"So, wait. You ran over a dog—"
"It literally just came out of nowhere!" Allison exclaims, her fingertips picking at a piece of french fry while she hovers just a fraction of an inch closer to where Madison sits across from her in the cafeteria, "It was raining, and dark, and—"
"And you took it to the animal clinic, where that guy who gave you a pen first period just so happens to work."
"Scott. Yeah."
"And he gave you his—shirt?"
"It's not what it sounds like, I swear!"
"That's funny, because I kind of think it is exactly what it sounds like," Madison teases, shifting to nudge Allison's shin beneath the table with the toe of her boot, and suppressing an amused snort as the act causes her friend to flush, "How exactly did that part happen, again?"
"It was raining?"
"Convenient."
"Oh right, because I totally planned a torrential downpour," Allison scoffs, the remark tempered by yet another shy smile, while soft laughter shakes her shoulders and her hair falls in a curtain across her face, "I wish I was that good."
"Well it got you a date to Lydia's party."
"It did, didn't it?"
"So now we just need to work on finding someone for you."
"What? No. No," Madison protests, her brow furrowing as soon as she realizes that now it appears to be her turn for flushed cheeks and nervous laughter, "I'm—I'm fine just going on my own."
"Oh come on! I'm sure Lydia can come up with someone from the team!"
"And what if I don't—what if I don't want someone from the team?"
"What about that guy you were talking to the other day?" Allison persists, Madison's answering shock over the inquiry serving as ample proof that she is on the right track, "Oh my God, I knew Lydia was onto something!"
"She definitely wasn't—"
"Oh, no, she was. She definitely was; who was he?!"
Trying and failing to ignore the flush that burns against the skin of her cheeks, Madison averts her eyes to her own lunch in hopes that it will give her a moment or two to gather her nerves. In hopes that she will be able to find some way of shrugging off Allison's curiosity as gently as she can.
In truth, a part of her is oddly amused by the teasing. By the obvious reluctance to back down that is so apparent in her newfound companion's gaze. But even if Madison may be capable of admitting that she almost enjoys the reality now before her—that of having a friend aside from her cousin—it still does not quite give her the courage to simply accept her fate without a fight.
"He was—I mean, I don't think we're really going to have a chance to chat again, Allison—"
"Were you planning on moving out of town again?"
"Well no, but—"
"Then who. Was. He?"
"Matt. He was—he was trying out for the lacrosse team yesterday, too," Madison finally relents, frowning almost as soon as she takes note of Allison's eager smile, "What's that look?"
"Oh nothing. It's just, since he's on the team, he'll probably be at Lydia's party too."
Unable to do anything other than blink as Allison's words sink in, Madison realizes that her friend does actually have a point. That she likely will, in fact, have a chance to run into Matt again if she wants it. Her stomach does a funny little lurch at the prospect, even if she hardly knows the answer to that particular internal question, in and of itself, and she catches herself chewing on the inside of her cheek as she mulls over exactly how she should proceed.
On the one hand, she can do as Allison seems to be suggesting. She can go to this party, and hope that Matt will be there. That they will have a chance to interact, again.
But on the other hand, a part of her cannot help but acknowledge that she would much rather remain home with a very good book.
"Madison?"
"Hmm?"
"Now who has a look?"
"What—what look?"
"That look," Allison clarifies, gesturing at Madison's face, biting down on the inside of her cheek in a clear attempt at hiding her own amusement, even when her friend narrows her eyes at her in response, "You're trying to find an excuse not to go, aren't you?"
"I never said that."
"Yeah, well, you didn't have to. And you—you really don't have to come if you don't want to. Not just for me."
Madison mulls the words over for a moment, honestly surprised at the genuine offer, considering how Allison had practically seemed ready to ignite a mutiny over simply finding her a guy to hang out with at said party mere moments before. In spite of her uncertainty, she honestly tries to force herself to push that feeling to the side.
She can tell that Allison is nervous. That regardless of the fact that she already has her own special someone willing to be with her at the party, she is still every bit as uncertain in this new environment as Madison is, herself.
That simple truth is a large part of what seems to have given them the basis for their tentative companionship. And it is also a major component of the reason behind Madison's ensuing choice.
"I'm going."
