Chapter 2

"Melanie! Get in here!" Finstock yelled from his classroom.

She stood at her locker, looking for nothing in particular as Scott and Stiles lingered by her and chatted among each other about a video game. Something about zombies or maybe they were experiments gone wrong. She wasn't sure why she was listening. She needed to find girls to be friends with, not that these two idiots were her friends. Allison was a good option. Lydia was attached to her which was the only downside. The ginger could yap for hours about pointless things like her and parties. Melanie looked at her and knew that if circumstances were different she'd be just like her. Thank god they weren't.

Finstock called out her name again causing two girls to jump as they passed by him then hurried off, panicked. Rolling her eyes, Melanie trudged back to the classroom. Scott and Stiles shared a confused look. Neither of them dared to try and listen in after the last time.

What did I do this time, Melanie wondered. She stuffed her hands in her over worn hoodie. Finstock stared at her long and hard. Her eyebrow arched heightening her bored look. She wasn't sure if he was angry or just blatantly confused. His eyes squinted at her.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, holding up her homework.

She looked at the partly crumpled notebook paper in his hands.

"Last night's assignment," she answered blandly.

"This is fantastic work. Why didn't you raise your hand in class?"

"Because I don't care."

"I wish I had more students like you."

"That's nice," she said then turned and walked out of the room.

That was pointless, she thought.

Seeing Scott and Stiles still conversing by her locker, she strode over. Scott straightened up quickly and she knew immediately that they weren't talking about video games anymore. Stiles scratched the back of his head, looking around; the clear sign of a subject change. Werewolf stuff. She paid no mind to the moron. They thought she didn't know. Let them keep keep thinking they knew more. What was the harm in it? They were wary enough of her. No need to make it worse.

"What did Finstock want?" Scott asked.

"He was happy I did homework."

"I do my homework and he doesn't even care!" Stiles exclaimed, his eyes bulging with disbelief. "The only time he was remotely happy was when I tried to-"

"No man." Scott stopped him before he finished with the story.

Stiles shook his head defeated and sighed.

"So what are you doing after school?"

"Work," Scott replied. "A lot of stray animals have been acting weird. A deer hit Lydia and Allison the other night."

"Don't you mean they hit it?" Melanie asked.

"Nope. It came right out and hit them. The antlers are still lodged in the windshield."

"Why didn't Lydia tell me? That's important information," Stiles said, hurt.

"Because she doesn't care," Melanie said bluntly.

Scott snorted with a goofy grin, his eyebrows wiggling in obvious agreement. Stiles scowled mockingly, hating that she was right.

"Just saying," she added then parted into her last class.

"You think she knows?" Stiles asked, peeking back over his shoulder obviously. She took her hood down. It took all week for that to come down and she was still frigid, only sarcastically frigid. Danny said that she barely had any furniture in her place too. It was like she had something to hide…maybe. That or she just had it too rough. It was hard to tell.

"Knows what?" Scott asked.

"You know what!?"

"No Stiles, I don't think she knows I'm a werewolf," Scott said, rolling his eyes. Why was he trying to find something wrong with her?

"She looks like she has that intuition thing that would tell her which people are hiding things, deep, dark, hideous-"

"Yes. Your point?" Scott gritted out, stopping his rambling.

"She's also getting to be good friends with our buddy Isaac. Did you see Isaac with Allison?" Dark sarcasm poured out of his mouth as he spoke.

"So?"

"She's your ex, and he's your friend. Can we really call him a friend? Can we call her a friend?" Stiles narrowed his eyes at Scott. The two had a tender past, him and Allison. He still had to have feelings for her. He was just good at putting up a front. It didn't help that Isaac was being friendly with the new girl.

"It's okay, really."

"Is it really?" Stiles inched closer trying to see through the facade the young wolf was supposedly putting up.

"Yes," Scott put his palm to his friend's face and pushed him away before walking into class. "Don't worry about Melanie. I think we would've found out something weird by now if there anything going on."

"A deer hit Lydia and Allison," Stiles pointed out, sitting down and leaning into the aisle, whisper to Scott.

Scott paused. That was weird, and a week after Melanie came to town. Stiles nodded, proud of his detective work. He had to of had too much Adderall today.

Stiles sat back in his seat, tapping his thumbs on the edge of his desk. He was determined to find out anything on Melanie. What was he hoping to find?

"That doesn't mean it's her fault," Scott whispered.

"It does!" Stiles whispered, lurching forward.

"Does not!" Scott spun around with an intense glare.

"Haven't left yet? I'm in utter shock," Isaac said, coming up alongside Melanie's locker. He held his chest, leaning back against the lockers.

She shoved her history book into the only for her math book to come tumbling at her. Right as she caught it, his hand covered hers, catching it as well. Both hands pushed the book back into the confined space slowly. She ignored the warming sensation of his touch and let go of the book, shutting her locker quickly.

"Me too," Melanie said, ignoring the interaction. A shock shot up her arm to her shoulder from the light touch. She stretched her fingers at her side, flexing her hand as it shook.

"Hey Melanie," Allison said, coming up beside Isaac. Lydia stood next to her. He wound his arm around her, hugging her close. A weird pang stung Melanie from the sight. It was strange. She found them unbearably sweet together, but it hurt.

Melanie just nodded and smirked at Lydia who glared at her, waiting for her to say it, daring her to. Her red lipstick was brighter than usual.

