The alarm on Lydia's nightstand buzzed incessantly until she finally reached a lazy arm over, tapping it a few times before it ultimately turned off. I sat up groggily, wiping my eyes as Lydia yawned.

"Maybe we should have gone to bed earlier last night," I said, only half awake, as Lydia threw the covers off of herself and trudged over to her wardrobe. We had fallen asleep at around 4am, after discussing what I would wear tomorrow, what Lydia would wear tomorrow, what a dick her ex-boyfriend Jackson was, and how her best friend Allison had been MIA for the past few days. It was mostly Lydia sharing, which I had no problem with. Personally, I was tired of sharing. And it was nice, having someone confide in you. It made me feel important to someone again.

"Eh. It was time well spent. Besides, we picked you out an outfit that is going to make you the talk of the school!" She shrugged her shoulder excitedly, before whirling around and sifting through her closet to find a jacket to go with the cream colored lace dress she had picked out for herself. I didn't mention that being the talk of the school was the last thing I wanted to be, but it was a cute outfit nonetheless, combining my own personal style with Lydia's expertise. I rolled myself out of Lydia's ridiculously large bed, walking over to the chair where she had laid out my clothes. I stepped into the off-white baby doll dress with lace along the bottom half of the skirt, pulling an oversized purple sweater over it. Lydia decided on a pink leather jacket, as I did up the laces on my combat boots.

She sat down at her vanity, gracefully brushing a pink lip gloss onto her lips, as I dug through my purse and emerged with my schedule. I looked it over, holding my head in my hands and resisting the urge I had to pull my hair out. How was I going to make it through the day? I had Lydia for a good portion of it, but she had other friends too. Particularly another best friend, who I needed to make a good impression on if I wanted to continue having friends. I let out a heavy sigh as Lydia finished applying her mascara, turning towards me with one last stroke of her wrist.

"Your turn," she sang, motioning me towards the chair.

"Oh, no, I don't really wear makeup that often…" I started, smiling sheepishly at her.

"And what better day to start than your first day of school?" She smiled at me, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to the vanity. I sat there like a Barbie doll, letting Lydia do whatever she wanted, because Lydia seemed like the type of person who liked to fix things. And I was in desperate need of fixing anyway. She kept it simple, applying a thin layer of eyeliner on my water line, and a very light and natural lipstick. We got our things together and piled into Lydia's car, making our way to school with Lydia talking animatedly the whole way, and me being relatively quiet, responding politely when appropriate. I was pleasantly surprised to find that while Lydia was a bit of a princess, she was actually really smart. Like extremely. I'm pretty sure she could be classified as a genius.

"Stop being nervous," she snapped suddenly, causing me to flinch in my seat.

"Who said I was nervous?" I countered, crossing my arms and trying my best to look calm and collected.

"Please, I can practically smell the anxiety radiating off of you. Just relax, or you're gonna psych yourself out." She rolled her eyes as she pulled into a parking spot, narrowly avoiding a group of lacrosse players who thought it would be a good idea to congregate in the parking lot. "Assholes," she muttered under her breath, before grabbing her purse, tossing her hair over her shoulder and emerging from the car. I sat there for a minute, reminding myself to take deep breaths. That was all I was allowed though, before Lydia was knocking on my window, motioning for me to hurry up.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car, grabbing my backpack on the way. Lydia linked arms with me and gave me what I assume was supposed to be a reassuring smile.

"Let's play the name game, shall we?" she grinned, bopping up the stairs dragging me along with her. "So that's Sadie, Maggie, Grace, Maxi, Cassie." She pointed as a group of girls walked past us, laughing and chatting excitedly. "Danny." she pointed to a tall and lean boy, with bronze skin, leaning up against the locker talking to another boy, equally as built, with lighter skin and spiked up brown hair. "Jackson." She motioned to him, clearing her throat, her lips in an annoyed pout as we halted at her locker. She quickly spun the dial, opening it and shoving all but one of her books in. "Hmm, Greenberg." I turned around, following her finger as I saw a boy's head disappear inside a classroom.

