Artifice

by It Belongs In A Museum

Moving in with aunt Natalie and cousin Lydia was supposed to be a fresh start. But the way Gwen saw it, she was just getting away. Away from the pompoms she used to carry, from the pretentious mean girls and snide jocks. Beacon Hills High had to be better than Devenford Prep, right? Except there are monsters in the dark and apparently your past always catches up with you. Liam/OC.

4. Strangers

Disclaimer: 'Teen Wolf' isn't mine. Shocking, right? But it's true. If there are any similarities in content or dialogue, it has probably originated with the show.

A huge thank you to she.s. .one, Cassie-Di, crimson sun06, Bookiee, ForgeandGred4Ever, fighter61998, Lil Miss Sunshine14, artificial-paradises, Guest, Paige, and Ivy J Knight for reviewing! You guys are the best.

Chapter 4 - Strangers

"So how did it go yesterday?"

And there it was. The question Gwen had been waiting for—the one she was dreading. It sort of hung around her, like a bad smell. A well-intentioned bad smell if that made any sense. Like one of those perfumes that in theory should smell good but ends up being way too pungent. It fills your lungs and makes you choke a little bit. Suffocating you with sweetness. Strangling you with solicitation. That kind of smell. Gwen wished she could just wave her hand and fan those words away, making them disappear like molecules dispersing in the air. Unfortunately that wasn't quite how things worked. Especially with someone as persistent as Lydia.

Actually, Gwen was surprised that it had taken this long to get to the topic. She had expected to arrive back home from school and get an interrogation while she was still on the freaking stoop. Right before she managed to grab hold of the handle, the door would violently swing open to reveal Lydia, her eyebrows raised expectantly. First she would look over Gwen's shoulder to make sure her car was intact. Then her eyes would travel back to Gwen and she would ask that dreaded question. "How did it go?"

But Lydia hadn't opened the door. There was no slightly judgmental but overall well-meaning 'harrumph'. The house was just plain empty. Gwen wasn't sure if that made her feel relieved or just….sad. As much as she tried to avoid people these days, being alone in a big house—footsteps echoing against the walls—made it feel too much like she was back in her parents house. And when she was in that Pottery Barn catalogue of a house, she would call Liv. Liv wasn't exactly picking up anymore. All she got was that prank phone message where Liv pretended to pick up the phone, followed by a 'gotcha, sucker!' and an agonizing beep. So she did what she usually did. She closed herself in her room, put her headphones on and crank up the music until she couldn't hear the silence anymore.

Lydia didn't get home until late that night. Really late. All the light had long been turned off, the streets quiet and all reasonable people fast asleep. If it wasn't for her freaking insomnia she would have been one of them. The clock was blinking 12:44 when she heard the car door slam shut. It read 12:52 when the light in the bathroom down the hall switched on, the faint light leaking through the crack under Gwen's door. She could have wrenched the door open and stood in the hallway with that patented judge-y look all the women in their family seemed to share and ask what the hell she had been doing that kept her out so late, but she didn't. For some stupid reason she thought that if she didn't bother Lydia about her late-night mystery excursions (and Mexico), then Lydia would let her be as well. Live and let live—that kind of thing.

Well that was a freaking stupid thought. An idiotic thought. Lydia was never the type to 'let things go'. Gwen should have known that because neither was she. Another shared family trait—they were really bad at letting things go. Once they were invested in something, there was very little that could deter them. And now she was locked in a car with the girl. They were encased in a freaking hermetically sealed box, hurtling in the direction of school. No escape. So Gwen took the only escape route she could think of. When Lydia asked 'how did it go?', she pretended she was asleep.

You can imagine how well that went.

All of the sudden a Gwen felt a gentle but forceful thwack over the head, jolting her out of her feigned unconsciousness. "Hey!" Gwen hissed, jumping in her seat a bit. "What was that for?"

"For ignoring me," Lydia chirped back.

Gwen rubbed the side of her head theatrically, pretending that it actually hurt. "I wasn't ignoring you," she protested. "I was sleeping."

Lydia didn't even bother saying anything in response to that one. She just raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips slightly in a highly skeptical expression. Gwen let out a groan

and collapsed back in her seat, staring absently out the window at all the trees flying past. Lydia scoffed at the maintained silence and lightly whacked her again. "So are you going to answer my question or not?" she demanded. "How did it go?"

"It went fine," Gwen sighed. "Teachers taught, students studied, everybody performed their agreed-upon roles. It was spectacularly normal. And by normal I obviously mean boring."

"Seriously?" Lydia demanded. "That's it? That's all you've got to say?"

