Disclaimer: I don't own teen wolf... yet. *maniacal laughter*
An: So...I love writing this story. I don't like boys in straw cowboy hats. That has nothing to do with anything. But you guys...these reviews. Oh my Yoda. You guys I could just squeal! I read them while I was eating breakfast and I smiled so hard it hurt! You just can't understand how much they mean to me! Its what makes me write. I'm just so grateful for them! That being said, enjoy!
Chapter Two.
She woke up in his bed.
She vaguely realized that she'd never woken up in Jackson's bed. She'd never even spent the night with him. The only reason she had a key to his house was so that she could lock up after they were done. So he didn't have to leave bed. Or so he could go directly to the shower. Wonderful guy that he was. Real romance.
Stiles had given her his bed, sleeping on the couch probably. Crawling out, she resisted the urge to dig through his room, sneaking down the stairs. She easily found the laundry room, pulling her dress off the hanger. It had a crimp along the shoulders from the wire hanger, but she shimmied it on regardless. She had to smile at the contents of the dryer. Socks and panties. She stepped into both, trying to remember where'd she'd taken her shoes off. The porch? Kitchen? Livingroom. She remembered Stiles undoing the buckle as she laid in his lap. It'd been...sweet. She hummed, slipping out of the room and padding into the livingroom.
She had to force herself not to laugh. The boy looked like a post-potion Alice, too long for the couch. The blanket only covered one leg, the leg that was half on the floor and bent at the knee. His pillow was on top of his head, one arm somehow bent to lay on his back the other on the floor and digging into the carpet. Moving quietly, Lydia grabbed her shoes.
Then set them down on the table.
She couldn't leave him lying like that. Like a b grade contortionist with the travelling circus. Carefully she righted his backwards arm, pulling his leg back to the couch. She threw the quilt back on him, tucking it in. Her Mother flew into her head suddenly, 'Snug as a bug in a rug.' She smiled, rubbing the back of her neck as she picked her shoes back up and walked out.
Suddenly she changed her mind, running back upstairs she grabbed something before she left. She'd woken up two hours early by the sound of the door shutting. Sheriff Stilinski was not a quiet man. She had enough time to enact her plan. And really, it was as much a thank you as it was a charitable deed.
A very charitable deed. Very indeed.
Her car was still parked at the road, the leaves scattered around. A few sticking to her windshield. She carried her shoes, watching as an old woman poked her face from behind the blinds across the street. She didn't look happy. Lydia wondered how nosey the neighbors were around here. She tossed her shoes in the passenger and realized she didn't much care. Her phone was blinking messages and calls as she picked it up, ignoring them all as she sent a message to a girl who owed her a favor.
She picked up the basket an hour and a half later, showered and ready for school. Before she left, she hit the livingroom window. Three loud pop-pop-pops, trying hard not to laugh as she heard a satisfying yelp and crash of Stiles waking up and falling to the floor. She raced back to her car and pulled off, she was being childish. But she couldn't let him sleep in, it would be rude she justified.
Before school she found herself at the drive through of Beacon Hills' Carry-Leigh's, ordering two chocolate donuts and coffees. She didn't even call Allison until she was in the driveway. The brunette's groggy shock was dashed by the promise of sweets and caffeine.
"I got a weird call from Jackson last night." Allison opened as she did her hair, Lydia took a sip of her coffee looking away. 'Guilty perhaps?' Allison mused. Though why she would be was anyone's guess. Lydia wasn't seeing Jackson any longer. "He sounded mad, he asked where you were..." Allison pulled the curling iron free from her hair, watching her best friend take a bite of her donut. Wherever she had been, it had been damn good to her to leave her in this mood. Usually when Lydia came with coffee and breakfast she wanted something, like to borrow a dress or some random little thing. Making Allison search for it before she could finish getting herself ready. "So where were you?" She asked.
Lydia shrugged her shoulders under her cardigan, flicking her eyes to look at the out the window. It was half open. Someone had snuck a little friend of their own in the night before. She knew Allison and Scott had been having fun of their own, the brunette had even gone so far as to ask Lydia about a few things. "No where." She answered, smirking. Evasive. "But who was here before me?" She batted her eyes knowingly and Allison blushed. It seemed they were at an impasse. Allison wouldn't ask anymore questions for fear of Lydia asking her own. The brunette took a large gulp of her coffee. "But if my Mother should ask, I was here."