Across the hallway I noticed the lanky boy who seemed to have no control over his own limbs, the one that had almost ran me over last night. He was staring very blatantly at Lydia, throwing a few confused glances in my direction.

"Hey Lydia, I think you have an admirer." I motioned with my chin towards the boy as Lydia looked at him over her shoulder.

"Ah. That's Stiles." She nodded, closing her locker door before leaning her back against it. "And that's Allison, and her not-boyfriend Scott." She motioned towards the two brunettes who looked like it was paining them to stand more than a foot away from each other.

"You mean ex-boyfriend?" I raised an eyebrow, looking back at Lydia.

"No, I mean 'not-boyfriend.'" She held her hands up, exaggeratedly putting the term "not-boyfriend" in air-quotes. "They broke up a while ago, but…" She shrugged, her eyes scanning down the hallway. "And that's….actually I'm not sure what his name is. He's my neighbor though, apparently." She gestured down the hall, and I squinted to follow her aim.

"Which one?"

"That one. Right there. With the blue eyes, the one currently staring at us…?" She shook her head as if it were obvious, but still I saw no one. "He's the star player of the basketball team," she said, her voice sounding far away. For a moment my heart stopped, worried I was having another episode. But the world remained intact, and nothing started spinning. The voices in my head remained silent as I studied Lydia, who had gone pale.

"I thought lacrosse was the big sport played here?" I asked, resting my hand on her arm. "Lydia?"

"Right. Right yeah. Yeah it is. Sorry I don't…" She blinked, shaking her head slightly and looking up at me again. I knew those mannerisms all too well, and I squeezed her arm sympathetically. "Anyway," she sighed, and continued pointing out a few other people to me. I was temporarily distracted though.

"Hey," I said, holding out a hand to cut her off. She looked only slightly offended, following my gaze. "Who's that?" I kept my eyes fixed on the leather jacket he wore, green eyes flashing in my mind. But this jacket didn't belong to Derek. The boy stopped a few lockers away from us, a small smirk plastered on his face, as he ran a hand through his slightly unruly brown curls. No, this was decidedly not Derek.

"…Who? Isaac? Sweetie, no," Lydia said, shaking her head instantaneously.

"N-No? What do you mean no?" I stuttered, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks.

"We don't go there." She gave me a stern look, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

"We don't go th…? Lydia, no! I just wanted to know who he was." I laughed, rolling my eyes at her sudden accusation. I mean he wasn't the worst looking guy in the world, but typically guys didn't find having mind numbing flashbacks, crippling panic attacks and hallucinating your dead best friend to be particularly attractive. And there was something about him that just kept screaming Derek in my mind. Aside from their similar taste in fashion, Isaac also had an intimidation factor about him. There was something obviously dangerous about him, but at the same time I wanted him to look at me, and I couldn't understand why.

"Sure you did. Either way, Isaac Lahey is bad news. He only recently was released from police custody. Now come on, or you're going to be late for your first class." She spun on her heels, pulling my arm after her.

"Police custody?" I felt my eyes double in size, then return to normal. I wasn't exactly one to talk, since I could technically adopt the descriptive term of "murderer". "For what?"

"Hm, you know for someone who only wanted to know who he was, you seem awfully interested." She smirked, eyeing me as we turned the corner.

"You just told me the kid was arrested, you can't expect me not to ask why," I challenged, giving her a stubborn look of my own.

"He was a suspect in his father's murder case. Now enough with the questions, it's time to get to class. I'll meet you after class at my locker." She pushed me through the classroom door, making her way down the hall. Most of the seats were filled when I walked in, the bell on the precipice of ringing, so I decided to take an empty seat towards the back. I glanced around the classroom, looking for any faces that Lydia had pointed out to me that morning, or at least any of the ones I could remember.