"Was I supposed to be more enthusiastic?" Gwen sat up straighter and pasted a huge, fake grin on her face. "It was super-duper awesome," she chirped, lifting her hands in the air and waving them in some sad attempt at jazz-hands. "Learning! Whee!"

"Whee?" Lydia demanded, scrunching up her face into an expression of distaste. "Are you kidding me?"

"Just trying to give it a little color."

"Oh my God!" Lydia whined. "Can I just get a straight answer out of you?"

"It was fine, Lydia," Gwen insisted. "School was school. Paper, pens, bad cafeteria food, that feeling of resentment wafting off all the teachers who have definitely started to hate their students. Same as always. There's nothing all that exciting about Beacon Hills High School."

An almost amused snort forced itself out of Lydia's nose, making Gwen furrow her brow slightly. It sounded like a 'you have no idea' type of snort. But before she could comment, Lydia quickly brushed past it, going on the offensive with even more questions. "And did you make any new friends?" Lydia drawled out, clearly becoming frustrated with Gwen's evasiveness.

Gwen stared down at her hands and pulled idly at the hem of the giant smiley-face T-shirt she was wearing—the grin on it so wide it almost became menacing. She began touching all the fingers of her left hand to the thumb again, seeing how far she could get before the tremors started. She got to seven.

"It's a little early to tell, don't you think?" she muttered quietly.

"Did you try to make friends?" When Gwen remained quiet Lydia rolled her eyes in frustration. "Okay, who did you eat lunch with?" she barreled on, trying to find something to build off of.

"Amy Elliott and Nick Dunne," Gwen mumbled.

Immediately Lydia narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. "Amy Elliott and Nick Dunne," Lydia repeated, the frustration in her voice becoming more and more pronounced.

"Mm-hm."

Lydia let out a disappointed sigh and shook her head a little bit. When she shifted in her seat to look at Gwen, the expression on her face was simultaneously accusatory and disappointed. "Amy Elliott and Nick Dunne are the main characters in 'Gone Girl'. You read a book during lunch?"

"Yeah," Gwen said with a defensive shrug. "So what?"

"So books are not a substitute for human interaction!" Lydia exclaimed, tapping a finger forcefully against the steering wheel.

"You're right," Gwen agreed, bobbing her head a bit. "They're infinitely superior to human interaction. "

"Really? How do you figure that?"

"You can pick them up and put them down," Gwen replied easily. "They'll always be there. They're dependable. You can take them at face value. You don't have to worry about books turning into gigantic assholes or bailing on you. You don't have to worry about them d—"

Immediately Gwen's mouth snapped shut. She had almost gone and said it. The 'd' word. And in such a freaking casual way too. It was a word she tried not to say very often. It just seemed so…permanent. It wasn't like Gwen was expecting anything to change, she just didn't like the idea of having the word out there. And she really didn't like the idea of her being the one who put it out there. Gwen's jaw twitched violently, but she kept her teeth clenched together as she went back to staring out the window.

When did it start getting any easier? It had been over four months—four solid months—and it was still there, all the time. That hollow pain in her chest. You think it would have dulled some by now, right? But it didn't. Because every morning when she woke up there were still those moments of bleary-eyed confusion, and then she would have to remember all over again that Liv was dead. The knife was jabbed in her gut all over again. Each time the sun rose it brought a fresh new hell. How the hell are you supposed to get over something when you have wake up realizing your best friend is dead every freaking day?

It didn't matter that the music was quietly blaring out the stereo. The next few moments felt completely silent. Every breath, every heavy swallow, every noise felt like it echoed against the walls of the car. It took a while for either of them to speak again. "Gwen," Lydia said, her voice suddenly a lot softer. "You don't have to feel guilty."

"Why would I feel guilty?" Gwen shot back, the sentence coming out brusque, harsh, and way too quick to be genuine.

Lydia glanced ay Gwen out of the corner of her eye, shooting her a knowing expression. "Letting things get back to normal—letting yourself feel normal…it doesn't mean you're forgetting her."

"There's no way I'm going back to what I was before," Gwen muttered. "That girl was a naïve idiot."

"You don't have to go back to…whatever you were before," Lydia replied quietly. "It's just…moving on—going on with your life—it doesn't mean that you're leaving her behind. But keeping yourself unhappy forever…..Allison wouldn't have wanted that for me. Liv wouldn't want it for you."

Lydia might have said more, but they were already pulling up in the school parking lot. The tension remained thick in the car as they circled the lot, looking for a place to park. This is why Gwen avoided other people. It wasn't just because 99.9% of them were unbearable to be around. It was because she didn't know how to act around them anymore, including Lydia. But Lydia was willing to hang around long enough for her to figure it out. Other people….in her experience other people weren't quite so patient. And if they weren't….well then they wouldn't be worth her time in the first place, were they?

