"Lydia, please put down the bestiary and get dressed."

A hand appeared from behind her laptop, holding up one finger as a plea for my silence.

"Lyd," I sighed, "it's the championship game. We have to go. Can't you print it and translate in the car?"

"Do you know how hard it is to decipher an illuminated manuscript, let alone translate it? I'm not doing this by the light of passing streetlamps. You had months and months to do all the research you wanted. I've spent months and months being possessed by a werewolf. Sue me if I'd rather stay here in my pajamas catching up than spend two hours in the freezing cold watching your boyfriend sit on the bench."

"Are you seriously not coming?"

"Of course I'm coming," she snapped, finally emerging from behind her screen, "but I'm also trying to prepare for whatever's coming next. I just want to finish this page. Anyway, I can drive myself. Stiles isn't gonna care if I'm a few minutes late."

I had to fight a smile as Lydia disappeared into the manuscript once more. It had been a quiet week since I'd told her about werewolves. She'd spent most of it reading, popping into my bedroom for follow up questions. It was still surreal, hearing her musings on the different colors of werewolves' eyes, the gender norms of a pack, the other creatures she'd found in the bestiary. I was relieved that the lies were over, at least between the two of us. I didn't like not being able to talk to my mother, but with Lydia on my side I started to feel a little less hopeless. I couldn't see how any of us would make it out of this semester alive, between Gerard and Jackson and Peter, but maybe we could manage it one last time.

"Fine," I scoffed with mock anger, "but if we win, you have to hug Stiles. End of discussion."

"Gross. Only if you take Prada out before you leave."

"Deal."

"Thank you. Please leave."

I shook my head, but closed the door at her request. I walked down to my mom's room next, knocking briefly before letting myself into the room. Once more, I let out an exasperated sigh at the sight.

"Mom, it's a lacrosse game. Why are you curling your hair?"

Mom looked up at me in the mirror, every inch of her hair pulled up into electric rollers she had pinned to her scalp. She was wearing a nice blouse, bright lipstick, and was halfway through applying her mascara.

"What? Because it's a sporting event I can't look nice?"

"We're gonna be outside, and it's going to be windy and cold and miserable. You don't have to look nice."

"Well, I want to look nice. So shoot me."

"Don't—you know I hate it when you say that."

"Alright, I'm sorry. I want to look nice. I don't get out of the house much. Just give me this one."

I shook my head at her and invited myself to flop back onto her bed.

"Have you talked to Stiles?" she asked as she switched to the other eye.

"Um…sort of. He won't answer any of my calls, and I'm still waiting on a text back, but yesterday he said his dad would meet us at the game."

"You think he's alright?"

I briefly thought about all the threats running around our tiny town. Any one of them could strike at a moment's notice and the rest of us would never know.

"I think he's just nervous," I answered, which wasn't necessarily a lie. "I know he usually doesn't get to play, but it's still his team's championship game. There's a lot riding on it."

"Of course he's still allowed to be nervous if he's not playing. Hell, I get nervous before I watch a new episode of Parenthood."

"I'll be sure to pass on your reassurance."

She stuck her tongue out at me and began unpinning the rollers from her hair. "Okay, smartass, are you ready to go?"

"Almost. Lydia's in the middle of a book, so she's gonna meet us at the school. I just have to let Prada out and then we can go."

"Alrighty then. You take care of the dog, I will start the car, and I will meet you out front."

I heaved myself off the bed and kissed her on the cheek. I only narrowly avoided getting elbowed in the face as she fought with one of her curls, and took that as my cue to leave.

All it took was one sharp whistle for Prada to come skittering around the corner and down the hall. He collided with my ankles and wiped out, but scrambled back onto his feet in an instant. Then he sat back and stared up at me, barking happily.

It was good to see Prada back to his old self. Obviously, his trip to the vet hadn't solved much, since the aggression he'd had was a reaction to Lydia. Ever since our birthday disaster, Lydia had slowly been earning her dog's trust back. Now Prada was pretty much as yappy and annoying as he'd been the day I first arrived in Beacon Hills.

"Alright, alright! Stop yelling at me! Come on, I'll let you out."

Prada trotted at my heels until we got to the back porch, where he took off like a rocket. I grinned, leaning back against the door frame and pulling out my phone. My smile faded; no text from Stiles.

I hadn't been lying. I was pretty sure that nerves were the reason that Stiles wasn't texting me. Still, that didn't make me feel much better. Radio silence never seemed to indicate anything good or harmless in Beacon Hills. Stiles's own words resurfaced in my memory.

"No news is good news, right? Or it means everything is awful and something is devastatingly wrong. Which is more likely."

I did my best to shut down the anxious thought. It had been a good two weeks. A really good two weeks, considering. I didn't want to ruin a good thing by assuming the worst, even if the worst was probably true. Instead, I opened up a new text to Stiles.

"Hey! Mom and I are leaving soon, so we'll see you at the game. I know it sounds kind of stupid, but try not to worry. You guys played a great season. I'm sure the game will be okay."

It was a shitty excuse for reassurance, but until he told me what exactly was bothering him, it was the best I could do.

I tucked my phone away, looking back out onto the dark backyard. "Prada, come on! Let's go, puppy!"

I could hear his collar jingling somewhere nearby, but couldn't see his fluffy ears around. Honestly, I didn't care whether he was done or not. Lydia could let him out again if she had to. It was the championship game for the Cyclones, and I did not intend on being late.

There was a low growl, and then the barking started—earsplitting, nonstop barking that blocked out almost every other sound. I ran around the shed and dove straight through the bushes to the path behind the house. It didn't take long to find Prada, or the figure crouching in the bushes that he was barking at.