"Later," Melanie said and walked off. "See you tomorrow, ginger."

Lydia's lips twitched, her nostrils flaring. She held up her finger sternly, knowing that Allison was biting her nails to stop herself from laughing. Isaac was staring at anything but her, his expression completely blank. Melanie didn't have to look back to know.

"Not a word," She gritted out at them.

"At least she isn't completely unsocial anymore." Allison said.

"I preferred it that way." Lydia frowned, her hip popping to one side, then spinning on her heel she headed the opposite direction.

"I should probably go after her," Allison said, standing up on her tippy toes. Isaac still had to crane his neck to meet her lips for a kiss. "Is it weird that I'm finding Lydia and Melanie's little bickering matches entertaining?"

Isaac chuckled then watched her go. After she was out of sight, her heels clacking at a fast pace he glanced down the other way. Melanie's scent still danced in the air, annoying his senses. His eyes, subtly, glowed a bright, vibrant fuchsia surrounding his pupils. A few blinks washed the color away as if never having been there. Still feeling her skin on his palm, he stretched his fingers, his nails hardening and growing sharp. He hoped it would fade away. Inwardly, he growled to himself.

Melanie stepped into the small house, letting out an exhausted sigh and looked around. What Isaac had said on her first day still resonated in her ears. Tomorrow huh?

Nothing had changed short of by the necessities. The couch was worn in from multiple bodies that had settled comfortably onto it. A few dishes sat in the sink. Nothing in the fridge. Overall, the place remained comfortable enough that she'd be able to pack and run when the situation called for it. She couldn't risk growing attached to anything or anyone anyway. Who knew how hurt they'd get because of her.

Laying down on the couch, she closed her eyes, a single tear strolling across her cheek leaving a small, darkened wet circle on the couch cushion beside her face. She didn't wipe them away, but let them engulf her like she always did from time to time, and slowly fell asleep from exhaustion. Her body trembled painfully.

She always felt lucky if there was a tomorrow.

"She hasn't left for the last six hours. Can we go?" Scott asked.

"No, she could leave after we leave and then we'd never know," Stiles hissed.

"Oh my god," Scott drawled out, dropping his head back on the head rest. His stomach rumbled. Part of him was ready to strangle his best friend for making him miss dinner. "Maybe she's just the new kid."

"Didn't we think that about Allison?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No, Scott. Allison went crazy or did you forget that she literally stabbed Isaac in the back at one point which is weird since they're now dating...Weird stuff is happening again. I'd rather stalk Melanie and be wrong-

"Than not stalk her at all?" Scott finished with a tired sigh.

"When you say it like that it sounds bad." Stiles cringed a little at his words. He didn't want it. It was just expected. Allison, Gerard, they were new. Matt, not so much, but still. Nothing could be taken for granted. "We don't know anything about her. We barely know what she looks like."

"She's a private person." Scott shrugged.

"She's hiding something," Stiles insisted, biting at his thumb cuticle.

Scott's stomach rumbled for the fourth time, and made a loud gurgling roar. Stiles's mouth twisted and his eyes widened.

"Ew," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. His nose scrunched up and his eyebrows pulled together perturbed. "You should've eaten before we left."

Scott stared at him, his eyebrows running a straight line across the top of his eyes in annoyance, only receiving a nonchalant shrug in response. Stiles sunk down in his seat and stared back at the house.

"Are you sure Scott is okay with this," Allison whispered.

"Yeah," he breathed the moved in to kiss her again. She tasted sweet and moved with such sensuality that displayed her agility to maneuver just right with almost no hiccups. Her skin glowed under his touch, her pheromones strong, giving off just how turned on she felt though she acted cautious.

"Isaac," she said, putting her cool fingertips to his lips. A chill ran through his cheeks, making them flush from the simple touch.

"I'm sure. He might've thrown me out of his room, but he's okay," he assured her, tilting her head to the side a little then kissing her fingers then moving upward kissing the back of her hand, her arm, shoulder, neck, causing her to sigh contently, then kissing her soft, plump lips.

He held her there by the nape of the neck, laying her down on her bed. The corner of his lips twitched upward at hearing her heart accelerate.

"Allison, I'm home!"

"Shit!" both teenagers exclaimed simultaneously, looking at the bedroom door with horrified eyes. It was unlocked.

"Go, go, go, go," Allison said, shoving him off. She rushed him to the window as he put his shirt on.

He looked out the window, a three story drop.

"No way," he said gravely. "I'll break something."

"Would you rather break something or get murdered?"

"Right. Out the window," he said. A vivid picture of Chris holding a gun to his face coming to mind made him shiver unpleasantly.

Opening the window, a light breeze disintegrated the remaining desire between them. Sticking one leg out to dangle, the sill creaked. He took a deep breath and leaped, tensing the muscles of his legs. He landed with a thud. Minuscule lines erupted around his feet in the concrete from the impact. There was no loud crack of bone breaking or fracturing. He stayed bent at the knees for a moment, looking up where Allison looked out the window down to him. She still was still only in her bra. The jump was exhilarating. His heart slowed back to its calm pace. Touching his lips, he could still feel hers lips upon his. He glanced up to see her still leaning out the window, her hair shadowing her face.