After pulling into a parking spot right out by the lacrosse field, Lydia sighed heavily and ran a hand through her red hair before turning to face Gwen fully. "You said you wanted a fresh start, right? If you want a fresh start, you actually have to start. You have to try." She reached up and smoothed back some of the unruly, flyaway hairs that had managed to escape from Gwen's messy braid. Pressing her lips together in a thin smile, she looked at Gwen with a sort of tender sympathy. "Look, I'm going to give you a piece of advice that is incredibly generic and cliché, but usually ends up being pretty accurate. Just go out there and be yourself."

"You mean bitchy, defensive, and being a general pain in the ass?" Gwen asked, a slightly humorous smirk pulling at the corners of her lips.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at Gwen, but her lips turned upwards as well. "Get out of this car and be the charming little Gwen I know you can be."

"Charming?" Gwen demanded, raising her eyebrows skeptically. "Do we think that's likely?"

"I'll settle for 'not scary'," Lydia replied, widening her eyes innocently.

Gwen let out a light chuckle and rolled her eyes a bit before reaching to unbuckle her seat belt. "It's a lot to ask, but I'll do my best."

With that, Gwen slid out of the car and slammed the door behind her before marching towards the front door of the school. Before she reached it, though, she spared one last glance over her shoulder. Lydia was still sitting in the driver's seat of the car, absently staring out of the window in front of her. Gwen paused a moment to watch her. The girl just sat there for a moment, her face almost vacant but with a hint of sadness behind the eyes. Then, all of the sudden, she gave a slight start, seeming to snap herself out of whatever reverie she had lapsed into. She flipped the visor down, checking herself in the mirror quickly before flipping it shut again and making a move to get out of the car.

It was in both of them—the hollow ache. Gwen could still see it in her cousin's eyes. There was that same missing piece from both of them. But somehow Lydia managed to soldier through it. While Gwen had completely retreated into herself and turned into a hostile, antisocial weirdo, Lydia had kept herself together more or less. Maybe it was that she had something in her that Gwen just didn't. Maybe it was that she was stronger. Maybe if Gwen tried harder, she could be more like her cousin. She could try filling that hole in her chest instead of just ignoring it and hoping it would go away. But she wasn't ready to try—not yet anyway. Trying just led to disappointment. Wasted effort and wasted time. And if Lydia asked her who she ate lunch with that day, her answer would probably be Edmund Dantes.

Or at least that was the plan.

Over the past few months, Gwen had developed a strategy for dealing with school. It entailed the minimization of interpersonal communication. She lingered at her locker, she sat in the back of classrooms, she sat at the lunch tables on the periphery of the cafeteria, headphones on and book in hand. A couple of isolating mechanisms, a few ways to waste time, it all added up. The formula was easy, and it worked well. Especially back in Devenford Prep where nobody was eager to talk to her in the first place. So she stuck to it.

As soon as the lunch bell rang, releasing her from the confines of one of the duller history classes she had been forced to attend, she pushed her way through the lunch line, collected the hockey puck of 'ground beef' that was probably supposed to be a hamburger, and dropped her tray at one of the tables near the window. Pulling out her iPhone, she bumped up the volume until she couldn't hear the sound of people chatting around her and pulled out her heavily worn copy of 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. But she only managed to get a few pages in and swallow down a few nibbles of her burger before a second tray slammed down right next to her.

Jumping in surprise, Gwen slammed her book shut and yanked off her headphones. "What the hell?" she practically shouted, her head snapping around so she glower at whoever it was that had intruded on her personal bubble. But her angry glares were met with a beatific smile.

"Hey!"

Sitting right opposite her was Mason…..well she didn't actually know his last name. The guy from math class. The grinning 'welcome wagon' guy. The guy whose cheerful overtures she had unceremoniously refused the other day. From previous experience yesterday's brusque and semi-hostile dismissal should have been enough to drive him off, but here he was, sitting in front of her looking as cheerful and friendly as ever. Gwen narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"I'm eating lunch," he said lightly. He scooped up a forkful of the grayish glop on the plate and let it splatter back down on the tray, wrinkling his nose slightly. "If we can call it lunch," he continued. "I mean does this actually look like food to you? Do you think the administration is trying to poison us? I think that might be a distinct possibility." He looked at her expectantly, like he expected her to say something in response. When she didn't, his eyebrows drew together in a quizzical, curious frown. "You're not much of a 'talker' are you?"