"Maddie—"
"No, really. I'm going," Madison repeats, surprised to find a genuine grin pulling at her lips even in the face of her lingering trepidation, "Someone has to make sure you and Scott have a good time."
"And someone needs to make sure you find a way to hook up with Matt."
"Hook—hook up?"
"Well—maybe," Allison jokes, laughing openly in response to Madison's answering flush, and dodging the retaliatory swipe aimed at her arm not long after, "We'll see."
Shaking her head, Maddie tries to pretend she does not share in Allison's amusement. Or rather, she tries and fails, her shoulders shaking with her own laughter as she reaches for the bottle of water resting nearby. It would be a lie for her to pretend she has any sort of a plan to pursue anything with Matt. At least not deliberately, having always been the sort to prefer waiting for the other party to make a move first before trying anything herself. But even with those intentions firmly in place, and without knowing for sure if Sebastian plans to attend the party as well, she is optimistic enough to hope she can still have a decent time.
If nothing else, it might afford her the chance to learn more about her new classmates, and that is something that can only aid her in the long run.
…
The bell above the door lets out a gentle tinkle as Jean Duvall steps inside the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic, cool green eyes automatically seeking the older of the two men inside. Despite the years that have passed since their last encounter, he does not miss the flare of recognition in that man's expression.
Waiting as the man he seeks murmurs something to his younger companion, Jean waits until the boy passes through the double doors leading to an unseen back room before moving any closer, and he is not blind to how the other man's posture seems to tense just a bit as a result.
"Do you know why I am here?"
"I can hazard a guess," Deaton replies, his tone cautiously neutral as he watches the new arrival assessing his surroundings with a critical eye, "And Fiona might have alerted me to your needs before you arrived."
"And you do not approve."
As he anticipated, Deaton purses his lips, clearly spending a moment deliberating over exactly how he should respond. An expression Jean is all too familiar with, given their shared history. This would hardly be the first time the reason why he is here has caused tension between them.
Something Deaton only seems too keen to prove, if his eventual reply as he hands Jean a small glass vial is any sort of indication at all.
"As a child ages, there are always dangers associated with repressing certain memories," He begins, his expression still retaining its practiced neutral cast despite the inherent disapproval behind his tone, "And those are outside of just the implications for any relationships involved in the deceit."
"I believe our relationship is strong enough to pass the test."
"That's one man's belief."
"She is not ready for the truth," Jean insists, pocketing the vial, and casting a glance at the door through which Deaton's younger companion had disappeared to ensure they are still, for all intents and purposes, alone, "I think you might understand the need for protection, in such cases."
"I also understand the need for transparency. It's more important than you might think."
Opting for silence once again, Jean does not even grant Deaton the courtesy of a nod, his eyes narrowing as he continues to watch the veterinarian as though waiting for him to do something more than simply disagree with his methods. Where Fiona had only been too willing to supply his needs prior to the move back to Beacon Hills, the man standing in front of him now seems determined to opt for a more contrarian approach.
It was something he'd always endured in years prior, but now it is something he simply cannot afford.
"If I require assistance in the upbringing of my granddaughter, I will let you know."
"Noted. And what about your grandson?" Deaton presses, the inquiry causing Jean's jaw to tighten, his answer coming through the strain of gritted teeth.
"Sebastian understands the need for secrecy as well."
Deaton's expression says it all, in the wake of the remark, his disapproval clear, even to the unpracticed eye. And although Jean is more than a little tempted to remark on that very fact, he resists, instead choosing departure as a means of terminating the conversation altogether, now that he has what he came for…
Not that the veterinarian is willing to let him go without having the final say.
"I wonder who she will turn to, when the truth inevitably comes out," He states, the words clearly intended as a warning, though for his part, Jean does not seem inclined to acknowledge them at all, the bell over the door giving another small tinkle as he passes through to the parking lot resting just outside.
Even as Scott once again returns to stand beside him, Deaton does not stop watching the other man's retreating form until he disappears from view entirely, and although he suspects his murmured next words will only confuse the boy, that does not stop him from saying them aloud, anyway.
"When she learns what you have been hiding, who will she trust?"
…
"So this old guy comes in—"
"Yes, Stiles."
"And Deaton knew him?"