Turning down the street, he walked back toward the McCall home, and put his hood up. He ran through multiple scenarios about how Scott was going to react upon his return. The questions and accusations were only going to give him a headache again. And, if Scott was going to have a problem with all of this—whatever was happening(Isaac wasn't quite sure about what to call it) then he shouldn't have acted all nonchalant and okay when he asked about dating Allison the first time.

The entire house was dark by the time he got there. Since Derek left town, bent on forcing Isaac to leave, he'd been staying here. Where else was he going to go? Scott was a good friend.

Melissa was nice though. She reminded him of his mom when she was alive and his dad didn't hit him. That was a long time ago.

"Hello?" he called out. The messaging machine blinked with the number one. He pressed play, glancing into the empty living room.

'Hey boys, I'm going to be working over time. There was a really bad car accident. Order pizza or something and don't, I repeat, don't get into trouble.' There was a sigh then. 'I don't even know why I said that. Of course you're going to get into trouble. Just don't get yourself hurt at least.'

Isaac chuckled. Pizza sounds good, he thought to himself and rubbed his stomach. He walked to the kitchen after kicking his shoes off and flipped on the lights.

Yawning, Melanie sat up, rubbing stiffness from her neck. Rolling it from one side to the other to relieve the pinching stiffness, she saw an unmistakable powder blue jeep out the window, parked across the street.

"What the hell?"

She blinked a few times, wondering if it was actually there. The vehicle didn't do any disappearing trick. Not bothering with shoes, she walked outside with every intention of strangling the little wretch who drove the vehicle. The asphalt was cool under her feet, waking her more.

Getting closer, she saw that Scott was with him and they were both asleep. Stiles sat with his head at an awkward angle between the head rest and door, his seat belt trying to strangle him. Scott just sat back with one knee propped on the dashboard and his head tilted to his shoulder. If Melanie wasn't so annoyed, this would've been kind of cute. Definitely picture worthy and blackmail worthy.

She leaned on the window sill as it was rolled down and peered at the two. Reaching in, she pressed the center of the steering wheel. A loud honk erupted and both boys shot forward. Melanie struggled to bite back her laughter at seeing Stiles nearly choke himself. He gurgled as the band of the seat belt tightened instantly on his neck from the sudden wake. Scott's knee shot up and him him in the face; groaning mixed with his slightly twisted facial expression.

"Answer honestly and I won't smack you," she said bluntly. "How did you find my house and why are you here?"

"Uhhhhh," Scott said, gulping.

"I found your address in the records at school and you're suspicious," Stiles blurted, his head spazzing accusingly while putting great emphasis on the word suspicious.

Rolling her eyes, she looked from Scott to him. Suspicious, she thought, what a dumbass.

"You're a dumbass. Why am I suspicious?" she asked flatly, gripping the window sill tightly. Her knuckles turned white.

"Nobody knows anything about you. It's a little strange and you're mean." He pointed at her, scowling. "You don't talk about your parents and I'm starting to wonder if you even have parents. And by the looks of it, your house is empty. Who lives in an an empty house!?" Stiles listed the reasons on his fingers. One of them was serial killer.

"Isaac doesn't have parents," Melanie pointed out, hoping he'd drop the subject. She wasn't the only teenager around who didn't have parents around. Being singled out was pissing her off.

"His are dead," he retorted harshly, making Melanie flinch.

The fury washed from Melanie's face instantly replaced with a pale contrast. Her hands fell to her side like limp noodles. A sudden numbness filled her from the inside out.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked.

"What do you know? We have something in common," she muttered, looking down at her toes that had chipped sapphire blue nail polish. Three out of ten toes had no nail polish at all.

Turning, she walked back to the house. Pushing the door closed posed a difficult task as she was reminded of one of her worst memories. The night terrors weren't so bad anymore. She usually just dreamt of the dark blackness. That wasn't really dreaming at all. On rare nights fire consumed her, waking her in fits of screams. Sitting back down on the couch, she let out a long, stuttering breath. The imprint of where her head laid before was still there. There was no way she was going back to sleep.

She grabbed her bookbag and pulled out her Chemistry book and notebook.

Melanie kept her hood up as she walked down the hall, the heels of her black velvet boots clacking on the floor, cocky and confident with each step. She ignored the stares directed at her from multiple eyes that walked past or stood at lockers. Making an effort took way too long in the morning, she decided. It used to be easy, but now it was energy draining.

Stopping at her locker, she unzipped her hoodie, pulling back her hood at the same time. Long, luscious, brown locks fell a little past her shoulder blades. Her bangs curved around her face, extending from her cheekbones on down into the length of her hair. She glanced around cautiously through her hair that concealed most of her facial features. Some people slowed their step while walking past her, raking over her body with greedy eyes.

"Get moving!" she snapped at the lingerers. As if having been whipped, they rushed off.

Melanie sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing five piercings along the lobe and up the cartilage; three lining from the lobe up, a small silver hoop at her cartilage, and the last being a rook piercing that was more out toward the cartilage than being so close to her temple. On her other ear she had the three lobe piercings including a single anti-helix way up the cartilage. She touched each earring, making sure that each one had an earring. They mixed and matched only because she hadn't had much time to get new jewelry lately.

She shoved her hoodie into her locker then grabbed her math and chemistry textbook. Goosepimples crawled up the back of her arms. She paused and slowly turned her head, looking over her shoulder. Her hair fell from behind her ear, shielding her eyes like a curtain that smelled faintly of honey. He stared at her, but looked at her too, making it seemingly friendly with that grin. For some reason it didn't feel so friendly. There was a darkening thoughtfulness there.