Danny sat in the corner, his head slumped on his desk. Jackson sat in the seat next to him, tapping his foot repeatedly in time with his pen, giving me the completely irrational urge to walk over there, rip his pen out of his hand, and show him the proper use for pens, like maybe using it to impale him in the eye.

Lydia had told me all about Jackson all right.

Sadie sat a few rows to my left, idling scrolling on her phone, occasionally glancing up whenever someone passed her desk. I let out a heavy sigh, my pessimistic nature taking over as I dug out my notebook from my backpack. How was I going to suddenly insert myself into these friend groups that had probably been formed in kindergarten? I rummaged around the bottom of the bag looking for the pencil I had in there, unable to find it. With an exasperated roll of my eyes, I emptied the remains of my bag out onto my desk, noticing the small, chewed up pencil a second too late. I reached for it just as it bounced off of the edge of my desk, rolling down the aisle as I hung my head dramatically in shame.

A boy kneeled next to my desk, holding his hand out to me, pencil firmly in his grasp.

"Yours?" he smiled warmly at me, and I nodded, grinning back at him. I think Lydia had said his name was Scott?

"Yeah, thanks. Scott right?" I asked, taking a leap of faith and trying out this whole "making friends" thing.

"Yeah, Scott McCall. You're new right?" He held out his hand to me and I took it, slightly impressed with myself. Was making friends really this…I don't know, easy?

"Ryan Moore." Unlike almost anyone I had ever met, his smile didn't falter once, and instead of the usual "That's a boy's name" or "Your parents named you Ryan?" instead he just crept backwards to his seat.

"Cool. I hope Beacon Hills has been treating you well." I shot him another genuine smile, with teeth and everything, before his face suddenly became alarmed. I felt my smile drop, as fingertips trailed along the top of my desk, making their way to the back of the empty seat in front of me. My gaze travelled from his fingers, up his leather clad arm, his sleeves only slightly too long for him, to his face, that same smirk stuck on it like it was a permanent fixture. He sat down in front of me without a word as Scott practically gaped at him. I looked back and forth between the two a few times before picking up my pencil and deciding to trace the cover of my notebook instead of continuing to watch the homoerotic scene unfolding before my eyes.

I heard the loud squeak of sneaker soles on the tile, as a backpack was thrown to the ground and a body was thrown into a desk.

"I just talked to my dad, who just talked to Jackson, and I've got really, terrible, horrible, very very bad news," Stiles gushed out in a whisper. I peered up at him out of the corner of my eye, his head bent forward, his body stiff. In the seat in front of him, Scott turned towards him slightly, cutting him off.

"I think I already know." He gestured towards Isaac as the two of them stared, and I was beginning to wonder if there were any straight boys at this school. It took me a minute to actually process what Stiles had said, Lydia's words echoing in my head. Either way, Isaac Lahey is bad news .I rolled my eyes before looking at the two boys, my face the equivalent of a question mark. I silently weighed the pros and cons of being the nosy new girl, before shrugging and leaning over to them. Curiosity killed the teenage psychopath.

"I don't. What's the bad news?" I widened my eyes a bit and smiled, while Stiles quickly looked from me to Scott and back again.

"Who..? I'm-I'm sorry, who are you?" he squinted at me, before being hit with a sudden realization. "You're that girl who was with Lydia this morning aren't you? Are you like, her cousin or something? You guys don't really look that much alike. Did she-did she say anything to you? About me? Or about any nightly urges she's been having?" Scott smacked his arm as I stared at the kid as if he had suddenly sprouted three heads. He might as well have. "Okay, the look you're giving me tells me that's a no…"

"Yeah, that would be a no."

"Right…" he nodded to himself, before looking back up at me. "I'm Stiles."

"So I've heard," I said, still eyeing him warily. "I'm Ryan."

"Your name's Ryan?" Ah here we go.

"Your name is Stiles." I raised my eyebrows at him as Scott choked down a laugh.

"Stiles Stilinski," Scott added, as my eyebrows rose farther.