"Not so much, no," Gwen replied a bit snappishly. "I kind of clashes with the whole 'loner' vibe I've been putting out there. You know, 'loner' as in alone. As in by yourself. As in solitary."

But Mason just nodded his head along with her words, remaining intentionally oblivious. "Yeah, I can see how that might be an issue," he said, taking another bite of whatever the hell that it was on their plates.

Gwen scrunched up her face in confusion, cocking her head to the side as she surveyed him. "Okay, seriously, dude," she scoffed, shaking her head at him. "Why the hell are you here? I know it's not because you're hitting on me. I'm definitely not your type."

"Really?" Mason demanded, giving her a funny look. "How do you figure that? You're kinda hot in a 'don't look at me too long or I might shiv you' kind of way."

Gwen exhaled sharply in a way that almost resembled a laugh. That was new. It had been a while before someone other than Lydia or her aunt Natalie had made her want to laugh. Ugh. Welcome wagon guy wasn't just nice. He was nice and funny—charming even. And not that sleazy type of charming made you want to punch them in the face, but the genuine type of charming. Gwen kind of hated him for making it so impossible to hate him.

"That might be true," Gwen said, bobbing her head along with her words. "But I still don't think it'd work out. Like on a chromosomal level, I don't think it's a right fit."

Mason made a face at her. "I don't think I'm following you."

"You're a teenage boy I've spoken to twice, who has sat next to me through some excruciatingly boring math classes, and who has yet to even attempt to check out my boobs," she drawled out, waving her hands in the general area of her chest. "Either you're gay or super-repressed. You are way too self-aware to be super-repressed."

Mason let out a light snort and raised his eyebrows at her, but his eyes still didn't travel any lower than her own. "Maybe I'm just polite," he suggested.

It was Gwen's turn to snort, only hers was a bit more harsh. "Did you miss the 'horny teenage boy' part of that sentence?" she shot back with a sly smirk.

"You didn't say horny before," Mason pointed out.

"Yeah, that's because it goes without saying. It's a general state of being."

Mason let out a bark of laughter. "That's a fair point. You…..you are very observant."

Gwen jerked her head to the side noncommittally. "I do my best. Now are you actually going to tell me why you're here?"

When he didn't respond immediately, Gwen pressed her lips together in a thin line. She began to drum her fingers against the table in a way that was more than slightly passive-aggressive. The sound filled the air between them, an impatient challenge for Mason to actually answer the question put to him. Again, where most people would have gotten pissed and left, Mason just smiled. Again. Seriously, all the guy seemed to do was smile. How was it possible for someone to be that laid-back? Or that happy? Blowing out a long breath, he leaned his elbows on the edge of the table and rested his head on his hands. The two of them had a bit of a staring contest before he spoke again.

"Okay, so I have no idea what a—a 'friendship quota' is," he said using air quotes. "But I've got to say, if I met a sarcastic, moody math genius who can piss off my least favorite teacher by doing exactly what he asks her to do? That girl sounds pretty interesting. If the whole 'friendship quota' is actually a thing, I'd save a spot for someone like that."

Gwen, who was in the middle of chewing the alleged hamburger, coughed loudly, spewing little bits of 'beef' across the table. "You're kidding, right? I've been being a complete bitch to avoid this exact situation. Why would you sign up for that?"

Mason just shrugged. "I have experience dealing with difficult people."

"Do you have experience dealing with people who don't want to be dealt with in the first place?" she deadpanned.

"Do you not remember the part where I said we were friends now?" Mason said, cocking his head to the side and looking at her curiously. "I think I was pretty clear. Plus I literally said it like two seconds ago."

"I don't remember agreeing to it."

"That's okay. You'll catch up."

Gwen opened and closed her mouth a few times, silently stammering in protest, but Mason ignored her. He lifted a single hand, waving a bit, and all the sudden Gwen didn't just have one unwelcome visitor sitting at her table. She had three. All it took was one wave and two more members were summoned from the teeming masses, making a beeline for their—her table. It was her table. She maintained dominion over that table. So why the hell did people keep thinking that it was okay to sit down and talk to her? Apparently it was a hell of a lot easier to be antisocial in a school where like 80% of the people inexplicably hated her.

"Why are there people walking this direction?" she demanded, looking at Mason accusatorially. "Why are there people smiling and waving and headed this way?"

"They're my friends," Mason replied easily. "Calm down. You look like you're about to have an aneurysm."

"Jesus," she whispered, rolling her eyes a bit as the newcomers approached. "What the hell is this—an ice cream social?"

