Chapter 1: Seat Swap

Seraphina Sinclair. She couldn't get over the name, her name, written at the top of the paper in front of her. What teacher assigned seats by placing already-labeled papers on the desks? She blew a frustrated breath out from between pursed lips. Sera half-considered asking Mr. Harris what grade he thought they were in, but then immediately thought better of it. She'd heard horror stories of his bitter sarcasm and hatred for his students—there was no reason to put a target on her back before they even took attendance.

Instead, she focused her attention on scanning the tiny classroom.

Students were slowly filing in, mumbling and moaning about how their summer had passed too quickly. Sera honestly couldn't have agreed more. Even though she had spent the majority of her summer holed up in her one room apartment with nothing to keep her company but the hum of the air conditioner, summer vacation had been a safe haven for her. Junior year loomed ahead, as dismal and lonely as last year had been.

Each student rolled their eyes at the sight of the labeled papers, but they said nothing about it as they sank down into their seats and tried not to look thoroughly miserable. Sera ducked her head and hid her face behind dark hair to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

Her rule of thumb: don't draw attention to yourself, and never talk to anyone without them talking to you first. It wasn't like she didn't long for someone who she could trust—it was simply that it was far too dangerous for her to confide in anyone. No one there knew who she really was, and Sera intended to keep it that way. Dangerous things happened when you delved into the past. She couldn't risk getting close to anyone, even though she had been in Beacon Hills for over a year now. She couldn't risk their life, or her own.

Mr. Harris slipped into the room like an after-thought, briskly closing the classroom door before he took his spot at the board. He wrote his name in an illegible scrawl, taking his time to let each letter drag like a nail scraping on the chalkboard's surface. Sera nearly sighed in relief when he finally decided to face the class.

Harris was pale and dark-haired, his thick dark rimmed glasses only adding to his intensity. His mouth had a sour set to it, as though the only smiling he did was when he gave a student detention. "Quiet down," he commanded, his voice dry. The class did as they were told, nearly falling completely silent. "Now," said Harris, carefully striding up and down the aisles. "As you probably have realized, this is Chemistry II, not preschool. I will not tolerate any acting out or back-talk. You will immediately receive detention if either occur."

Sera already hated this class. She hadn't ever been especially good at science anyway, but watching Harris strut around the room like he was an arrogant god among mortals really rubbed her the wrong way. Sera wanted to let a growl escape from behind her gritted teeth, but she clamped her mouth shut and held it in. There was no use in getting angry. After all, Chem II was her first class of the day. Her first day as a junior at Beacon Hills High had been going off without a hitch until this asshole had strode into the room.

Sera slumped down in her seat, pulling A Tale of Two Cities from her messenger bag and cracking it open to work more on her tardy summer reading for English. She attempted to block out Harris' monotone speech and tried her hardest to block out the sight of the bland, colorless room around her. She wanted to sink into her book.

Reading had always been Sera's escape ever since she was a little girl, but in the past few years, it had been essential for her survival. Some days, when the memories flashed vividly in her mind, she picked up a book and read the whole thing in one sitting. Sera enjoyed being someone else. In books, the protagonist almost always escaped their monsters. Sera thought that maybe one day, if she tried hard enough, she would finally be able to escape her own.

Her daydream shattered when Harris slapped a hand down on the desk. Her heart seized in her chest before stuttering along at an alarmed staccato. Harris glared down at Sera with beady eyes, and she let her book fall closed as she swallowed nervously.

"Did you, by chance, hear anything I just said?" Harris asked in a clipped voice.

Sera blinked hard and attempted to slow her heart rate. Anger was already pooling into her veins, but she managed to shake her head to confirm his assumption. "I see," Harris said, leaning over her desk. "Well, Miss…" He glanced at her warm-up sheet. "Sinclair, I believe that if you hadn't been so rudely reading while I was giving directions, you might have caught a bit of what I was saying." His lip curled in distaste. "It was something along the lines of, 'Students will sit in the seat that I assign to them: no exceptions'." Harris' glare confused her.

"But… I am sitting in the right seat," Sera told him, her eyebrows furrowing. "This is where my paper was." She held up her paper to prove her point.

Harris frowned and snatched the paper from her hands. "While that is exceptionally cute, Miss Sinclair, you'll have to excuse me for not finding this funny." She said nothing, because in all honesty, Sera had no idea what the hell Harris was talking about. "I did not put your paper here. In fact, you aren't supposed to be in the front seat at all." Good, is what she wanted to snap. I didn't want to sit in the first seat anyway.

"Actually, you aren't even supposed to be in this row. Miss Sinclair, I realize that you've never had me before as a teacher, but I'd like to inform you that although I am sometimes forgetful, I distinctly remember placing you on the opposite side of the room. And although I am sometimes forgetful, I'm not stupid." Harris' glare became harsher, if possible. "You'll be doing yourself a favor if you learn that now."

