"You owe me five dollars," I said, crossing my arms over my chest and looking over to Scott. Just as I had predicted - and proceeded to make a bet with Scott - my truck had spontaneously stopped working. I had gotten ready quite quickly this morning, due to my wanting to be early to school so I could get my schedule and find all my classes, or at least the general vicinity of where they were located. That and the weird excitedness you get from the first day of school; it was really strange. I'd give anything to just stay at home and not go to school ever again, but sadly, Melissa would not let me do so. I had hopped into the truck, shoved the key in the ignition and twisted. And guess what happened? Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. I tried it a few more times, each attempt at trying to start the old blue truck becoming more and more frustrated. I eventually gave up and just let my head drop onto the steering, and my forehead hit the horn. I probably woke several people up by doing so, since I just let out a deep sigh and let the horn continue doing its thing until Scott came outside and tapped on the window.

"I owe you five dollars," Scott said, letting out a sigh. We checked everything, but we couldn't find a damn thing wrong with the truck besides the fact that it wouldn't start. Maybe it finally decided to hit the bucket? The thing was as old as me, if not older - I wouldn't be surprised if it had. But we'd have to wait until after school to see what was wrong with it, because school was calling our names.

This meant, of course, that I'd have to hitch a ride with Scott. Luckily, Melissa had a spare helmet that I could use. I grabbed my backpack from my truck as Scott ran inside to get the helmet, and he tossed it to me as he walked back out. I almost fell on my ass as he threw it because I didn't know he was going to do that, and the only thing I saw was something flying towards me. Lets just say its good to have werewolf reflexes, so you don't get hit in the face with flying motorbike helmets. He got on the bike and I followed him over, putting it on and getting on the bike behind him. I was about to put my arms around his torso, but I hesitated for a second - like I was almost in contact with his clothes, in the area where you can feel if someone is too close even though they're not touching you. That must've been a second too long for Scott because he reached back and grabbed my hands, pulling them forward and around his torso. He started the bike, and I pulled my feet up off the ground.

"Hold on tight." I tightened my grip around his torso and he twisted his head to the side, looking at me from the corner of his eye. "Ready?"

"Ready."

.

"Where the hell?" I muttered as I looked at my newly obtained schedule. I then let out a sigh, wanting to smash my head against a wall.

"What?" Scott asked, peaking over my shoulder at my schedule.

"My locker is upstairs. Why couldn't they just give me the locker I had before, that was downstairs where practically all of my classes are?"

"It's because they have a deep-rooted hatred for students that come back from the dead." He grinned, and I elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shut up and help me find my locker."

.

Scott and I entered the economics classroom just as the last bell rang, signalling for the start of the school day. Almost late on my first day back, way to make a great Nat. After we had located my locker, I entered the combination that was written down on the paper, which did not open the locker. I tried four more times to get it open, much to Scott's protests - he wanted to try and open it after my third try, but I would not give into defeat so easily. I then spontaneously remembered holy shit, I'm a werewolf and what do werewolves have? SUPER HEARING. I focused on the numbered dial on my sixth attempt to open the locker, listening for the three clicks of hitting the right numbers to open the thing.

I took the only empty after Scott had sat down, which was luckily in the back. I dropped my backpack on the floor and pulled out my notebook that I has used previously, not even bothering to ask for a textbook; I'd wait for Coach to notice my lack of having a textbook, or just ask for one after class had ended. I tapped my pen on the corner of my desk, waiting for him to start teaching, when the guy sitting next to me leaned over and said something to me.

"Is your muffin buttered?" He asked quietly.

"What?" I was confused, and it took me a minute to realise he was quoting Mean Girls; but before I could say something else, he continued.