"Stiles Stilinski," I repeated, my hand resting on my chin as I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Hey, hey there is a perfectly good explanation for that." He raised a finger, pointing it at me first, then at Scott.

"Am I going to receive said explanation?" I asked, my mouth quirking up into a smirk.

"Um, well…No." he blinked, shaking his head. "So right, Ryan, nice name, very feminine, I like it." He sniffed, nodding his head and sinking down in his chair. The bell rang, echoing through the classroom, as a man in a button down shirt and tie made his way to the front of the room.

"Good morning class, before today's lesson I would just like to introduce our new student, Ms. Ryan Moore." The entire class turned to look at me, and for a split second I wondered if it was that obvious that I was the new student. I gave a half wave/half salute from my seat, smiling politely at the teacher, Mr. Johnson I think.

"Hi," I said lamely, wishing everyone would stop looking at me. Mr. Johnson began on his lesson, which I had already learned the week before. Since I was starting in the middle of the school year, my parents had requested that I have work sent home to us so I could be caught up when I started here. Little did I know, that by actually completing all of it, instead of caught up, I was now ahead of most of the curriculums. I instead continued to lazily trace over the sticker on the front of my notebook.

"I like your sticker." I glanced up to see ice blue eyes staring down at me. Isaac sat sideways in his chair, his hand reaching out to spin my notebook around to face him. His smirk seemed to turn into something more of him trying not to laugh as he ran his fingers over my "Bad Wolf" sticker.

"Thanks. It was-I mean, it's a friend's." I closed my eyes, mentally cursing myself. I hated talking about her in the past tense. It made me feel sick, and I could feel the slight tug at my sanity, as my mind threatened to throw me into an episode right here and now. No. I fought it down, forcing my thoughts away from that morning in English, when those awful girls made a song about how I looked like a boy. That morning when Casey marched over to my desk and stuck that sticker on my notebook, reminding me that what they said didn't matter because I was the baddest wolf of them all and that I could harness the power of a goddess and destroy a Dalek fleet if I really wanted to. I wouldn't think about how Casey was always the source of my strength, my rock through and through. I wouldn't do it.

When I opened my eyes, Isaac's face was inches from my own. I flinched back, startled as he let out a low chuckle, his eyes scanning over me in a way that made me feel like I might get sent to the principal's office for indecent exposure.

"Mm, do you have a lot of friends here? What with you being new and all?"

"Um, I have one or two," I mumbled, sliding my notebook back to me.

"You might want to consider making a few more," He said, his voice hushed but still managing to stir something up inside of me. I looked up at him, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion, as his eyes traveled from my notebook, up my arm, to my lips. He blinked, his eyes moving back to my own eyes as I stared at him suspiciously. What did that even mean? There was something about the way he said it, like there was an implication behind it that I wasn't sure I liked. "Some friends you're better off without. Just something to think about." He gave me a tight smile before the teacher coughed loudly.

"Mr. Lahey? Would you care to tell me the answer to this problem?"

"Plus or minus 12i." he answered, still looking at me. I stared at him hard, suddenly realizing why people seemed to be weary of this boy. His words, though extremely vague, seemed like a threat. He finally turned around, throwing a smile at Mr. Johnson, who stood there looking defeated.

"Very good." He muttered, turning back around to scribble on the board. I felt eyes on me still, and looked over at Scott and Stiles, who were staring at me so hard I thought they were going to give themselves a stroke.

"What?" I mouthed to them, as they both began furiously shaking their heads and holding their arms up as if to say "nothing". I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. Those two were a bit on the odd side. And that was coming from me.

I spent the rest of the period drawing in my notebook and trying not to nod off, absolutely thrilled to be back in school. As soon as the bell rang, students fled the classroom like ants in danger of being stepped on. I gathered my books up, shoving them into my bag before walking out of the room, trying to remember which way Lydia's locker was.

"Hey Ryan, how's it going?"

"Wasn't that math class just riveting?" Suddenly I was ambushed, surrounded by the dynamic duo, each boy grasping me by my arm and hurrying me down the hallway.