Sera's cheeks flushed. No matter what Harris was accusing her of, she hadn't switched seats. He gave her a cold smile and said: "Now if you'll be so kind, I believe Mr. Stilinski would like to sit down sometime today."

Her hands shaking, Sera glanced over at the boy standing behind Mr. Harris. He was tall and lanky, with dark brown hair and wide caramel eyes. His hair, which had probably been stylishly gelled a few minutes before, was sticking up in all directions from where he kept grabbing fistfuls of it while looking at her in distress. He wore a faded red T-shirt, dark-washed jeans, and a new pair of black Converse, but his outfit wasn't what made Sera stare at him.

It was his name. His name, which she had heard murmured frequently over the past year. Sera froze. Dread welled in her chest. She had never seen him up close, but she had watched the year unfold from a distance, and she knew that the boy in front of her was inextricably linked to all of the prior mysterious occurrences in town. Sera knew that Stiles' best friend was the catalyst for all the chaotic things that had happened in Beacon Hills this past year. Stiles Stilinski was dangerous to associate with. And he was staring right at her.

"Sometime today, Miss Sinclair," Harris sneered. She was tempted to flip him the bird, but she quickly stifled the impulse. Gathering all her stuff and shoving it into her bag, Sera brushed by Harris and Stiles without a word. Her cheeks were still red—she could feel them burning as she took her rightful seat in the very back of the room. Several students snickered, but she tried her best to ignore them. She had gone a year without incident, and then something like this happened. Sera glowered at the desk she sat in, hearing every noise, every heartbeat, as she tried to direct her anger elsewhere.

She hadn't tried to switch her seat. Sera wanted to believe Harris was just being a jerk, but something in her gut told her otherwise. She took a deep, cleansing breath and closed her eyes. Emotions crowded around her, hanging on the tip of her tongue. They were bitter, mostly—no one enjoyed Harris' class. But there was one that was lighter, teasingly sweet. Her eyes flew open and she turned in the direction of the emotion, or more accurately, the person who was sitting diagonal to her. He was muscularly built and he had brown eyes that were almost black. Ah. One of the lacrosse boys, Gabe. His smirk was directed right at her. It was a lazy thing, that smile, and it infuriated Sera more than Harris' snide comments ever could.

Gabe turned back to his desk, and a moment later, he flipped a piece of paper over to Sera. She caught it in mid-air. Thought you could use a change of scenery. Sera held her breath and crushed the piece of paper in her hand, dropping it onto the desk like it was bound to combust. She didn't look back at Gabe. Burying her hands under her legs, Sera tried to control herself. Luckily her hands were out of sight, because instead of having her usual ragged fingernails, they were tipped with sharp, lethal claws.

When the bell rang, Sera bolted out of Harris' class as quickly as she could. She kept her head ducked low, hiding yet again behind her hair. She wanted nothing more than to disappear at this point. Sera had wanted that for the past year, ever since she had returned.

She knew it wasn't smart to linger here in a place where anyone could recognize her. But as soon as Sera heard about Laura's death, she didn't really have a choice in the matter. Moving into a small apartment in town had been Sera's best bet for avoiding the woods as she observed the happenings of Beacon Hills. The location was peaceful enough, sometimes so much so that it was hard for her to remember that she was home again.

Sera tried her very best to imagine that she was still living with her adoptive mother Ophelia and Ophelia's two daughters, Viviane and Tabitha, instead of the town that was the source of all of her nightmares.

"Hey!" A voice rose over the din of the hallway. Sera ignored it and continued walking, her dress swishing at her thighs as she picked up the pace. She was only a few feet away from her locker when the voice shouted: "Hey, wait! Wait up!" Sera closed her eyes and stopped, wishing that her life didn't suck so badly. Then she turned on her heel and faced the nervously grinning boy behind her.

Stiles Stilinski's eyes were bright with intrigue, but Sera could do nothing but frown.

"I didn't take your seat," she told him, exasperation leaking into her voice.

"Oh! Oh, no, I know!" he said, easing up beside her as she began to walk again. "Harris is just a dick, that's all." Sera dropped her books on the ground with a smack and began to work her locker combination. Stiles stood behind her, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I didn't come to accuse you or anything, um, I—actually, you left your cardigan in my seat? I mean, in the seat you were sitting at. That was actually my seat."

Grabbing her AP English textbook, Sera closed her locker and turned just in time to see Stiles halt his babbling to wince.

He held out her cardigan tentatively, almost like he was offering food to a wild animal. Sera nearly snorted at the thought. If only he knew. "Oh, uh—thanks."

Stiles' grin was a million watts. "No problem! Thought you might want it back, in case, you know, you got cold or something…"

Sera gave the Stilinski boy a polite, uncomfortable smile, her eyes wandering down the hall. "So you don't think I moved desks, huh?"