"Would you like someone to butter your muff–"

"C'mon Greenberg, stop your little flirt fest with the new girl back there," Coach said, motioning back towards where we were sitting. Everyone's heads whipped around to look at us, and I could feel a heat creeping up on my face. Okay, Coach was worse then I remember. At least before when I had been practically invisible I was not often the center of attention; when I was it was due to the fact the I was presenting something in class or the occasional time when I answered a question in class. But now, since I was now labeled as the "new girl" I would become one of the main centers of attention in the school, because everyone just has to catch a glimpse of the "newest addition" to the school, to see if the rumors that she was totally hot or was a foreign exchange student from Africa were true or not. I just gulped and glanced over everyone briefly, resting on Scott's face, which looked apologetic and I felt better until I saw Stiles behind Scott - he mouthed "get it Greenberg", gave a thumbs up and winked in my direction. "Hey!" Coach shouted - well, more exclaimed. His "inside voice" was usually a mild yell, at the least. Everyone turned back around, facing the front of the room where he was standing. "You all leave the new girl - what's your name?"

"King. Natalie King," I said quietly, but it was loud enough to carry to Coach's ears. I wasn't surprised at all that he just so happened to not remember my name.

"- Miss King here alone. Got it?" There were a few head nods but what came from the students was mostly groans. "Good. Now let's get to learning about the wonders of economics, shall we?" More groans.

.

The rest of my morning classes went by quickly, and I found that I had one of the two with Isaac; I made sure to get a seat next to him so I wasn't stranded in the sea of people I didn't want to talk to. The main topic of conversation between us circled completely around orchestrating a checkers tournament, holding it between the total group of friends that he, Stiles, and Scott belonged to - all of which I have yet to meet.

.

"Hmm," a girl with strawberry blonde hair hummed as I sat down next to Scott. There were three people I didn't recognise sitting at the table; a blond boy who looked incredibly muscular, a girl with short brown hair, and the girl with the strawberry blonde hair. She looked me up and down before saying, "so this is the girl that you've been worried sick about, Scott." She flashed her eyes momentarily over to Scott, whose face flushed. "I'm Lydia, by the way, and this is my boyfriend Aiden."

"And I'm Allison," the girl with the short brunette hair added with a smile after Lydia.

"I'm Natalie. You can call me Nat," I said, a small smile on my face. The conversation stopped for a little while before idle chatter began between the residents of the table, eating and talking at practically the same time.

"So," Lydia said, and I flitted my eyes up to her. "How did you become a werewolf, Nat?" Everyone practically stopped eating and look up just to stare at her. "What?"

Stiles leaned across the table and blurted out, "Oh my god Lydia, you just can't ask people that."

.

After I had gotten home - forcing Stiles to take me home since Scott had to go straight to work after school - I went into the kitchen to get some food and start my homework. I spread my Algebra 2 book and notes out on the counter as I gathered supplies from the cupboards and fridge to make myself mac and cheese. Between stirring and adding things to the pot of food, I flipped through the math book, catching myself up to speed on what I had missed in the weeks that I was gone. I could just borrow notes from other people in any other class. When the delicious cheesy noodles were done, I just took the pot with an oven mitt and put it on the table, grabbing a fork and pulling all of the books and folders out of my backpack and piling them on the table. I had received homework in practically every class, which sucked, even if it was only just a one-sided worksheet.

For every two or so problems done, I would eat three or four forkfuls of the delicious cheese noodles. When I had finished, I face-planted into the couch, a leg and an arm hanging off the side. Shortly after I had done so, Scott walked through the door, just getting home from work at the clinic.

"ScCCCccCooOOOTTTtttTt dON't MAKE mE GO baCKKK," I groaned, my voice muffled by the couch cushion. I heard a laugh from him. I sat up, and he took a seat next to me. "Don't you laugh at me. School's worse than I remember." I just sighed and let my forehead fall against his shoulder. He put an arm around me, rubbing my back slightly.

"C'mon, it can't be that bad."

"It is, I'm totally not exaggerating at all." I pulled my head up, a small smile across my face. I made a dramatic arm motion and slowly let myself slip off the couch until I was laying on the floor with only a single foot on the couch. "Still not exaggerating." He smiled at me and my smile grew wider. "Totally not at all. But I may or may not be stuck on the floor right now. Help."

A/N: Attention readers! I would be ever so grateful if you would please check out the poll on my profile (it pertains to Teen Wolf, and another possible story). You don't have to read/vote in the poll if you don't want to, but I would love it if you did.

(Also sorry for the short chapter.)