Allison just nodded, trying subtly to place a dab of Concealer on her throat without Lydia noticing. They locked eyes in the mirror and Lydia smirked around the lid of her coffee. "What did you want to talk about yesterday?" She asked, desperate for a change of subject. Any change of subject.
Lydia felt her coffee go sour in her mouth, she choked it down against the urge to spit it out the window. Or in Allison's makeup bag. She was suddenly angry at the girl for bringing it up. She was having a damn good morning. "Nothing." She snapped harshly, glaring at a spot on the wall. She dropped the half full cup in the wastebasket.
"I'm sorry that I didn't have time for you yesterday Lydia." Allison apologized through the mirror, a frown on her face. Lydia shrugged. It wasn't that. It was what she had came to talk about yesterday. About Peter. Before her was Peter. Giving her flowers and making her smile. She wanted to talk about butterflies and holding her breath. Now, she didn't want to talk about any of that.
"Its nothin'." Lydia mumbled into her donut, looking at her feet. Allison sighed, going to sit on her bed next to the girl. Lydia may have seemed tougher than nails, but sometimes even nails broke.
"Its not 'nothin'." Allison admitted, watching as Lydia turned to look at her with wide eyes. That shock-dismay mixed look she'd given her in the car. "You wanted to talk about something obviously important, and I wasn't there for you. It wasn't fair of me and I'm sorry. You're my best friend, Lydia. I should always be there to talk to." Lydia kept her eyes wide, giving Allison a quick sharp nod.
"That's nice." She muttered, standing up and moving to primp in the mirror. She didn't need to, but it made Allison and all her mushy talk stop. The brunette watched her friend in the mirror, back to normal. She smiled as the girl checked her teeth. She stood to take place next to her, applying the lipstick Lydia handed her. "Share a ride to school?"
.
...
Stiles turned to find Jackson boring holes into the back of his head. He knew. He had to know. Somehow he had to have seen Lydia's car outside his house at some ungodly hour, even though that broke the fifty yard order. It seemed he thought the worst. Scott nudged him, motioning to the boy that was trying to blow him up with his mind. "Dude. Why is Jackson glaring at you even harder than normal? What did you do?" The Were looked at his in a mix of accusation and mild worry.
Stiles shrugged, which turned out to be more of a violent flinch. "Why do you think I did something?" He snapped, waving his hands wildly. "Jackson's an angry angry guy. Maybe he's still mad about the whole van in the woods thing? Or the sandwhich I got him? Maybe the pants itched. Whatever it is, it isn't my fault, its his. He's the monster here. What happened to killing him? That was a good plan. Was that my plan? Man, I liked that plan. I bet Derek would like that plan. Let's talk to him about it. Let's go. We don't really need a higher education. What's high school really but a dog and pony show of who's who? I mean really, I doubt I'll need chemistry in life except if I become some Meth maker. And I doubt that'll happen. That seems like a lot of work. Have you seen Breaking Bad? I've got it on Netflix. Let's go watch it after we tell Derek of our super awesome plan. That I made up. I like that plan." Stiles rambled as he walked, in place, not noticing that Scott held his back pack and stopped his great escape. The other boy let him finish his rant, waiting.
"You done?" Scott asked, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Not very many people payed them any mind. They just continued on their way to classes, waiting for the bell to ring. Stiles stopped moving, durning to look at him. He nodded once. "I was just wondering. Chill out." He laughed, shaking his head. The wind shifted and he caught...a scent.
"You smell... different..." Scott looked at him hard, brow furrowed. He sniffed, a little too close for Stiles's comfort. He jumped back.