The pair walking to join them—a boy and a girl about her age—both of them pretty hot. Like an improbable degree of hotness. The guy had a jaw so chiseled it could probably cut glass, a boyish smile, and streaked blonde hair. Basically he looked like a life-size Ken doll. Hell, he even had dimples. Gwen didn't trust dimples. And then there was the girl. She was tall and willowy, with light brown skin and long, flowing hair. She almost looked fragile, but there was some vague hostility lurking behind those innocent-looking doe eyes. Gwen wrinkled her nose at them suspiciously. She had become a lot more observant since she realized that people are liars. She had gotten pretty good at spotting the liars too.

"Hey, Mason," the guy said as the two of them slid into the two seats next to Mason, placing their trays on the table almost in unison.. All the sudden there were three of them all in a row, staring her down. It felt kind of like sitting in front of a firing squad, except everyone seemed to be smiling. "So," Blondie drawled out, swagger seeping out of most of his pores. "Who's the newb?"

"Who the hell are you calling a 'newb'?" Gwen shot back, somewhat snappishly.

"Guys, this is Gwen," Mason answered cheerful, waving vaguely in Gwen's direction. "Gwen, meet Garrett and Violet."

"It's nice to meet you," Violet said. Her voice was sweet, but her eyes still had that kind of edge to them, giving Gwen the distinct feeling that she was being measured up—evaluated. Like she was a threat or something. Or maybe that was her new inherent suspicion of other people talking. She took another bite of her hamburger, a small crease forming between her eyebrows as she surveyed them.

"Sure."

After her monosyllabic answer, a short silence hung around the table. Which Gwen was fine with. She had a knack for making other people uncomfortable, and watching them squirm a bit as they tried to deal with her had kind of become a new pastime for her. Better than reality TV. Mason just rolled his eyes heavily and gave her this peeved look.

It was Blondie who spoke first. "So. What are we doing this weekend?"

Immediately, the other two members of the trio groaned heavily. They were smiling a bit too, though. Like it was some sort of inside joke.

"Seriously?" Violet said, her lips quirking up a bit at the corners. "It's only Tuesday. How are you thinking about this already?"

"That's what weekends are for, isn't it?" Garrett replied easily. "It's to give us something to look forward to so we don't go absolutely bat crap crazy during the week. And I, for one, would to be looking forward to something awesome. If I have to spend another weekend watching Netflix in my pajamas, I might have to kill myself. Seriously." He shifted his gaze to Gwen, smiling a bit. The light glinted off of his impossibly white teeth in a way that kind of menacing. "What about you, new girl?" he said, nodding in her direction. "You know about anything entertaining going on in this wasteland of fun."

"I was gonna hold a séance and try to raise my satanic overlord from the fiery pit of hell," she deadpanned.

At that Mason started laughing a loud cough, choking a bit on his food. "Sh—she's kidding," he laughed out uncomfortably before glancing at Gwen out of corner of his eye. "You are kidding, right?"

Gwen just took a sip out of her water bottle and shrugged. "It's a full moon this weekend," she drawled out. "If there ever was a time to do it….."

Then she heard another laugh, only this one wasn't uncomfortable. It was genuinely amused. Gwen turned towards the source of the noise to find Violet smiling again. This time it reached her eyes—the first genuine smile she had seen from the girl. She nodded at Gwen appreciatively. "You're a little crazy, aren't you?"

Again, Gwen just shrugged, making Violet smile even wider. "You've got a little edge to you," she said, nodding slowly before facing Mason. "I like her. Good find, Mason."

"Good find?" Gwen drawled out, raising her eyebrows. "What am I, a lost puppy you've decided to adopt?"

They seemed to ignore that quip. "Sooooooo," Garrett said, leaning in over the table. "You're new here?"

Gwen's face pinched in a bit. This conversation was quickly being steered towards her least favorite type of conversation. The 'get to know you' conversation. It pretty much consisted of other people asking you questions and looking at you expectantly until you answered them. For someone who hated questions, it was pretty much a complete nightmare. She leaned backwards in her chair, putting as much distance between her and the three others as possible and folding her arms across her chest defensively. She knew the strategy for this kind of thing. Use evasive responses, use as few syllables as possible, and, if possible, answer a question with a question. "So what if I'm new here?" she shot back.

"We just moved here a couple of months ago," Violet said, draping her arm over Garrett's shoulder in a way that seemed more than a little intimate—almost possessive. "It's always nice to have meat a little fresher than you."

"Okay," Gwen muttered, slightly put off by the vaguely morbid wording. "Glad to help."

Garrett reached up grabbing hold of Violet's hand as he looked at her in a way that seemed to be both casual and calculating. "So Gwen," Garrett continued. "What's your deal?"

"My deal?"

"Likes, dislikes, interests, hobbies…." he drawled out, bobbing his head a bit. "What are all those fascinating little details that add up to make you you?"