Melanie turned back to her locker, ignoring Isaac. I'm only taking your advice, she thought to herself.

She looked down at herself one more time. She didn't look half bad and she knew she didn't, but it had been a long time since she tried to look pretty. Tried was the operative word. From the pocket of her hoodie, she pulled out a small, silver, oval shaped canister. Opening it at the end, she tipped it into her hand. A pair of black, plastic frames fell into her hand. She avoided wearing them when she could, especially seince contacts were an option. Lately, having the inability to settle down or even feel settled made contacts impossible to get.

Sliding them up onto her nose, she let out a happy sigh. Her sight wasn't too bad without them, but everything was much clearer with the scratched up lenses. She spun around slowly and smirked, catching the threatened look on Lydia's face as she passed by her. Lydia's lips parted with a tiny huff of shock.

Melanie watched her, smirking with triumph. The feeling as short lived as it was was glorious. It was like being the positive effects of being high. She caught sight of Scott and Stiles. She'd get back to the ginger later.

Her brows formed into a frown at the two morons. They hustled into their first class, resembling prey that was running away and hiding. They couldn't hide forever. There certainly wasn't anywhere to hide.

"This is a change of pace."

Melanie spun and smiled at Danny whose eyes moved from toe to head over her.

"Who are you and where's my hermit?"

"People wouldn't shut up, so I thought I'd revert to my old self."

"This is your old self?" Danny inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, kind of. Moving around a lot made this—" she looked down at herself, pressing the heel of her boot outward, "—pointless."

"Well, people are definitely not going to shut up now."

"I'm gathering that…" she trailed off, seeing two freshman grin at her, scanning over her. They were almost drooling. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. Stupid adolescent boys.

"See you next period," he said, nudging her shoulder playfully.

"Yeah, if I survive the first," she mumbled.

She sat at the back of the class in her usual seat and watched out the window as whispers circulated around her like fog settling on the ground. She pushed her glasses up her nose, hating that they had stretched out so much that the frames barely sat comfortably on her face.

Can I really hide anymore, she wondered. At some point it's going to happen. Somebody is going to die. Hopefully he'll come for me before that happens or maybe nothing will happen. That would be a godsend. The wolves here could mask her scent and protect me making everything okay…

The ringing bell signaling class change made Melanie jump and shut her hopes behind a wall. The classroom was already empty. Hastily, she walked out then diagonally to her next class and paused for only a second at seeing Scott and Stiles already seated. Walking past their lab table, she shoved Stiles's books to the floor.

"Oops," she said, feigning a sympathetic look. "You really shouldn't sit your books so close to the edge."

She sat across from Danny, watching as Stiles picked up his books, grumbling incoherently.

Mr. Harris started class, looking specifically back at Melanie who glared holes into the back the teen boys' heads.

"Why are you staring at Scott and Stiles like you're going to murder them?"

"Because, I haven't decided if I'm going to kill them or not yet. I'm leaning towards killing them," she growled low.

Danny shifted uneasily. Scott and Stiles shared a nervous look, their eyes widening a little. Melanie grinned wider, eviler. Werewolf or not, prying was unacceptable. They had no idea that she was just scaring them. They were too good for her to kill.

"Melanie," Mr. Harris called.

"What?" she spat.

"Why don't you come up here and show the class the formula here,"

He pointed to the board with the piece of chalk in his hand where he'd written out multiple decimal numbers beside his example problem to which she paid no attention. The grin disappeared from her face.

"Why?" she said.

"I'm interested to see how much you know of course," he said condescendingly.

A tight smile spread across Melanie's face as she went to the board. She took the piece of chalk from his hand and started scrawling across the black board, her lips moving as she worked the chemistry problem out. Her hand stretched across the board a few times and after finishing, she stood beside her work proudly. I still got it, she thought, rocking back on her heels.

"Principal's office now," he ordered in a low voice.

"Why? I did what you wanted. I did the problem," she exasperated.

"Now."

Looking back at the problem, she huffed took a step toward the door then paused, looking back at his problem.

"You did it wrong," she said and fixed his problem, erasing some of the work in the process.

Mr. Harris ran his hand through his too greased blonde hair aggressively. Melanie smirked, hearing hushed snickers from her classmates. Mr. Harris just stared, cold and callous, unmoving in his rigid stance with his arms crossed over his chest tightly.

"Right." She set the chalk down in the chalk-tray gingerly, half laughing in an effort to lighten up his mood. His Deathstar glare didn't falter. "Office. Going."

She walked out, stuffing her hands in her pockets with slight difficulty. Stupid skinny jeans. Why did they have to be so tight? They might as well be skin. On the more positive side, they gave anybody who didn't have an ass, an ass. Yay for asses. Melanie rolled her eyes.

Stopping outside the office, she peeked in and saw the sheriff in there. He spoke to the principal. Dodging out of the window, she sat down in one of the two empty seats beside the door. She shifted uncomfortably from the stiffness of the chair.

"Miss Rouxe, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my newest student?"

Melanie peered up and was greeted by two figures of authority. She groaned inwardly at seeing the name on the sheriff's jacket beside the his badge. Stilinski. Great. He didn't look as stupid as his son. Hopefully he wasn't. Then again, what town would appoint a moron as Sheriff? He was smart, no doubt about it, Melanie decided.