"Oh my God!" Stiles almost shouted, throwing his hands up. It was usually his job to ask a million questions, not Scott's. Since when did he even notice anything that didn't involve Allison? He liked that Scott, the oblivious one who didn't notice that he'd showered with the body wash that Lydia had gotten him. That it took every bit of will power he had to not think of the strawberry blonde as she had use the same shower not twenty-four hours ago. She hadn't been all together at the time. It wouldn't be right."Why the third degree? Is a man not allowed to change shampoo? Am I supposed to have only one scent? You know, I'll just go peel my flesh off to avoid further offending your super wolf nose! Jesus Christ." He stomped off, glaring when Scott grabbed his shoulder. Could he smell Lydia on him? Would he be able to smell his old soap on Lydia? He prayed she bathed before she came to school. Or at least drowned herself in her flowery scented perfume. She smelled so good...
"Dude. Chill." Scott said, wondering what was going on with his best friend. "Its nice."
Stiles preened, full bromance level. "Thank you for noticing." He mock fluttered his lashes, stilling as he spotted Isaac at the other end of the hall as they walked through the doors. "Do you know how Erica is?" He asked, remembering her shaking and screaming. Her arm snapping. You make a good Batman. What a lie. He didn't make a good Batman at all, especially not after he didn't even consider her once Lydia came over. Full on crazy Harley Quinn with a need to be saved from herself.
Scott grinned, oblivious to his friend's thoughts, spinning his locker combination. "She's doing just fine...Batman." He poked, watching as Stiles gave him a flat look. He pulled a text book out and shoved a binder in. Stiles pulled a note from his locker. "Derek kept her back though, just in case." They didn't know what could happen at this point. She'd been clammy and cold that morning when usually they were a hundred degrees.
Stiles read the note, a number was on it in cut out magazine numbers. Obvioulsy Allison left it for Scott. Or a serial killer secret admirer for him. He handed it over anyway, he wasn't sure he wanted another serial killer taking interest in him. "I'm assuming this bit of creepy Zodiac murderer is for you." He gave the boy an 'are you serious?' Look. They were just going beyond secrets now. It was just creepy. "And the library..."
Scott put the number in his phone then ripped the paper up. 'Probably to scatter in different trashcans across the state.' Stiles mused, 'Like a serial killer.' "I don't know. But those tapes..." Scott frowned, shaking his head. They were screwed if those tapes got out. The Argents...they'd know Jackson was the kanima. And they'd kill him in a minute.
"Dude."
"Yeah."
.
...
"Lydia, can I borrow your phone?" Allison asked after tugging the girl into the bathroom. She looked down to see the feet in the stall. Only one pair at the end. She didn't recognize them. To make her realize how silly she looked, Lydia did the same then gave the girl a judgemental stare. Allison Just shrugged. Safe than sorry.
Lydia walked to the fingerprint smudged mirror, pulling out her lipstick for a pre-class touch up. Not that it wasn't perpetually perfect. "Why?" She asked, already knowing. So the girl could go all wherefore art thou Romeo? And text Scott so her crazy mother wouldn't know. And Lydia knew Mother Argent was insane. She was Nintey eight percent sure that the woman had got a job as a secretary just to watch her daughter. Over Protectiveville, population one crazy Mother.
Allison answered just as Lydia assumed, "I need to talk to Scott." She said, watching the single pair of feet in the last stall. Just...lingering. Eavesdropping. Lydia looked over at them too.
"No sexting." The red head said, catching the girl's eyes in the mirror. She raised a brow as the brunette blushed. Cute. She pushed further. "I don't need Scott McCall's lacrosse stick as my background, kay?"
"Lydia!" Allison shouted, mortified. The redhead smirked, dabbing on her lipstick. It was fun to make the delicate girl blush, she did so so easily. Allison was sure her face was on fire. Actual flames.
"What?" She raised a red brow, shrugging her shoulders. She sighed as she saw Allison's eyes flick to the red Toms again. She rolled her eyes, speaking louder. "The only other person in here is Stacy Kline and we've all seen her sexting scandal." She snapped.
The girl in the last stall finally came out, stomping in her Toms with her permed hair bouncing wildly. "Bitch." She sneered, a mean glare on her face before she turned away.
"Oh come on Stacy. Its not my fault you're flat chested." Lydia called after her, shaking her head. That was genetics. She'd wanted her gone so she could talk to Allison, but as she looked at the girl through the mirror she changed her mind. They had three minutes before first period, she doubted she could. "Pull a tradsies though, just in case I need a phone." She smiled sharply.