"Yes," Scott confirms, exasperation coloring his sigh as he leans back against the sofa cushions, and allows his head to thud against the wall resting behind them not long after, "But that doesn't mean I'm any closer to figuring out who he was than the first time you asked."
"Maybe I'm thinking repetition will help you remember," Stiles suggests, his expression hopeful, to say the least, even when he notices Scott rolling his eyes in response, "Isn't it helping at least a little bit?"
"Not really, no."
"Spoilsport. Did you at least ask Deaton anything about this guy?"
"What do you think?" Scott groans, tilting his head to look at Stiles, while light from the television flares across their faces, "He kept me pretty busy after that."
"Did he tape your mouth shut or something?"
"No—"
"Blaring loud music?"
"No!"
"Then what!?" Stiles bursts out, frustration apparent behind the words, even if he knows there hadn't really been anything else for Scott to do other than what he'd done, already, "Sorry. Sorry, I just—"
"You just want to figure out what happened to the other half of the body we found the other night."
"Yes!"
"And you think that just because the old guy was new, he had something to do with it?"
"Well? I mean, it's not like we've had a run on murders year-round. Someone drops dead, someone new comes to town? I'd say that makes it worth looking into!"
"So, by that logic, Allison might be a suspect, too," Scott hedges, his expression doubtful, though his friend, by contrast, is already giving an eager nod. Ever since his return home from work, Stiles had been fixated on every last detail of the interaction Scott had described between his boss and the older man. And by that fact alone, he supposes he shouldn't really be all that surprised when he takes the direction of their conversation surrounding their suspicions just one step further.
"Her, or someone in her family. Think about it. You could be going to Lydia's party on Friday with a murderer."
"Now tell me why you sound so happy about that—"
"I literally had to drag you out into the woods to find the first half, Scott. Tell me why you're surprised that I'm happy."
"Right. Guess I should probably already know."
"Damn straight," Stiles agrees, his fingers drumming anxiously against the fabric of his jeans, "Maybe you should ask her what she knows."
"Right. Because that's a great conversation to have on a first date."
"Hey, at least she could never say you were boring!"
"Honestly? I'm kind of just shooting for surviving the night without making a fool of myself," Scott admits, aware of Stiles's scoff of disapproval, and hurrying to go on before his friend can say anything in response, "Normal isn't always a bad thing, you know."
"It is when you're trying to impress a girl."
"And you're saying this from all of your experience with dating."
"Yeah. Well—well no," Stiles mutters, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, and frowning as soon as he sees the look that Scott is sending his way, "What?"
"It's nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing."
"It's just—I'm not gonna know anyone other than Allison," Scott says, the nerves he has been trying so hard to restrain finally becoming more than he can bear, "And if Jackson decides to be an ass like always—"
"Well, I'd be missing out on an epic night of video games, but I suppose I could come, too."
"Would you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll come," Stiles nods, leveling a look of mock indignation Scott's way, and pointing his finger at his friend not long after, "If I was smart, I'd make you find me a date as payment for my sacrifice."
"Maybe Allison has a twin sister no one knows about."
"Ha. Funny. You're—you're hilarious, Scott, you know that?"
Stiles is already able to predict his friend's answer. In fact, he would've been able to, even without taking note of his unbelievably eager smile. And even though he cannot exactly say how much fun he will have, if Scott is wrapped up in Allison, as he likely will be all night long, he is completely unable to resist his own grin as his friend finally manages a reply.
"I know."
…
The remainder of the week passes with little to no incident, and Madison is surprised to realize that the transition to living in Beacon Hills is far easier than she could have hoped. Of course, she still has not fully abandoned her sense of hesitation. The nerves that plagued her at the start of the week may be diminished, but they are not gone.
She'd spent a significant amount of time after school on finding a suitable outfit to wear to the party. On fixing her hair and makeup, as laughable as all of that now seems. And now, with Bash at her side, she is standing on Lydia Martin's doorstep, early as requested so that they might help set up.
Lydia hadn't technically invited him for the process, having only made specific mention of her desire for assistance to her, and Allison, but once he heard of the opportunity himself, Sebastian was hardly going to just sit out.
She just hopes that his presence is not something that Lydia will mind.
