Apparently Andy's a senior at Beacon Hills; he tells me he recognizes me from the lacrosse team. "I don't want to seem too cheesy, but how is someone as cute as you here all alone?" He asks me and I can't hide my blush, "um, I came with my friends, but they kind of ditched me," I tell him, embarrassed. I must seem so lame to him. "That's so rude," he tells me, shaking his head, "if I were them I'd never leave you out of my sight." My blush deepens, and he gently takes my hand. "Can we talk outside?" he asks me, "I can hardly hear myself think with this music." "Sure," I tell him, nodding in agreement, and he brings me down the block so we can sit in the back of his pick up truck.
I jolt from my sleep in hysterics, screaming my head off. My dad bursts into my room, and wraps his arms around me, whispering soothing words, but I begin flailing from his arms. It takes a good few minutes to calm me from my screams, and then I'm just shaking as tears silently fall down my face.
My father sighs and stares at me for a moment, "you know, those screams are the most I've heard from you this past month." He seems worried, but also a bit annoyed that he can't seem to be getting through to me.
"I just really wish you would tell me what's going on with you lately." He finished, and I can't meet his eyes. He sighs once more before going back to his room.
I pull my covers back over my body, but my efforts to fall back asleep are fruitless and I find myself staring at the clock and literally watching the hours tick by.
When my alarm goes off, I immediately get out of bed, yawning and get ready for school. My days were pretty lonely now, we had been back to school for about a month and I could count the amount of times I had interacted with my (ex) friends on one hand. But at least Danny offered me a lunch table, and the bullying had died down a bit. It had also taken new forms, however. Such as hate notes stuffed into my locker.
School went about the same as usual, and I was sitting at my lunch table drawing in the back of my notebook when I felt someone breathing down my neck and I immediately turned around, eyes wide.
"Sorry," Danny chuckles, scooting into the seat next to me, "mind if I take a look at those drawings you're always working on?" I shrug and slide my notebook over to him and he begins flipping through the pages.
A tree, an angelic woman emerging from a tree, hands trying to reach towards the tree, a tree glowing while surrounded by darkness.
"These are really good, and really….arbor-y." I smile at him as he passes the notebook back.
"Have you ever thought about taking AP? The auditions are next month I think."
I shake my head. I was in AP Lit and AP Stats currently, but those were more generic classes. I always imagined AP art as something for people who wanted to be artists when they grew up.
"Well, you should think about putting a portfolio together, you'd be a shoe in." Danny tells me before taking a bite of his apple and joining Eric and Conner (two of the other lacrosse boys I sat with) in their conversation.
At the end of the day I drive to Derek's loft with some research on ritualistic sacrifices I had promised for him. I guess we were friends now-ish? I mean I spent a lot of time at his loft, but we didn't really interact while we were there. But he also didn't seem to mind my presence, which was a huge step up from when we first met.
He was seated on his ouch reading Catcher in the Rye (a recommendation from myself) when I slid the front door open, he told mea few days ago not to bother knocking since he could smell me a mile away.
I handed him my research as I made my way to the table, and he nodded his head in a wordless thank you.
I was just finishing up with my homework when Derek slammed the book shut.
"That was very angsty, makes sense you'd recommend it since you're going through this 'I hate the world phase'" He tells me with an amused smirk, which he immediately drops upon seeing my face. I tried to hide the pained expression, but it's getting harder and harder to keep things bottled in.
"I'm just joking." He tells me, and this if further proof into how Derek and I are maybe sort of friends now, because in the past he wouldn't punch me or some shit.
I just sigh and nod, wishing someone would just get that I'm not just mopey because I have shitty friends. Maybe it would make sense for me to just be normal and tell people what's wrong, but it's so much more complicated than that.
I hate the fact that I'm afraid to speak, I hate what makes me afraid, I hate it.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply a few times before flipping to the back of my notebook.
I the tree, with chains wrapped around it and birds flying from it.
Derek finishes reading over the research I brought him.
"I'm gonna have to go over this with the pack, so I'll host a meeting on Friday." He tells me, and I nod, trying to hide my frustration. Even though it was Monday and I had all week to prepare for it, I really wasn't looking forward to seeing the rest of the pack. Things had gotten a bit better with us. I mean, Lydia didn't glare anymore, and Scott would give me shy smiles in the hallway, and Isaac would even wave, but I think that's because he's gotten so used to seeing me at the loft. We still weren't friends and it was still painful. I hadn't seen them all in the same room since the last pack meeting, and I was hoping that this one would go better than that.