"So what was Isaac saying to you?"

"Does she know who Isaac is?" Stiles stopped short, one hand on Scott's shoulder. He turned to me abruptly, eyebrows shooting up. "Do you know who Isaac is?"

"Through the grapevine." I looked between the two of them, flustered and confused. "Wha-where are we going? I'm supposed to meet Lydia at her locker."

"Lydia? Great, we'll take you to her!" Stiles slapped me on the shoulder as they made a wide turn at the end of the hallway, pulling me along with them. I shot him a look, causing him to lean away from me, rubbing my shoulder where he had just hit me.

"So, you and Isaac…."

"What?" I blinked up at Scott as he turned a corner, Stiles ushering me along.

"What were you two talking about?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter? That's a great question, Stiles tell her why it matters!" Scott smiled at his friend with a halfhearted laugh, as he threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Right, um well see…it doesn't matter! Nope, not at all. Matter it does not. But you should really maybe considering telling us possibly. Like now." Stiles looked at me, before turning halfway around to look behind him.

"Wha…no! I don't even know you, why should I tell you anything if you won't even give me a reason? And we just passed Lydia's locker, so if you don't mind." I halted, yanking my arms free from them. They gave each other a look, before stepping in front of me, blocking my view of the hallway. I narrowed my eyes at them, giving my head a slight shake. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" I snapped, cocking my head to the side and crossing my arms. Stiles slowly leaned over to rest his elbow on Scott's shoulder, both boys shaking their head.

"I-I wish I could tell you but…but I don't…know…what's going on…" Scott slowly choked out, sharing glances with Stiles.

"Right." I gave my head a curt nod, my tone impatient. "Okay, well if you'll excuse me." I pushed my way through them, only to find Isaac leaning against the lockers across the hallway, staring at me. I stood there, my mind a jumbled mess. My thoughts were racing, nothing making much sense. Who was this kid, and what was he playing at? What the hell were tweedle dee and tweedle dum hiding? Because they certainly knew something that I was clearly not supposed to know. I had been at this school for a single period and already shit was hitting the fan. Was I just incapable of being normal? What was next, a visit from the grim reaper himself?

Isaac looked down, laughing to himself, before pushing off of the wall, and disappearing down the hallway. Hushed voices behind suddenly became very clear as I tried to clear my head.

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit this is bad Scott, very very bad. What do you think he wants with her? She's new, Derek can't possibly think that she's-" I spun around at the mention of his name, my vision immediately going spotty. My legs began to feel weak as I stared at them hard, trying not to let the sliver of horror I felt in the pit of my stomach leak into my expression.

"Derek?" I asked through clenched teeth. "What does Derek think?" Stiles's eyes tripled in size and Scott gaped at me, his mouth opening and closing much like a fish.

"Uh…Derek? Derek, do we know a Derek?" Scott fumbled, looking at Stiles as if his head was on fire.

"Nope, nope uh don't think we do." Stiles shook his head vigorously, scratching behind his head. I stood there, eyes narrowed, brows drawn together, just staring at them for a minute.

"There you are!" Lydia caught my arm, knocking me out of my trance. Allison stood next to her, smiling brightly. "Allison, this is Ryan."

"Hey Ryan, nice to meet you." Allison gave me a small wave, her eyes glancing at the two boys behind me.

"You too." I nodded, a smile plastered on my face as well. I knew how cliché it was, but I just wanted her to like me. I didn't want to be ostracized again because my only friend's best friend didn't approve of me. I needed to show them I could be normal, that I was capable of being normal. Even if I wasn't so sure of it myself.

"Hey guys." Allison gave Scott and Stiles a tight smile that didn't really reach her eyes, and they gave her a serious nod in greeting. She drew her eyebrows together; her mouth parting as a question formed on her tongue, but Scott shook his head quickly.

"We should get to class." Scott smiled, tapping Stiles on the shoulder.