"My chemistry teacher is out to get me?" she tried, pursing her lips together, trying to give her best pout.

"My son says the same thing," the sheriff snorted, his head shaking with the snort.

"That won't be the only thing he'll say," she mumbled, her eyes turning to slits.

"Hm?" he said.

"Oh, I just said that he isn't the only one who says that." She smiled, her cheeks hurting a little she smiled so hard.

The sheriff nodded and turned back to the principal, shaking his hand, whispering something. The principal ushered her in to his office after the sheriff walked off. She looked back over her shoulder at the man in the forest green jacket. He spoke into his walkie-talkie.

"It's your third week here and you're in trouble," the principal said.

"Trouble is a strong term. I answered the formula on the board just like Mr. Harris told me and he sent me here. Like I said, he is out to get me. I don't know of any teacher that would send their student to the office because they did something right. This school has a weird reward system." Melanie stopped her rant there before it got too out of control. Saying that something must be stuck sideways up his ass nearly came out next. She was happy the words didn't make their way past her lips.

"At least you're finally coming out of your shell," he commented, shuffling through some papers and files on his desk. Melanie caught glimpses of them. Missing students. Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd. There were others, but those were the ones on top and the only ones she could get a real good glimpse of.

"Define that," she joked.

"You're not hiding under a hood, but your sarcasm has taken on a whole new form,"

"Thank you," Melanie said enthusiastically with a gleeful shrug. "I work hard to keep it in check. It's an art form and takes a lot of talent."

He smirked nodding, his head down as he still organized his paperwork.

"Go. Get out and go to class."

"Okay!" She smiled brightly.

Melanie knew this would happen. By the way he'd acted previously and with everything all over his desk, there was no way she was getting in trouble. Saved by the missing kids. Melanie fist pumped the air in her head, her fingers twitching.

She got up and strutted out past the secretary who scowled, watching her go. She scowled back at her, sticking her upper lip up at her too. Stupid bitch. Don't hate me. You don't even know me, Melanie thought. If she did know her, she'd run screaming. The shrill sound of the bell rang.

"What did you do?"

Melanie jumped and held her chest as if it would keep her heart from exploding from sudden fright. She stared up and wide eyed with every tense muscle slowly relaxing allowing her to breathe again from the sudden fright.

"Besides get scared half to death? Nothing," she said, dropping her hand to her side.

She walked back towards Chemistry. Mr. Harris stood with an arm crossed over his chest and his elbow propped up that arm, staring at the chemistry problem pensively.

"You didn't think I was that smart did you?" Melanie asked, breaking his concentration.

She walked back to where she had been sitting. Her books hadn't been touched.

"It's okay. I get underestimated quite often. Nobody has a clue of what I'm truly capable of."

At those very words, Isaac, who stood in the doorway, listening, shivered. The way she said it was haunting and he believed her. Watching carefully as she moved her hair over to one shoulder, a small tattoo was revealed sitting behind her right ear. Three swirls all connected at the center, just like the one Derek has. A triscele.

Turning, she smiled. Mr. Harris remained quiet and grabbed the eraser in the chalk tray and ran it across both problems, ridding the classroom of his humiliation.

"I'm starving," she said as she and Isaac walked to their next classes. She had English and he had History. They were officially ten minutes late.

Isaac said nothing as he looked down at the floor. He didn't know where else to look with what he just discovered. Stiles was right. There really was something up with her. Maybe that's what was contributing to the weird connection he felt towards her.

"I could go for some pig's feet," she then said, smirking.

"What? Ew," he grimaced.

"Off in la-la land?" She bore a smug grin.

"Yeah, sorry. Didn't sleep well."

"Right, I bet that's what has you distracted." She said sarcastically.

What do you want me to say, he thought. You want me to tell you how suspicious Stiles really is? How I disagreed with him, and now I'm starting think he's right? I don't want to agree with him, but he might be right…

Melanie narrowed her eyes playfully, making him chuckle.

He smirked as Ms. Blake tried to reprimand her. Melanie just waved her off as she found a seat. He lingered for a few second longer, watching how she stared off into space then walked off. He'd see her soon. They had Math together next period with Scott and Lydia.

The chances of her being the person behind the animal attacks was becoming more likely. She didn't feel like a killer. Anybody could look or not look like a killer anymore. But, she didn't feel like it, not with how cautious she was about her surroundings. Even now, she was cautious. It was just less obvious. She wasn't a killer. She wasn't the one Stiles was bent on being a killer. He could feel it in his bones.

Sitting behind Lydia, Melanie smiled at her and Stiles. I will never be late again, Melanie thought.

"What happened?" Stiles asked nodding at Lydia's lightly marred fingers.

"Prada bit me."

"Your dog?" he asked.

You named your dog Prada, Melanie wondered, slightly disturbed, looking at the redhead with raised eyebrows of absurd disbelief.

"No my handbag. Yes, my dog." Lydia hissed.

"That's a little strange don't you think?" he said.

"Why's it strange?" Melanie asked. "She probably irritated it. I'd be irritated all the time if my name was Prada."