"Nah. Besides, who the hell wants to sit in the front of the class? It's not my first pick, but Harris hates me, so there you go." He leaned up against the lockers and gave her a long look. "I'm Stiles, by the way." Sera figured it would be creepy to tell him she already knew who he was, so she just nodded. When she didn't offer her name, he raised his eyebrows and bit his lip. "And you are…?" he prompted.

"About to be late," Sera replied, stepping around him.

He gave her that goofy grin of his and scoffed: "If you're going to Ms. Anders room, she doesn't take attendance until halfway through class. You've got some time."

His eyes were still shining, almost pleading, so she said grudgingly: "My name is Seraphina Sinclair." Her adoptive mother's last name didn't feel right on her lips, but Sera couldn't murmur her real surname. Especially not to this boy, who already knew secrets that endangered his life daily.

For someone who knew so much, Stiles seemed curiously lighthearted. Sera brushed that thought away when he replied: "That's a cool name. It's probably derived from seraphim, you know." His face turned pink as Sera stared at him. "Like, uh, it's a type of…? Ah, never mind."

She shook her head and pushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Listen, this has been nice and all, but I really have to get to class. Thanks for bringing me my cardigan."

Stiles stepped in front of Sera, blocking her path. "Hold on a sec—are you…are you new here?"

"No," she replied bluntly, tired of this charade. Stiles had given Sera back her cardigan. Their seats had been switched, nothing more. She didn't understand why he was so interested in continuing this exchange. It wasn't like they were friends or anything.

Sera felt a pang in her chest as she imagined what it would be like to have this smiling, goofy boy as a friend. As quickly as the thought appeared, she dismissed it. Having close friends wasn't possible for her while she remained in Beacon Hills. She wouldn't risk the lives of innocent people just to quell her loneliness.

Stiles was tempting, though—he already knew things about her world. But, Sera reminded herself fiercely, he was connected to the one person who could reveal her true identity. And Sera couldn't have that.

"You're not new? I've never seen you before."

"I tend to keep to myself. I moved here last year."

Stiles gave Sera a stilted, unconvinced nod. "Huh. Well, uh—cool! And y'know, sorry that jerk Gabe was bothering you in class. That seat swap was probably meant more for me." Stiles' nose wrinkled. "We had an argument the other day on the field. But he knows that if he messes with any of his lacrosse teammates right now, Coach Finstock will have his ass riding the bench."

"I guess I was just the next best option?"

Stiles cringed. "Unfortunately. But if you're ever interested—you're welcome to sit with me and my friends at lunch to avoid assholes like that. If you ever need a place to eat, I mean! We… mostly keep to ourselves, too."

Sera nearly burst into laughter when he said that. She couldn't imagine Stiles or any of his friends keeping to themselves, especially now that they were associated with werewolves.

It had taken Sera forever to say that word again. Sometimes it slipped into her thoughts when she least expected it. After successfully masking her scent from all the others, she didn't want one stupid word to ruin the mental defense Ophelia had worked so hard to help her create.

Stiles must have sensed the sudden tension, because he back-pedaled quickly. "I'm not saying you have to or anything. I was just offering because I didn't know if you sat by yourself or…" He trailed off, grimacing. "Not that I think that you're alone all the time or something! I just meant—"

"Thanks for the offer," Sera said, cutting off Stiles' rambling. "I'll keep it in mind." And without a second glance, she walked to Ms. Anders classroom and left Stiles standing alone in the hallway as the tardy bell trilled. Sera felt the sharp taste of his disappointment on her tongue as she sat down.

It killed her to be so harsh to him when he was being nothing but nice, but it was for the best. Scott McCall's pack was already in enough danger as it was, if the rumors she'd been hearing were true. An alpha pack was lurking in the shadows, waiting for a perfect moment to strike. And Sera knew that if she was pulled into that mess, they wouldn't just use her against Scott—they would use her against her brother.

Sera flipped open her AP textbook as Ms. Anders had instructed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a vaguely familiar face. Sera's eyes locked on the girl immediately, and her pulse thrummed a warning. Like Stiles, Sera had only seen the girl from a distance, but she knew almost every contour of her face—the strong jaw, the pale skin, the thin lips and dainty nose. It was strikingly similar to another face, a face that Sera saw almost every day in her nightmares. It felt like she was staring at a ghost. Sera squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look at Allison Argent a second longer than she had to.

Shivers ran up Sera's spine as screams from the past echoed through her head. The niece of her family's murderer was sitting right beside her.

XXX

When I first wrote this story, chapter 2 onward included song lyrics from songs that fit the theme of the chapters. I wanted to keep that aspect, so I created playlists for both Ignite and Extinguish (2013) and (2023), which you can listen to on Spotify under my username, kaljara.

Chapter 1 song for 2013: N/A

Chapter 1 song for 2023: Salt by Bad Suns

Thanks for reading!