Allison nodded, her phone already in hand. Eager eager Lydia sighed. She'd never wanted to talk to Jackson that much, but maybe it was the forbidden aspect? "Alright. I'll give it back as soon as possible." The brunette promised, shaking Lydia out of her own mind. She knew Lydia would give over her phone, she could be cold hearted but she'd help if it wasn't out of her way. Lydia paid attention in class, she didn't use her phone. Its why she'd left Scott her number in Stiles locker that morning. She just...wanted to talk to him. Not about the kanima or anything, just talking. About nothing and everything. She missed him. Lydia could see it in her eyes. She may have never felt that love, but she wouldn't stop it.
She still rolled her eyes however, putting her lipstick back in her purse and pulling out her phone. She handed it over, taking Allison's in hand. "We rode here together Allison. Just give it back then."
.
...
Periodically through class Lydia checked Allison's phone. The girl had given her instructions that if her Mother texted to respond with Cricket41seven. Lydia didn't even want to know why. Crazy Mother Argent needed no explanation. If Allison's father texted, she didn't reply. So far no one had. Lydia had told her that if her own Father texted, she had plans for the weekend. Allison had asked what they were and Lydia had told her anything but his.
Glancing back down Lydia saw a message had finally appeared. It seemed Allison wasn't as lonesome as she'd thought. She had been starting to feel bad for her. She checked the sender, Stiles. Looking up her green eyes landed on the back of his head, he was paying no attention to the Coach as he lectured. Beside him, Scott was staring at his lap with a grin. Either he'd gotten a message from Allison, or had just hit puberty. She slid her finger across the screen and opened the message. It wasn't like she had anything better to do. She already knew the economics lesson the crazy coach was shouting.
'Allison, we need to talk about Lydia.'
So no one had told Stiles that she had Allison's phone. The text was about her, so Lydia responded. It was fair game. Allison had never told her she couldn't respond. She just told her how to respond. As if she were Allison. She was only following orders. 'What about? What's wrong?' Maybe she could get her questions answered finally.
'She needs to know. About all of it.'
She watched the phone, smiling at the response. 'All of what?' She asked, keeping the rambling coach in her line of sight. She kept Stiles there too. For grounded boys they sure were allowed to have their phones. Someone didn't have strict parents.
'You know what.' Stiles responded. 'About Scott and the kanima, you. She needs to know about Peter Hale.'
Lydia felt her blood go cold in her veins, the sound of it rushing in her ears. Loud. Echoing. Like a jet engine. The kanima? Peter Hale? Allison was involved with him? She knew about him? And she wouldn't tell her? What was going on? She turned the phone off, not even bothering to delete the messages. Allison was the secret keeper her, not her. She stared blankly at the board ahead of her, not even registering what was being written. Her mind was somewhere else.
'Allison?'
Scott looked over to his friend, then the phone in his lap. Stiles mouthed something and he mouthed something back and Stiles looked back at her. She darted her eyes away. Well great. Just like Scott McCall to ruin everything with his new found sense of awareness. Or maybe give her a bit of footing. She smirked.
She kept her head down as Coach Flinstock spoke, toying with her pen as she thought over her game plan. "Now economics has a lot of rules, but there are only three rules that I live by kids: never get less than twelve hours sleep, never play cards with a guy who has the same first name as a city, and never get involved with a woman with a tattoo of a dagger on her body. Now you stick to that, and everything else is cream cheese." The bell rang and Lydia was the first out the door, Scott and Stiles watching her go.
.
...
She found the two boys easily at their signature little lunch table. She sat at the head of the table, crossing her arms and tapping her heel clad foot. Allison's phone was in her hand, clenched tightly. Thank God for touch screens or else her grip would have sent buttons flying. She kept a sharp smile on her face as Stiles sat down slowly. Very slowly. Carefully.
She flicked her eyes up as the brunette girl walked pass them, in hearing range. "Allison will be meeting us after school at my house. I want to know every single thing." The girl whipped her head around, and Lydia raised a brow. She wouldn't say no. She kept her gaze, waiting for Allison to look away. The girl did, looking away and darting off. Where she went, Lydia didn't really care. As long as she got her ass in her car when that bell rang.