"Hmm, yes please, decrease the awkward sexual tension that's going on right now." Lydia pressed her lips together in an annoyed smile, the two boys making their way down the hall.

"Actually Scott was probably right, we really should get to class or we'll be late." Allison's voice had a calm tone to it, quiet and soft.

"Ugh fine, whatever. I'll see you in Chemistry. Ryan's in our class too, so we can all bond." Lydia took my hand, leading us towards another classroom door.

"Bye Allison!" I waved over my shoulder. She waved at me before Lydia dragged me to the back of the classroom, indicating I sit in the desk in front of hers.

"So, how's your economics?" Lydia leaned forward on her arms, as I dug out my notebook and twisted in my chair, sitting sideways in the desk.

"Eh. I'll admit it's not my strongest subject. May have skipped a packet or four when I was supposed to be doing the work at home."

"A packet or four?" Lydia repeated, giving me a reproachful look. I shrugged, miming a yawn.

"It puts me to sleep!" She rolled her eyes, a faint smile on her lips.

"Well we'll have to get you caught up quick. We have a midterm tomorrow." I groaned, turning around as the teacher walked in and sliding down in my seat. "Coach Finstock." Lydia nodded towards the teacher, who slammed a textbook down on the front desk. "Don't let him scare you. He's only slightly crazy."

"Alright, listen up. Quick warning, before we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall," he threw a glance over towards the corner, where I noticed Scott, Stiles and Jackson were sitting. "Might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult," he gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "I-I'm not even sure I could pass it. Okay, I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question. Who's got it, huh?" A sea of hands rose around me and I silently wondered if all of the students in Beacon Hills were geniuses like Lydia. "Come on, let's go buddy." Coach waved a student a few rows over from me towards the board, and he made his way up, picking up a piece of chalk and writing across the board in chicken scratch.

I copied everything down, squinting at my writing, in an attempt to make sense of it. I liked to think I was pretty smart. I mean, I was nowhere near Lydia's level. But I aced most of my classes, and anything I didn't get an A in, I pulled at least a B+. But I was just so bad at economics. None of it made sense to me, and it bored me too much to make me care.

"Jackson! Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?" Coach stood in front of Jackson's desk, hands gesturing to the rest of the classroom.

"Umm…just an…undying admiration for my-my coach."

"That's really kind of you." Coach nodded, as Jackson tried not to look smug and failed miserably. I rolled my eyes. This guy really was a whole new kind of jerkoff.

"Now SHUT UP. SHUT IT! Anybody else?" he walked back to the board, asking for more volunteers. Again, hands shot up all around me, and I sunk a little more in my seat, desperate to blend in. Lydia stood up and strode over to the board, her arm moving quickly as she wrote across it. I began copying it down again until I noticed that what she was writing wasn't the answer to the question. In fact, it didn't even make sense. I squinted at the words on the board, trying to read them but to no avail.

Strangled sobs erupted from her throat, and I knew. Whatever she had been seeing Ms. Morrell about, as fine as she claimed to be, this was why. If I had to guess, I would say the culprit was a hallucination. But Lydia kept writing, the same thing over and over again. It was definitely English, the letters just looked jumbled, or twisted. I turned my head sideways, my palms resting flat on my desk, trying to figure out what Lydia was writing.

"Lydia?" Coach began, as another sob rocked through her body, tears streaming down her face. "Lydiaaaa?" he sang, and her eyes shot open with a gasp. She looked from side to side frantically, her makeup smeared all over her face.

"Okay then…anybody else wanna try answering? This time in…English?" Coach asked, as a chorus of laughter erupted from the class. A look of horror overtook Lydia's face as she spun around to stare at the board. I stared at it, focusing, until the words jumped out at me, almost reversing themselves in my mind.