"Not all that much to say," Gwen replied easily. "I am exceptionally boring."

A slightly smug smirk quirked at the corners of Garrett's lips, making Gwen's face contort into a slightly perturbed expression. "I get it," he said. "Trying to stay all mysterious. We all like our secrets."

"You'll have to forgive my friends," Mason interjected, smacking Garrett in the shoulder. "They have limited social skills." He turned to Gwen with an apologetic look. "How about we start with some questions that aren't phrased in an exceptionally creepy way. What brings you to Beacon Hills?"

Gwen frowned, tapping her plastic spork against the edge of her plate. She could continue to avoid all the questions. She could do so very easily. But that was the thing about being overly withholding. If you tried to be too secretive, it would just make people even more curious. Share a limited amount, choose the details you can share and you can control the situation. "My parents are abroad so I moved in with my aunt and cousin," she replied. "New home, new school, new lease on life. Blah, blah, blah."

"Where did you transfer from?"

"The portal to hell that is Devenford Prep."

Something in that sentence made Mason blink in surprise, a weird, befuddled expression covering his face. Like he had just had some grand sweeping realization. Then a massive shit-eating grin covered his face. He let out a laugh and shook his head at her. "You went to Devenford Prep?" he demanded in a weirdly giddy tone. "Your name is Gwen and you went to Devenford Prep?"

"Yeah…" Gwen said, the frown on her face deepening slightly. "Devenford Prep—your big lacrosse rival. Don't worry, I hate them more that you do at this point."

"No," Mason said, shaking his head and looking weirdly pleased with the situation. "I just—I think you might know a friend of mine. He actually transferred here from Devenford too."

Gwen felt herself go cold. She was pretty sure she even paled slightly. Great. Perfect. No matter how much she tried to avoid her past, it continually came back to bite her in the ass. At every possible turn. Recognition slapped her across the face, leaving behind a nasty sting. It had been a long time, but this wasn't the first time she had ever seen Mason. The Mason sitting across from her—the one person she had met recently that she could see herself actually liking—was Liam's Mason. Liam's best friend. Of course. Gwen sighed and lifted her hands to her face, pushing her messy hair out of her face. "Liam Dunbar?" she muttered quietly.

"Yeah!" Mason let out a laugh—one of those 'this is quite the coincidence' laughs—and squinted at her like he was trying to remember something. "You know, I think I remember seeing you before, actually. Birthday party a couple of years ago? Only you looked pretty different then. I'm pretty sure you were carrying a Tupperware filled with cupcakes. Made from scratch."

"Yeah, well things change," Gwen sighed in frustration. "I'm a big fan of Betty Crocker mixes now."

"Liam is going to flip when he finds out you're here," Mason said cheerfully. He looked down at his watch impatiently. "Man what is taking him so long? He was supposed to meet me here like fifteen minutes ago." And then, with almost comically perfect timing, Mason looked up over her shoulder, waving at some figure behind her. "Hey! Over here!"

Gwen's eyes fell shut, just waiting for confirmation of what she already suspected was about to happen. The sound of feet pounding against the checkered laminate tiles echoed above the general din of the cafeteria. And then she heard it. The voice that she had been trying so very hard to avoid.

"Hey guys," Liam said from somewhere behind her. "Sorry I'm late. Mr. Adams held me up a bit after history to give me another freaking lecture. Apparently we're supposed to stay awake during class. Snoring is frowned upon."

Gwen kept her back turned to him, staring straight ahead, focusing on the gray bricks of the wall opposite her. She gritted her teeth and prayed that she could just dematerialize and float away on that annoying draft that was hitting the back of her neck. All of the sudden, the plastic orange chair next to her was wrenched out and a figure collapsed into it, slamming a tray down in the process. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Liam's head slowly turning in her direction. Gwen sucked in a deep breath, steeling herself for the reaction.

As soon as he actually caught sight of her, the smile dropped off Liam's face and it froze in an expression of shock. Eyes wide open, mouth open….he kind of looked like a scared baby. "G—Gwen?" he said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Gwen pressed her lips together in a tight, grim smile. "Hey," she replied dully.

Much like the last time they spoke—'spoke' being a generous term, they had only exchanged a single word—Liam seemed to be kind of at a loss. And this time wasn't shaping up to be any different. She didn't understand why he was so surprised. He knew she went to this school. But here he was, gaping at her again like she was some freak carnival side-show. Gwen bit the inside of her cheek, actively trying to distract herself from the level of awkward that seemed to be hovering around the two of them, but it turns out that was kind of impossible. When someone is looking at you all bug-eyed, awkwardness is kind of inevitable. There was a weird pause of about five seconds where nobody said or did anything. And in those five seconds, Gwen made up her mind. She wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Yeah—I'm gonna go," she said, snatching up her things and shoving them in her backpack as quickly as possible.