They both turned and glared. Scott, sitting on the other side of Stiles, scratched his head and looked across the room trying not to chuckle. Melanie shrugged nonchalantly and looked out the window as Miss Blake discussed the assigned chapters of the book. Heart of Darkness, a book Melanie didn't want to visit again. The Picture of Dorian Grey on the other hand was a delightful novel. Oscar Wilde had a way with words. Melanie couldn't help, but be in love with the man for his gothic work of genius. Fight Club was another personal favorite. Reading had been scarce lately. The last time she had picked up a book for pleasure was—she couldn't remember specifically.

Melanie tilted her head a little, squinting as she looked out the wind; Miss Blake's words not making it to her brain. There were black specs in the distance. Unnerved, her breathing grew shallow. She gripped the edge of her desk tightly. The specs got closer revealing themselves to be crows.

"Stiles," Melanie said in a hushed tone, poking him urgently.

Turning in his seat to reply, he froze, seeing the same egregious disturbance that she saw. The disease infested birds flew around outside aimlessly with no real purpose. Other students began to turn their attention to the crazed squawking and flapping. Miss Blake's words faded as she had also become distracted by the activity as well.

A loud thump resounded against the window across from Melanie. She jumped up out of her seat. Her heart pounded like hoof beats in her chest. After a minute she edged closer to the window. Peering out, a crow laid on the ground, its head at an awkward angle and beak open. Its black beady eyes stared up at nothing.

"Melanie, get away from the window," Miss Blake's voice quivered.

"It broke its neck," Melanie said, still entranced by the dead bird whose right wing twitched.

"Melanie," Scott said sharply.

There was another loud thump. Melanie's head shot up from the sound. Another one hit the window, cracking the glass. She slowly backed away from the windows, bumping into her desk. The screech of the legs pierced through the faint squawking of the black birds.

Lydia jumped as another hit the glass, cracking another window. Her lips were parted, terrified. Her hands were clenched, pressing into her thighs, wrinkling the fabric of her navy blue sundress as she inched backwards carefully.

As if told to strike, the birds turned, rapidly flying at the windows toward them.

"Get down!" Melanie shouted, dropping to the floor.

Curling into a ball on the floor, she covered her head with her hands, her knees throbbing. She held back hisses at feeling nips and pecks at her hands and back. She clenched her eyes shut, her ears ringing with the screams of students, caws and the flapping of wings. She raised her head a little, her chin skidding on the dirty, glass covered floor. Crawling towards the window, she pinned her back against the wall underneath the broken windows, staying on the ground as the ravenous birds flew over her head.

Miss Blake was covering the body of another student behind her desk, continuously screaming to stay down. Stiles and Lydia hid under a desk, his arms covering her protectively. Feathers swirled around the room. Birds dropped having run into walls or plummeting down on people. Melanie's chest tightened as she breathed, her palms pressed hard against the floor. She could feel glass digging into the skin like an itch. A crow skimmed in over her head, making her scream from the hair pull. Instantly, she was pulled downward and covered by a set of strong arms.

The crazed attack ended abruptly suddenly. The remaining birds flew out the way they came. Melanie and Scott sat up slowly. Feathers floated to the floor, swirling down elegantly and devastatingly.

Melanie grumbled in disgust at seeing a crow at her feet with its wing nearly ripped off. She kicked it away.

"Is everyone okay?" Miss Blake called out, her voice trembling. She rose from the ground and helped the student she'd been shielding.

"Mel, your hands," Scott said.

Melanie winced, extending her fingers to full length. Both hands were covered in small scratches and gashes from the flurry of crows and glass.

"I'm okay," she said. "I'm fine. It's nothing to worry about."

She flexed her fingers some more, her eyebrows furrowing from the stinging sensation. Small droplets of blood bubbled up all over her hands and through her fingers.

Standing quickly, small bits of glass fell to the ground from her clothes. She walked hastily out of the room, holding her hands out limply. She ignored Miss Blake calling after her. She could clean it herself which was better than waiting for paramedics to show up. That would be another ten minutes.

Students from other classrooms began to crowd around the doorway. Miss Blake focused her attention on a student who cradled his wounded face. Stiles pulled out his cell phone, watching Lydia pull glass from her hair. She was completely dazed. She stared out the busted window, shaking.

"Dad," Stiles said urgently into his phone. "I don't know how to explain it. You need to come to the school."

Water rushed over Melanie's skin, steaming up into her face, the hot water, making her minor injuries sting only a little. The blood washed away, swirling down the drain, hypnotizing her. A piece of hair slid down in front of her face. Quickly, she tucked it behind her ear then kept rubbing her hands underneath the faucet until her hands throbbed, reddened.

Looking up at her reflection in the mirror, she pulled a small black feather from hair that was interwoven between messy locks. She set it carefully on the edge of the sink, away from a small water puddle that threatened to engulf it. She ran her fingers through her hair gingerly and pulled out two more feathers. A few chips of glass fell to the floor too.

Her face was unscathed, Scott being part of the reason. I'll have to thank him sometime, Melanie thought to herself, brushing her body carefully. A few more bits of glass fell. Her reflection had paled, but that was to be expected after getting attacked by birds. What was this, a Hitchcock movie? If so, it was a terrible remake.

Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed one on her speed dial and huffed angrily at receiving his voicemail.