Risking a glance at her cousin, Maddie opens her mouth to say something about that very fact for what has to be the umpteenth time. But before she can, the front door opens, effectively diverting her attention in time to note the appraising look Lydia is sending Bash's way.
"I see you brought a friend."
"Is that—is that okay?" Madison asks, frowning as soon as she realizes how obvious it is that her voice has started to shake, though for Lydia's part, she seems not to notice at all. Instead, her attention is absolutely fixed upon appraising Bash. On looking him up and down with a casual half-smile.
For a moment, Maddie wonders if the redhead will even bother with a reply at all, her eyes still locked on Sebastian as though determined never to look away. But then Lydia is turning back to face her, that appraising look still very much in place as she finally deigns to reply.
"I suppose."
Trying her best not to sag in relief, Madison offers a singular nod to acknowledge the words, instead, her teeth almost automatically digging into her lower lip as she lingers beneath Lydia's discerning gaze. It says quite clearly that she holds the distinct ability to either grant someone her approval or disapproval in little to no time at all. And it is that very fact that renders Madison near to motionless, at least until the redhead offers her the faintest of nods before going on to speak once more.
"Nice dress."
"Oh, um—thanks?"
"You're welcome. Now get in here. Lots to do, little to no time to do it! Chop chop!"
Before Madison can say or do anything to respond, Lydia is turning on a heel and marching back inside, leaving her with little to no choice but to follow along in her wake with Sebastian at her side. As she does so, she is able to notice that the foyer alone is massive. That the rest of the house clearly has to be even grander in scale.
Unable to stop her jaw from dropping just a bit, Madison hardly has time to reconcile herself to the reality surrounding her before she, Lydia and Bash are stepping out through a sliding glass door to land on a spacious patio. A few feet away, there are a few tables set up alongside a pool, the water already reflecting tiny lights hung overhead. And that is where Lydia turns back to her would-be assembly crew, her tone all business as she favors the two of them with a determined smile.
"Okay, so. Sebastian, you can help Jackson with the rest of the lights. And you, Madison, are going to be with me putting out drinks and chips."
"And what if I told you I have a crippling fear of heights, so I'd be better off with you and the chips?" Sebastian inquires, a charming smile firmly in place as an obvious indicator of his attempt to flirt. Only just resisting an eye roll, Madison is honestly surprised to notice Lydia regarding him with an almost contemplative look in response. Almost as though she is considering flirting back.
She doesn't exactly get the chance, though. Not when Jackson is suddenly appearing at her side, and winding an arm around her waist, the look he sends Bash a clear warning to stay away.
"They know they're early, right?"
"Relax, Jackson. They're here to help set up."
"Unless you don't want help with the lights—"
Madison is not blind to the way Jackson's jaw tightens in response to her cousin's quip, though he seems aggravated enough at the prospect of doing anything more with the aforementioned lights to refrain from a comment of his own. Instead, he simply offers a curt nod and turns to storm over towards a few stray boxes balanced on folding chairs near the edge of the pool, a clear indication that if Bash wishes to help, he should follow along.
Sebastian does follow, sending a parting smile Lydia's way, but she does not react, at least not outwardly, clearly sensing the tension between her boyfriend and the taller boy as easily as Madison has, herself. She wants to say something. To reassure her that Bash was only joking, but that is not, strictly speaking, true.
Before the brunette has the chance, though, she catches herself jumping as Lydia seizes her arm and begins towing her back towards the house. One of her eyebrows lifts in open surprise.
Honestly, her enthusiasm is a little daunting. Particularly when contrasted with the way she had seemed bound and determined to appraise her two guests when they had first arrived. Madison still hardly knows her, and unlike with Allison, she is very much unsure of where she stands.
Already, Maddie can tell that Lydia Martin's opinion is one that few choose to question. If anyone does, they are definitely a bolder person than she is, herself.
That opinion seems to be something that can either make or break someone as far as social standing at school is concerned, and as she sets to the task of helping Lydia haul out bags upon bags of chips, Madison thanks her lucky stars that she met Allison before tonight's party.
She certainly cannot tell if her friend would have been influenced against giving her the time of day if she hadn't, and then she would have been back at square one...
A prospect that might just be more daunting than the party that will consume the majority of the evening ahead.
…