All of the sudden Liam seemed to snap out of whatever panicky trance he went into, shaking his head like he was trying to reorient his thoughts. "Gwen, wait—"

But she was already on her feet, ready to leave. "See you guys around," she said, directing a long wave at the three people sitting opposite her. "It wasn't terrible meeting you."

With that brief goodbye she spun on her heel and began marching in the opposite direction. Her stomach was still grumbling with the tiniest bit of hunger, but she ignored it. There was no way she was walking back into….whatever the hell that was. Nope. She would satisfy herself with the vending machines near the lacrosse field. Doritos and Butterfingers constituted a well-balanced meal, right? She shoved her way through the double doors of the cafeteria and began marching down the hallway, headed in no particular direction. She didn't manage to get that far, though. After making it about seven long strides down the hall, she heard the loud bang of the doors being thrown open a second time.

"Gwen!" Liam's voice called after her. "Hey, Gwen!"

But Gwen didn't respond. She sucked in a deep breath and picked up her speed to the point where she was in that weird pace somewhere between walking and running. Apparently it still wasn't enough. She felt kind of like one of the characters in a horror movie where no matter how fast they run, the serial killer stalking them can walk calmly an still catch up easily. It only took a few moments for her to feel the hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to stop.

"Gw—"

"What?!" The sound of Gwen's voice echoed against the cold metal of the lockers. She stopped short and spun around, throwing his hand off her shoulder in the process. Liam blinked in surprise at her sudden shout and took a few steps back. Gwen threw her hands in the air and let them collapse back to her sides. "Seriously, Liam. What? What do you want?"

He held his hands up in the air like she had suddenly pulled a gun on him or something. He was trying to placate her—to calm her down. "I just want to talk," he said gently.

A loud, passive-aggressive laugh burbled out of her throat, almost of its own accord. "Liam, we haven't spoken in like three months. What could we possibly have to talk about now? I'm serious, if you've got anything to say, then go ahead and say it."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised expectantly, and waited for him to speak. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like he was trying to find the words, but no sound came out. He remained completely silent, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. Gwen let out a snort and shook her head at him. "Well," she enunciated carefully. "That was absolutely fascinating. Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go make a map of all this school's vending machines. Have a nice life."

She spun around and set down the hallway again, but before she had the chance to take a single step Liam somehow managed to dodge in front of her, the soles of his sneakers squeaking loudly against the tile. Squeezing her eyes shut, Gwen let out a groan of frustration. "Liam, what are you doing here?" she sighed out, exhaustion entering her tone.

Suddenly Liam became fidgety, shifting on his feet. "I transferred," he mumbled. "Same as you."

"No," Gwen said, shaking her head. "No, I don't mean what are you doing at Beacon Hills High. I don't care why you transferred. I mean why are you here, talking to me."

Liam exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging forwards a bit like he was deflating. He looked up at her with a slightly dejected, puppy dog expression that almost made her want to soften up a little bit. Almost. "Come on, Gwen," he said, shrugging sadly. "We were friends."

"Yeah," she said, nodding in agreement. "We were friends. Were. Note the use of the past tense."

"We're both new here," he protested. "We don't know anybody else here and—"

"I don't want to know anybody else here, Liam!" she hissed. "That was kind of the point of moving in the first place. I didn't want—" Gwen looked down at her feet for a moment, sucking in a deep, calming breath, steeling her nerves. Dredging up the past never ended well, and Liam? He was a walking, talking representative of her past. But she wasn't going to lose her shit. Not here and not in front of him. When she glanced back up at him, the forlorn expression on his face made her stomach twist a bit. "It's a big school," she muttered quietly. "We'll be able to keep to ourselves just fine. Good luck, Liam."

And with one big pat on his shoulder, she pushed past him, continuing on her quest for Doritos. She could feel it though—his eyes on her back as she walked away. She didn't like the feeling twisting in the pit of her stomach. Guilt. She had no reason to feel guilty for brushing him off like that. Not after what he had done. Not after what he had been a part of. That twinge of guilt that she felt? It was overwhelmed by a hearty helping of bitterness. And that was the reason she didn't look back over her shoulder before turning the corner. But turning the corner didn't stop her from hearing the sound of a fist hitting the lockers. Several times.