"Okay douche, I've been here for nearly three weeks maybe four, and I haven't heard a word from you. What the hell is going on that you can't drop a line huh? There is some weird shit going on around here. The wildlife is nuts. You told me this place was safe and my class just got attacked by birds! Birds, Derek!" she screamed into the receiver. "Stiles and Scott creeped on me last night too. I have half a mind to beat them and take my chances on my own. I don't understand how they are supposed to help me. I'm not even sure I can trust them. They sure as hell don't trust me. This place is so NOT normal, and neither are the people. I feel like I'm going insane. Danny is the only one keeping me in my right mind at the moment. Something isn't right and it's not like the usual werewolf problems. And, you're off doing god knows what and not telling me anything just like before. I need answers. There's something you aren't telling me and I don't like being kept in the dark. You better call back."

"I can't hear all of it, but I know that this isn't her fault. She's freaking out," Scott said, standing outside the class, looking at the girl's bathroom.

Stiles's face scrunched, unsure, his eyes narrowing.

"I guess," he said.

"What?" Scott asked.

"Something's still not right. She's strange, secretive and secretive people have things to hide," he said, his speech halting midway at his ridiculous comment. He shook his head. "If she's not a killer or whatever, than there's something else. She's a suspect."

Stiles peered around Scott into the classroom. His Dad was talking to Miss Blake, getting a statement.

"She's a werewolf," Isaac said, coming up alongside the two. He bore a concerned look and glanced around cautiously. He sighed heavily. Scott didn't like it any more than he did. He was hoping she was normal. He wasn't sure how many more supernatural happenings he could take. He would give anything to be that benched kid freshman year. Nobody was dying. Werewolves weren't out for revenge. Kanimas weren't paralyzing and killing people. Hunters didn't have some messed up code that made them psychotic. He wasn't failing classes like he nearly did last year.

He did meet Allison though. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he still cared deeply for her. Seeing Isaac with her hurt like a stab to the back, but she looked happy. That's what counted right? He was also captain of the lacrosse team. He could do thing normal people couldn't do. His reflexes were sharper. His senses were more attuned.

The negatives and positives of those wishes ran in circles, like dogs chasing their tails, in his head. But Melanie, a werewolf? It was possible. Usually the shittiest shockers were the likeliest.

Stiles swung around, his hands flying up, nearly hitting Scott. With wide, excited eyes, he exclaimed,

"I knew it!?"

"You did?" Scott asked flatly.

"I said there was something else," Stiles replied, his head swiveling.

"How do you know?" Scott asked Isaac who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking into the destroyed classroom.

"She has a tattoo behind her ear."

"A tattoo…" Scott stared at both of his friends blankly. "Did either of you think that maybe she's normal? People get tattoos all time."

Scott pointed at his arm where two dark bands circled his bicep. He could still see Stiles fainting from watching. It made him snort.

"It's the same one Derek has," Isaac said.

"See? I told you!" Stiles continued. "It makes perfect sense. She's suspicious. No past and no parents."

"Oh," Scott said, still hung up on the tattoo.

Scott's face lost complete expression, going stale. He looked back at the girl's bathroom. Melanie came out, her hands stuffed in her pockets. He could smell the tangy blood. Those minor cuts would've healed quickly and they weren't.

"She can't be one. She's still bleeding, and she would've healed by now if she was one," he said.

"No parents?" Isaac said confused.

"When she found out we were staking out her place, she came out and chatted with us. Well, that's if you count silent death threats chatting. We found out her parents died. That's how she's emancipated and able to live on her own," Stiles explained. He shrugged with a mixture of nervous emotion. Death wasn't a comfortable subject for any of them though they were surrounded by it.

"Scott, Stiles," both boys turned, facing the sheriff. His lightly tinted gold badge shimmered from the light, catching Scott's eye. "I need to take your statements. Isaac, why don't you head back to class, hm?"

Isaac sighed, his eyebrows rising then lowering exasperated, along with the breath. He shared one last look with Scott before turning and going.

"Okay, be straight," sheriff said. "What happened?"

"The birds attacked." Stiles said flatly.

"The truth," the sheriff said sternly.

"I don't know Dad. They circled around outside then busted through the windows and attacked everyone all crazed."

"I can't put that in the report."

"You asked!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing his arms and head back dramatically. He brought his hands back down and rested them on top of his head then dragged them down his face. His skin morphed and stretched awkwardly from the motion, making his distress obvious.

"So a deer attack and now crows…" the sheriff trailed off.

"Oh, and Prada, Lydia's dog. He bit her," Stiles added. It was like a 100 watt bulb went on in his brain, but it was flickering.

"Dogs do bite people sometimes. Maybe it was because of the name,"

Stiles glared flatly and turned away from him. Scott smirked, thinking back to Melanie's exact same comment. Stiles grumbled unhappily, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I'll see you boys," sheriff Stilinski said.

His deputy met him at the doorway. Scott walked over to Stiles who leaned against the wall with a look of frustration on his face.

"Something's going on. I don't know what it is yet, but I will," Stiles said matter of factly.

"Hey," Isaac greeted.

Melanie jumped and her hands rose into fists ready to swing. Isaac stepped back instantly, his hands raised in surrender. The ferocious look on her face softened, and she lowered her fists. He didn't recognize her. The majority of the gashes that scabbed over split open. The air stung her hands.

"Wow, what happened?"

"Bird attack. I covered my head and my hands got a little roughed up," Melanie said, looking away.

"You going to be okay?"