SOMEONEHELPME

The laughter continued as Lydia stood there, half mortified half stunned, and I couldn't stand to look at her like that anymore. I knew what I was doing was dumb, but I wasn't going to let her be humiliated like that. I clamped both hands over my ears, and let an ear piercing scream erupt from my throat, throwing myself out of my chair and onto the floor. I thought of Casey, her laughter that would forever haunt my nightmares, her smile that I would never see again. Her bloodied body etched into my memory, her closed casket being lowered into the ground. The tears came quickly, and my screams escalated into shrieking sobs. I couldn't even hear Coach freaking out. Lydia still stood stunned at the front of the classroom, and students moved their desks away from me as if I might bite off their toes.

"We'll take her to Ms. Morrell Coach," Scott hooked an arm around my torso as Stiles wrapped my arm around his neck. As soon as they carried me into the hallway I ceased my screaming, clearing my throat and wiping my eyes.

"Thanks boys, I'll take it from here." They both stared at me as I stood straight up, smoothing down my dress.

"Okay you are actually crazy." Stiles deadpanned, and I smiled at him.

"Just a little." I leaned closer to him, widening my eyes. "Embrace it."

"Did you…you just …?" Scott sputtered, blinking rapidly and looking from me back to the classroom.

"Go check on Lydia," I offered, seriously. He nodded slowly at me, turning back towards the door. Stiles smiled thoughtfully at me, and I could almost see the gears of his brain turning. He gave me a glance over his shoulder before following Scott back into class.

I made my way to the bathroom where I figured I could hide for a bit without actually having to go see Ms. Morrell. I was trying to avoid that conversation for as long as possible. The bathroom was mostly empty, with only one other girl washing her hands. I walked over to the sink and ran the water, gently mopping at the eyeliner that had smudged around my eyes.

"You've got some set of lungs." The girl turned to me, wiping her hands on her army green jeans, an almost wicked grin plastered on her face. She had blonde curls cascading around her face, and wore a leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath. I cleared my throat again on impulse and went back to washing my hands, letting the cold water wash over them. The numbing sensation helped calm me, and I took a deep breath.

"That was you right?" she pressed, her brown eyes trying to burn a hole through my skull. "So what happened? Did you see an ax murderer or something?" she leaned against the sink, her head cocking to the side.

"Not quite." I finally met her gaze, with eyes as hard as steel. I wasn't going to let some blondie who couldn't even keep her boobs in her shirt try and intimidate me.

"Right, of course not. You've seen much scarier things, haven't you? Something as mundane as an ax murderer probably wouldn't earn as much of a peep out of you." Her expression hardened, all traces of joking gone. I gripped the edge of the sink hard before spinning to face her, head on.

"Who are you?"

"Erica Reyes. And I know all about you Ryan." She smiled confidently, her hand reaching up to poke me in the chest.

"You don't know jack shit about me," I warned, smacking her hand away before taking a step back.

"I know more than you think. I like you, you don't let people push you around. I think we'll get along just fine. Which is good news for you, because you need to seriously reconsider your friend choices." She held her hand up to her face, inspecting the nail I may or may not have chipped.

"What the hell does that mean?" I let out an exasperated sigh. What the hell was going on in Beacon Hills? This was some cheesy clichéd action movie shit that belonged in a Michael Bay film. Was the toilet about to explode next? Honestly.

"It means exactly what it sounds like. Lydia Martin is not the kind of friend you want, or need. Trust me." She practically growled, before a rhythmic knock on the bathroom door caught her attention. "And on that note, I'll see you around. New best friend." She laughed to herself, walking out of the bathroom. I followed her, watching her stroll down the hallway, with Isaac Lahey in tow.

Oh for fuck's sake.

It seemed I already had a big target painted on my back.

A/N: Sorry this took so long guys! I've been super busy with the holidays and finals and everything, and then I hit a streak of bad writer's block. But I hope it didn't affect this chapter too much!

Thank you so so much to everyone who favorited or followed, and thanks to BrittWitt16, cat-afterlife, emele807, kaljara, and MessintheMirror for the lovely reviews for Chapter 4!

Keep the reviews coming please! Love you all!

Belated Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year to all!