"Want some coffee?" Derek asks, breaking me from my train of thought.
"I have decaf." He adds and I nod gratefully, not mentioning the fact that A) werewolves aren't effected by caffeine, and B) He never had decaf before.
"How do you take it?" Derek asks, stirring some milk into his own cup.
"Black." I mumble, walking to him and grabbing the mug.
We silently sip our coffee and then I go home.
My dad makes it home before me this time, but doesn't question where I was. He probably (hopefully) assumes I was at Scotts.
We eat our dinner in silence and I head upstairs and get ready for bed. The next day is going about as smoothly as every other day, when, in the middle of Econ class, I'm called to go to the guidance counselor.
I feel all eyes on me; Scotts are practically drilling holes in my back, as I grab my backpack and head to the front of the class and then out the door, maneuvering through the halls until I make it to the guidance counselor. I honestly have no clue why I'm being called here, it's not like my grades have dropped or anything.
Ms. Morrell smiles coyly as I take a seat across from her.
"Hello Mr. Stilinski, long time no see."
I nod a hello, and wrack my fingers against the arm of the chair, wondering why I'm here.
As if she can read my mind, Morrell answers, "don't worry, this meeting isn't anything scary," is that her sly way of saying it's not about something supernatural? "You're here because several teachers have voiced concerns. Milczacy, why must you withhold speech?"
The way she asked it sounded like she was reading off a beginner's script in Psychology 101, bonus points for her using my given name. I glared at her before grabbing my backpack and storming from the room. I dashed down the halls before finding solace in the janitor's closet I had my panic attack in earlier. I balled up my hoodie and pressed it against my mouth, muffling my scream. I cry myself dry and head to my jeep. I feel bad for yet again ditching Spanish, but the idea of being in school right now makes me feel sick. This probably isn't going to help my case when it comes to not needing counseling, but whatever.
I drive to Derek's loft as per usual.
"Ditching again?" He greets me, and I roll my eyes.
"You smell really angry," out of context that sentence is pretty funny "and like…saltwater. Have you been crying?" I subconsciously wipe my face, outing my secret.
"What, uh, what happened?" He asks, obviously struggling trying to comfort me.
"I didn't call the cops because I was jealous of Brandon." I blurt out and Derek looks shocked at me actually talking.
"I know." He tells me and I don't question it.
"Something happened at the party that made me call the cops." Once I opened my mouth I couldn't stop talking.
"What happened?" Derek asks and I shake my head.
"They called me to the counselors office." I gasp out, getting off topic.
"What did Morrell say?" And I realize that he thinks this is something supernatural.
"She asked me why I don't talk. Apparently my teachers are concerned."
Derek tilts an eyebrow, "well why don't you talk?" He asks and I start sobbing uncontrollably.
I don't even flinch when he wraps me in his arms.
(Longish) A/N: Thank you again for the reviews! You have no idea how grateful I am for them. I totally bombed a math test today and was pretty upset, but when I came home and read them they helped brighten up my day Also, I know that in most high schools (or at least when I was in high school…so long ago…way back in ye olden days, aka Class of 2013, you had to take intro art and then on -level before AP, but I wrote it in the story that you just have to be hella good for AP at BHHS, lol) . And for the counseling scene with Morrell, I took the "why must you withheld speech" from Skins. On their website on Effys season 1 profile she talked about how her counselor asked her that. I know most people use Genim as Stiles' first name bc of the file we saw in one episode, but Jeff said on twitter that's not it, (he could've been lying though) so I think of Genim as his middle name. Jeff says Stiles' name is Polish, so I tried looking for Polish names that mean silent, but couldn't find any, so I translated the word silent to Polish, and Stiles' name was born, fun facts: Catcher in the Rye is my favorite book, and I drink my coffee black (though I'm more of a tea person)…ANYWAY, the grand reveal should be next chapter wooo, I hope for those of you who haven't read/seen Speak, it's a good reveal, or somewhat surprising, etc.. And finally, to quote the great Malia Tate, "I hate math."