Scott shook his head, pushing his plate away. He could hear mumbles from across the room. About Lydia at their table. Why was it such a big deal? Someone mentioned Stiles house. "I can't be there," he told her, looking across the table to his best friend. Stiles was nervous. Very nervous. He could smell it. "I'm grounded. From Stiles." He was allowed to go to practice, work, and school. They weren't even allowed to have lunch together.
Stiles shrugged, looking over at Lydia. It had been his message that told her. He should have known. What with Scott smiling at his phone. "And you know I'm grounded, from life." He told her. He needed Scott to tell her. He needed Allison to tell her. What could he possibly say? What could he do to make her believe, except show her Scott. Fangs, claws, glowing eyes.
Lydia sighed, shaking her head. Didn't they get it? She didn't care about their little inconveniences. All she cared about were her answers. She wanted to know what was going on. "Sorry Charlie, not my problem." She smiled, leaning back in the chair. Her foot kept tapping, Scott's hand twitching along with it. Strange. "You'll be there or I will drag you there by your split ends. And that is a really long way to be dragged. Okay?" She threatened, keeping a smile on her face. No need to have anyone thinking she wasn't peachy keen. She stood slowly, leaving her untouched tray and tossing her hair back.
Stiles watched her go. Scott turned to him, eyes narrowed as his friend sunk down in his chair. "Why does Lydia Martin smell like you?" He asked, clenching his jaw. Underneath her perfume had been the distinct scent of Stiles. Not just in her hair, it had clung to her every inch like a second skin. But Stiles only barely smelled like her...
His friend shrugged, looking down at his plate. "Axe three-in-one is highly convenient?" Scott gave him a leveled look.
.
...
Allison frowned as she sat down at the table she usually shared with Lydia. She idly pushed her food around, opening her water bottle, setting it back down. She sighed.
What Lydia wanted, Lydia got. And she didn't know if what Lydia wanted was good for her. The answers the strawberry blonde wanted would only make her life tougher. Allison rubbed her brow, a headache was brewing. She felt someone behind her, the skills her father had been teaching her kicking in.
The office runner taped her on the shoulder, "You're needed in the principal's office." She whispered. Of course she was. Of course. After last night's line of questioning she was waiting for the Princess Diana Hymen test. Golden.
Her mother wasn't manning the front desk and so Allison went right in without knocking. She sunk down in the chair across from her Grandfather's desk. She fondly remembered the days when she was never called into this office. She missed those days. Sometimes she dreamed of them.
The desk chair spun and she found her mother in it. Just great. Wonderful. Allison sunk deeper in the chair, her headache was back. Throbbing heavy behind her eyes."The tape was missing." Her Mother snapped, her voice sharp and thick with accusation. As if Allison had done it.
As if. "I can hardly use Google, mom. I'm not capable of hacking into the school system." Allison grumbled, crossing her arms. Lydia's phone sent of a short vibration. She glared at it in her pocket. That's what started all this. Her headache. Lydia and her need for knowledge. She sighed. It wasn't Lydia's fault. It wasn't anyone's really. It was this messes fault. Werewolves and monsters. They shouldn't even exist. She shouldn't have to tell anyone About things she didn't even want to know! And there was the root of it all. She didn't want to tell Lydia because she didn't even want to know.
She didn't want to ruin anyone else.
Her mother was talking again, jarring her. "We know who the Kanima is, Allison." She said and watched as her daughter went still. She knew. She'd always known. She was such a foolish girl sometimes. "There were five children in that room, Allison. You, Scott, Stiles, Jackson, Matt, and Erica. We know you're clean and so is the strange one. Scott and the other girl are werewolves, Matt is nothing. But Jackson..." off and her daughter kept her face blank. She was getting better. Bit not that good. "Your Father caught Jackson at Derek Hale's house. He stopped him the first time, but it seems he couldn't the second." She leaned back in her chair, watching as her daughter's face turned pleading.
"Mom. Please you can't kill him." Allison had tried to stop this. She tried so damn hard. But she couldn't. They'd found out. She lied and they'd still found out. She felt her eyes water. They'd kill him with no remorse.
