lashes to give Stiles a glare.
"You." Stiles grunted, looking over the hunched frame of Alex at the base of the tree. He felt superior being able to stand over him, but it was soon replaced with a pang of worry in his stomach as he noticed the blood, looking around the clearing for what – or who – could have caused it.
"What?!" Alex asked, taking in the strange looks shooting from Stiles' eyes as they darted this way and that way around the clearing.
"Are you okay?" Stiles ignored Alex's question – it wasn't really something he could explain.
"Yeah." Alex grunted, he was in no mood to talk to this guy, he hadn't exactly been friendly during practice, now he was catching him while he was down.
"What happened?" Stiles asked, leaning down so he was on Alex's level. "Let me see," He insisted, trying to turn Alex's shoulders.
"You don't even like me," Alex grunted, glad he was bigger than this guy and would be able to fight him if it came to that, though he was actually being pretty nice, "why do you care about this dumb cut?" His back was actually in agony, but he wasn't willing to admit that to Stiles.
"You mean gym, right?" Stiles asked as Alex finally relented and let Stiles turn him around, lifting up his shirt so he could inspect the red gash. "This is pretty nasty." It would probably scar, Stiles thought as he looked at the four inch slice. It didn't seem deep enough to need stitches, though.
"Yeah, you were glaring at me."
"Just having a bad day I guess. Sorry." Stiles wasn't willing to elaborate on his real feelings of resentment towards this new guy who had showed up and managed to captivate everyone on the team – including Jackson, who still disliked Stiles after all these years – despite not even being a good player. Coach had gotten his name down perfect, it had taken him years to learn Stiles'.
"Why are you in the woods?" Alex finally asked the question that was bugging him, craning his neck and seeing mud smeared over Stiles' neck and forehead.
"No reason," Stiles smiled, trying to distract Alex, "why are you here?"
"Walking my dog." He looked around for Uffie, not seeing the little black mongrel anywhere. Stiles looked up at the sky, the full moon just beginning to brighten up, peeping through a cloud as the sun got lower and lower.
"Where is she?" Stiles glanced back through the woods he had came from. Panic spread across his face as he realised where they were, realised he wasn't home yet, this damn back was distracting him.
"Who knows," Alex shrugged casually, she always came back. Stiles fished his phone from his pocket frantically, his face a mask of worry. "What's up?" Alex frowned. "You're pretty strange, you know..." Alex felt his words were confirmed when Stiles jumped up from the grass and ran head first into the trees, back the way he had came.
A wolf howled in the distance, a torrent of barks joining the cry as the last sliver of the orange sun fell behind the trees.