It was strange how things could disintegrate. What once seemed so solid and tangible and absolutely perfect could just crumble into dust. It was strange to think that she had been happy once. Sure she still had all the memories, but they didn't feel like they were part of her life anymore. There was a physical line that could be drawn between then and now. Whenever she thought about her life before—whenever she pictured those memories in her head—it felt like she was staring at a photo album. One where all the pictures had aged a bit—worn and yellowed and generally reeking of nostalgia. Pictures of people laughing and smiling. Liam….he had been a fair number of pictures. But she had finished that photo album. She had closed the book on it.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Just the way she liked it. It was dedicated to droning teachers giving boring lectures, getting jostled in the hallway by crazed students, and developing scoliosis hauling around those ridiculously heavy backpacks. All of the normal, depressing things that teenagers are normally legally obligated to deal with.

When the final bell rang, Gwen faded into the tide of students. It was easy to become part of that ebb and flow. It was a good place to hide. She pulled her headphones over her ears and let the music wash over her, sapping away all the stress. She swapped the books out of her locker and continued on to the parking lot, navigating her way through the crowd until she found the way to Lydia's car. As per usual, the redhead was running late, so Gwen perched herself on the hood, sliding on her sunglasses before leaning back with her fingers laced behind her head.

The rays of the sun hit he face, soft and warm. She honestly could have fallen asleep there. Hell, she almost did. Her mind had been lulled into that place between sleeping and waking when all the sudden some unseen force swatted at her legs, shoving her feet from where they rested on the bumper. At the sudden loss of balance, Gwen gave a loud yelp and spasmed violently, rolling off the hood of the car and collapsing on the ground. When she opened her eyes the sun blinded her, the light washing out all her surroundings. The sounds of heels clacked against the ground next to her until the figure wearing them leaned forwards, blocking out the sun and allowing Gwen to see the red hair and judgmental look. "What have I told you about sitting on my car?" Lydia demanded. "You're going to scratch the paint."

Gwen let out a scoff and pushed herself back up to her feet, brushing off her clothes. "I'm fine, thanks for asking," she muttered. "That didn't hurt at all."

Lydia just rolled her eyes and fished her keys out of her purse, hitting the 'unlock' button and wordlessly slid into the driver's seat.

"I'm sorry, Gwen," Gwen said in the same pathetic, high-pitched voice she always used when she was imitating her cousin. "That was so insensitive of me. Are you alright? And by the way, your hair looks amazing like that! I love you sooooooooooooo much!"

"Are you done?" Lydia's actual voice demanded. "I want to get out of here before midnight. And your impression of me makes me sound like a kindergartener."

"Yeah," Gwen said bluntly. "It's supposed to."

Lydia let out a groan, a 'why me?' expression covering her face. "Just….just get in the car."

Grumbling to herself, Gwen yanked open the passenger door and collapsed into the passenger seat. There was still a little tension between them after their conversation this morning. Neither of them was particularly good at sharing, and every time they did open up it was usually followed by a silence. It was like they were putting distance between themselves and that conversation. The two of them stayed quiet as Lydia started the car. They stayed quiet as Lydia pulled out of the parking lot. Gwen didn't speak at all until they were over half way back to their house.

"I didn't read a book during lunch today."

The words hung in the air for a moment. Gwen's eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror only to find that Lydia's eyes were already there as well, the corners crinkling into a smile.

"Good."

Alright! So there it is! Just so you know, technically this is all happening before 4x03. I'm starting episode 3 in the next chapter (giving Scott & friends a one day break between the Derek drama and the crazed serial killer drama).

Is Liam okay? I'm still not fully versed with his character, but I'm trying to keep him as in-character as possible. I mean yes he has a ton of swagger at some points, but he's also really vulnerable (as demonstrated by him crying while wrapped with duct tape). I thought him getting flustered by Gwen's surprise arrival was realistic.

Also, I hope you are beginning to see the differences between Gwen and Charlie. They're both still sarcastic as hell, but I hope I'm showing that they're very different people.

I really hope you guys like it. Gwen is kind of hostile to…well…everybody, but I hope you still enjoy her character. I hope this showed how she and Mason are going to become friends. She likes him a lot, but she's still trying to hold people at an arm's length. Violet and Garrett she's still not sure of. And Liam…drama! There's a lot of backstory there that I'm going to gradually show over time, but right now….shit went down back at Devenford (to be revealed). It's not necessarily that she hates/dislikes Liam. She just hasn't forgiven him yet. That combined with her new scary and defensive personality leads to bitchiness. I'm going for a character growth arc here. Does that make sense?

Anyhooties, please review. It makes me so very happy. And sorry if this chapter is shit. I've been working from 8:30am to 9:30-10:00pm for the last 2.5 weeks so I'm kinda exhausted.