Her mother shook her head, wondering how she'd raised such a fool. "Allison, sweetie. He's a monster. He's killed." It meant that the boy was theirs now. Free game by the rules. Gerard may have been ignoring the rules in his state over Kate, but she wasn't. There was a reason the women made the choices. Men got too caught up over little foolish things.
Allison stood, shaking her head. This wasn't right! He didn't mean to! "He's being controlled by someone else!" She defended, holding out her hands. "He can't help it!" Someone was making him do these things. And the people who he killed were murderers anyway, right?
Her Mother looked taken aback, her eyes wide. "How do you know that?" There was no way her daughter could access those files. Gerard kept them hidden. Like she said, she could hardly use Google...right?
"The bestiary. Lydia, she translated it." Allison admitted, shrugging her shoulders. She didn't offer any other explanation. She definitely didn't tell her mother that she'd pickpocketed her grandfather. That was just something that no one needed to know. It was a necessary evil but it was a very messed up evil.
Victoria leaned forward, a serious look on her face as she watched her daughter. Some secrets she could excuse, but this? "Do you know who it is?" She asked, clenching her jaw tightly. "The kanima's master. Do you know?" So help her, if Allison was keeping secrets. This was beyond the girl's depth. This was a strong monster that had no idea what it was doing.
"No." Allison answered, shaking her head. Not for lack of trying, she thought. "But it has to be someone who could access the school's mainframe. Someone with school codes and knowledge in video." Someone who knew she frowned, racking her brain.
"Someone who knew what was happening." Victoria added, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms as she thought out loud. Who though? "A faculty memeber." That was it. Someone on who'd have school codes, school records, medical records. Someone who knew things no one else did and could keep a close eye on the kids.
Allison nodded, heading for the door. She had to get back. She closed her hand on the cold metal knob, her grip harsh and her throat tight. "Awhile back you asked me what was more important." She reminded her mother, biting her lip to keep it from shaking. Her head pounded her eyes watered. "Me dating Scott or killing a sixteen year old boy." She turned and met her mother's eyes. "What's more important here, Mom? Finding the man who controls the monster, who forces a confused child to kill night after night? Or killing a sixteen year old boy? "
.
..
Lydia's smile slipped as she walked into the hall. Jackson took step beside her, his stomping foot falls telling her about his current mood. Something had twisted up his panties. She could only guess. "Why was your car at Stiles house last night?" He growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her to a stop. Lydia sighed. This old hat trick.
She smiled, turning to face him with an innocent look on her face. "Why is it any of your business?" She asked sugary sweet. It really wasn't. He'd dropped her. He'd asked for his key back. And he'd kissed her. God had he'd kissed her. "I thought you were done with me? Dead weight, remember?" She shook of his hand, placing hers on her hips in a defiant stance. Or did he forget that wonderful little speech?
Jackson growled, leaning forward. He turned his face, taking a deep breath of her. "I can smell him on you. You reek of him." He hissed, the stench of Stiles all over her. It was disgusting. Cloying. "What? Couldn't get McCall so you had to drop all the way to his loser best friend? How low, Lydia." He had her against a locker, towering over her. She was glaring back, unafraid. "He must be a weak comparison. I doubt the fumbling idiot could even get you halfway there. He's nothing like me, is he?" He smirked, his eyes sharp.
Lydia smirked back. Exactly. She realized that Stiles was nothing like Jackson. Not a single bit. She licked her lips, meeting his eyes. He took it as a sign to lean forward and she kept her voice whisper soft. "Let's just say this, Jackson, after waking up in his bed I know I won't be crawling out of yours anymore." She placed her hand on his chest, straightening his collar in a familiar gesture before shoving. Hard. He stumbled, shocked. "And at least he doesn't cry afterwards." She threw over her shoulder, walking away with a startling sense of finality that she didn't even realize she could manage.
Erica crackled from across the hall, tossing her blonde head back as the boy glared. He didn't need an audience."Pity Jackson. Seems like your dead weight has left you lonely." She called, darting away the way she'd came. She'd came to talk to Scott for Derek, but wait until she told her Alpha this little bit.
He'd plotz!