"I'm fine now. The only time I won't be fine is when I'm dead." The words were blunt. The Melanie in front of him was the defense girl. Just like the first day she came here, her wall was back up all over again.

The words held a foreboding too, making Isaac's stomach churn. He swallowed back what he was going to say next. He wanted to shake her and tell her take those words back. They were crazy. Instead he looked down the hallway. She wasn't even making eye contact.

"Skipping next period?"

"Planned on skipping until lunch. I think my excuse is legit," she chuckled, holding up her hands as proof. Small bits of blood bubbled on her scratches, threatening to drip. She dangled her hands back to her side.

Isaac didn't take his eyes away from her injuries. Like in a trance, he stared and felt nothing but the need for revenge. It was stupid really. Revenge on birds? Revenge for stupid scratch marks that'll heal in a week? And for a girl he barely knew? No, this was stupidity. Just stupidity.

"I'll see you then," Melanie said, not receiving any kind of response from the towering boy.

She brushed past him, her smell wafting up his nostrils. Unwillingly, he took in a deep breath, his chest constricting. It was enough to stop his heart.

"Yeah…later," he murmured.

He watched after her. Werewolf or not, he was sure of one thing. Nobody would lay a finger on her. That was his own personal promise. Who else was going to protect her? Certainly not Scott. He wasn't sure of what to make of her. Danny? He wouldn't last a second against any supernatural creature. She had nobody. That had to be why she was always looking over her shoulder. She only had herself.

Having no parents sucked. Granted, his parents didn't have the best character when they were alive, especially on his dad's part, but it still made him sad to think about never seeing them again. Having no family was lonely.

"Hey, was that Melanie?" Allison said. Isaac looked up, his mouth forming the shape of an 'O', trying to find words to speak.

She held her books out in front of herself with both hands reminding Isaac of a pristine, private schoolgirl. He smirked at the private thought. That would be something to try further into the relationship.

"Yeah, I was just seeing if she was okay. She was in the attack," he replied. Leaning down, he cupped her cheek and kissed her. The remaining thoughts of Melanie were wisped away with the melding of their lips together. The void filled with Allison and though the kiss was satisfying, wiping the concern he had for the mysterious girl behind the glasses from his thoughts, he still wanted more.

Melanie sat outside under a tree just outside of the cafeteria. The sun glimmered down in rays, through the leaves, mixing with the shade. It created golden spots of light around her and on her. She stared at the cluster of feathers that looked like nothing more than black specs that could be misconstrued for bugs. Hearing the lunch bell, she got up, wincing as she leaned on her hands for support.

She walked into the cafeteria and spotted Scott and Stiles instantly. Talk of the crow attack sifted throughout the room. At a quick pace, she walked over to the table, determined. The rant she left on Derek's cell phone was still going in her mind, and the attack today nearly made her forget about the boys having sat outside her house last night.

"Here's how it's going to be if you expect to get to know me, and pay attention, I'm only laying it out for you once," Melanie spat, stopping in front Stiles and of Scott and putting her palms flat on the stained lunch table. "You're intent on invading my life. Fine. Don't come to my house and don't ask dumbass questions and no Stiles, I will not tell you about my parents. Clear?"

She looked between both of them patiently, tucking her bangs behind her ear revealing her deep, dark brown eyes. Receiving only blank stares and the fry between Stiles's fingers nearly falling to his tray, she swiveled her head expectantly.

"Clear," Scott said breathlessly. Stiles nodded silently in agreement, stuffing the greasy food into his mouth. He licked the grease from his lips.

"Good," she said. The tension she had carried with her to the table melted away. Her shoulders loosened up. That was easy. She half expected an argument.

They continued to stare at her; Stiles more intensely than Scott. She just stared back, puzzled. Their faces weren't truly blank, but actually in awe, possibly intrigue. She wasn't sure. It was always difficult to read their faces. They always screwed up with some weird ass expression.

"What?" she asked and ran her fingers through her hair to check for anything that might've been there. She brushed it this morning and had gotten all the feathers. Then she looked down at herself. There wasn't anything on her black v-neck shirt. She made sure to get all of the glass. She stood back up fully and twisted, her long hair falling over her face. Scott leaned over some, trying to get a look at her ears. The hair made it really difficult.

"You just look different. I'm just realizing it," Stiles said, tilting his head, observing the actual girl in front of them. She was actually edgy. It made him think about Erica. He missed her.

With everything going on, she forgot how people were paying attention to her like Isaac. Why would Isaac look so closely anyway? He was so stange sometimes.

"This is how I look…" she said still confused.

"No, you usually hide in a hoodie, your hood up and just like-" Scott said.

"A blob. You're normally a blob," Stiles finished for Scott who stared at him with disbelief, his eyelashes nearly touching his eyebrows his eyes were so wide.

Melanie scowled, her lips pursing together. Stiles cringed underneath the cruel stare Opening her mouth to speak, unsure of what was about to come out in the midst of her annoyance her phone buzzed in her pocket.

"I have to take this," she ground out, pulling her phone out.

"Something tells me I just go really lucky," Stiles whimpered.

"Yeah, I think she was going to tell you what you're normally like," Scott said.

Melanie walked down the hall, looking around. Nobody was around. On the fourth ring she answered the call. At the sound of his voice, her safe haven, she let out a long sigh of relief that had been lodged between her lungs and pharynx for the last two and a half years.