Her face fell flat as she walked out the door, calculating. Maybe they could use this. She slipped into the passenger seat of the black Camaro. "I've got news for you." She smiled. Derek matched it.
.
...
"Your Mom won't be home?" Allison asked, parking by the road. It was the first word either of the girl's had spoken, both out in their own minds. Lydia thinking of Jackson and Allison of her mother. Each girl wondering where the good morning had gone. Obviously far far away. Allison tightened her grip on the steering wheel, exhaling.
"No." Lydia muttered to the side mirror, catching her own eyes. Something was there that she didn't recognize anymore. Something harsh. Something confused. She wondered if a darker eye shadow would cover that up. "Stiles will park his car in the garage. As long as your Mother doesn't have a buzzer on you that goes off whenever Lover boy is near, you'll be fine." She told her friend blankly, watching her lips move in reflection. It seemed slower to her. Everything seemed slower.
Allison frowned, she was used to Lydia staring at her reflection but this was off. "Is something wrong?" She asked, studying the back of the girl's red head. She was even sitting different. Not the prim way she usually sat. Her shoulders slumped forward. Allison leaned back in her seat, tired
Lydia turned her eyes and looked at the time on the dash. They had an hour and a half until lacrosse practice ended. Maybe that was enough time. Probably not. "I spent the night away from home from last night," she admitted. Turning in the seat to keep her back to the telling mirror and face Allison."and Jackson found out about it."
Allison nodded, her morning suspicion confirmed. She'd already guessed as much. And by Lydia's sudden sour, she guessed Jackson hadn't been so happy about it. Now only one thing was left out. "Where were you?" She asked, mentally wracking her brain. Lydia hadn't said anything about a boy and she doubted the redhead would go off on a one night stand, right?
Lydia's face went blank. "Stiles's." She answered quietly, turning her eyes away. She hadn't even done anything untowards with him. Why was she looking away? Why did she suddenly feel ill? It was insanity. She could do as she pleased.
Allison gasped,'"St...St...Stiles. Stiles?" She stuttered out. Her eyes wide. She couldn't have...they hadn't? She wouldn't...Stiles wouldn't..."Lydia...did you..." She still had to ask. Part of her didn't want to know.
Lydia's eyes shot back to Allison. Sharp. "Have a mental break down and Chinese food?" She spat, pursing her lips. She popped her jaw, crossing her arms around her. "I was alone in his bed when the clock struck twelve though." Her voice went low and she leaned back against the car door. Looking over Allison's shoulder she watched the cars pass. One blue, one green. A silver. Red. She counted ten of them until Allison finally spoke again.
"What's going on with you?" She asked, hushed in the car interior. Something was wrong. So wrong. Allison didn't know what, but it was there. Behind Lydia's eyes there was a spark of something colder than usual. The same thing that made them all think she could be the kanima.
Lydia sneered, meeting Allison's eyes and watching as the other girl turned away. "Nothing heavy meds can't fix." She sniped, raising her brows. Allison kept her eyes any where but hers. Heavy. Away. Evasive.
Allison shook her head, "No. That's not the answer I want." She said, looking at Lydia with those poor crazy girl eyes. Lydia felt her stomach turn. "Something is going on and you need to talk about it."
Lydia's smiled sharply, almost a baring of teeth. "I've already talked about it." She snapped, wishing she hadn't even opened her mouth. Of course Allison would turn this into some pseudo psych session. "One person knowing is more than enough." She needed to bottle this all in. To keep it inside and keep her perfect facade. She couldn't write backwards on the board anymore.
"You talked to Stiles." Allison guessed, wondering how she could possibly be a worse friend. All because she didn't want to share.
"Yes."
"You know you can talk to me, right?"
Lydia watched her. "Don't worry Allison. We'll be even soon enough." She watched as the blue Jeep pulled up, she smirked as she pressed the garage button. "See. Mommy never has to know." She pulled the door open and stepped out.
.
...
An: I don't know why, but I can write these chapters much easier. But I hate writing Victoria Argent. She needs to find a new show and cross over to it. Her and her pencil sharpener of castration threats. I'm stuck with Crave at the moment though, like gum. But hey! Tonight is Teen Wolf new episode! Oh yeah.
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