I was on the offense before I processed anything else. In a stunningly stupid move, I jumped directly over the dog and tackled the intruder. There was a squawk of surprise, and both of us went tumbling to the ground, catching branches and twigs the whole way down. I thrashed as the person grabbed my wrists, and on instinct, slammed my pelvis down on the body beneath me. There was a howl of pain and I struggled to my feet, ready to stomp on the stomach next, then kick the nose if my hands still weren't free, but the person had started yelling.

"Sadie, stop! Sadie, it's just me! Please stop!"

I blew my hair out of my face, trying to get a good look at them in the dark. After a few seconds, I was able to recognize the short, blond curls.

"What the fuck, Isaac?"

"What the—you're the one who attacked me!"

"Because you're hiding in the bushes! What do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I was trying to say goodbye before you decided to take me out."

"W—goodbye? Oh, Prada, shut up."

I helped Isaac up to his feet and scooped the dog up into my arms. He was still growling slightly, but the fact that I wasn't currently dead seemed to have reassured him. Clearly, Isaac wasn't as much of a threat as he'd thought.

I watched as Isaac brushed himself off, gingerly trying to adjust his pants with a grimace. "Jesus, you really went for it, didn't you?"

"Sorry. I didn't realize it was you."

"Well, I pity Jackson when you get your hands on him. Are you also planning to kick him in the balls?"

"I didn't kick you. Besides, you're a werewolf. Shouldn't your reflexes be good enough to fight off an unarmed teenage girl?"

"Ha. Now you sound like Derek."

I smiled, but it was a small one. Suddenly, it felt a lot colder.

"So that's it? You're going with Boyd and Erica?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Isaac sighed, looking up at me hesitantly. "I just think…well, I'm pretty sure anywhere is safer than here right now."

"No, yeah. You're right. You're…good luck…"

We stood in awkward silence for a moment, Isaac inspecting the bush he had been hiding in while I concentrated on petting Prada's fur. I wasn't sure why this was so difficult. I couldn't think of anything else I needed to say, but at the same time, I didn't feel satisfied with what I'd already said. It didn't feel like enough to cover what we'd been through.

"I spoke to Scott earlier," Isaac offered offhandedly. "He said he was going to stay, figure something out…I don't suppose you guys have figured something out?"

I shook my head, and Isaac nodded. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Do you know where you're going?" I asked.

"Nah, but…Erica and Boyd think they might have found another Alpha. They heard some howling in the woods, so…we'll probably check that out."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Look for an apartment on Craigslist?"

I snorted in spite of myself. "God, you're an idiot."

"Yeah, I know," Isaac said with a wide smile. "Look, I—I really just came by because I wanted to say thank you."

"You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do."

His tone made me look up in surprise. He was serious now. No goofy smile, no sweet stuttering. He took a few steps toward me, his eyes fixed on his hands.

"Sadie, you've been…great. Through all this. Making sure we were okay, bringing us food, telling Derek to lay off when he was being an asshole. I know I've been kind of shitty about it, but I know you've always cared. Even before the bite, back when I was just a loser with a broken bike and uh…an abusive dad. You always took the time to say hi, check in with me. And that kind of kept me going, you know? It made me…I don't know. I guess it made me feel important. And happy. So, thanks for always looking out for me."

"Well…it's been my pleasure."

I said it softly, still a bit bewildered. I'd spent a lot of time this year wishing that I could do more for Isaac, really be there for him the way he deserved. It was nice to know that he'd appreciated the little I'd managed to do, but I wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

Isaac grinned again, finally looking up at me. "You're really great, Sadie. And incredibly sweet. And you also just attacked me, which I still think is pretty awesome."

"Isaac, you don't have to—"

"No, I want to say this. I know it's stupid, and I know you probably already know, but I want to say it before I leave. So please just stand there, and…let me do that. Please."

I pursed my lips, hugging Prada closer and doing my best to hide an awkward smile. Isaac was grinning too. He wiped his trembling hands down his face, strung out on nerves.

"I've always sort of liked you. Probably because you're one of the only girls who's ever talked to me, but—ha, that's a completely different conversation. And I'm not saying this because I want you to say anything, because I know you're with Stiles, and that's fine. You guys are…really good together. I just…right now it sort of feels like I got shafted by this whole werewolf thing. Honestly, I don't feel like I'm any better off than I would have been if Derek had left me in the open grave he found me in. I asked for the bite because I wanted to be able to stand up to my dad, be good at lacrosse, be popular. And seeing as none of that is ever gonna happen, I at least want to be able to say that I was confident enough to tell you how I felt. So…now I have."

The two of us looked at each other for a few seconds, both wearing similarly awkward expressions and trying not to move too much. Eventually, I had to hoist Prada higher in my arms. It felt weird to continue being silent after that.

"Do…do you feel better?" I instantly shut my mouth, shaking my head violently. "Oh my God, that sounded so bitchy. I'm so sorry. I did not mean to sound like that."

To my relief, Isaac burst out laughing. "No, it's fine. And yeah, I do."

"Well, uh…good. And thank you. I really appreciate it, but…you didn't need to get the bite to talk to me. I already thought you were pretty incredible."

"Yeah, well, I guess I figured that out a little late, huh?" Isaac chuckled, his hands back in his pockets as he shook his head. "I nearly shit myself that day you asked me about formal, though. I mean, Sadie Bennet? Sitting next to me in class? Asking me out in the middle of chemistry? That was…probably one of the coolest things that happened to me all year. Not to stroke your ego or anything."

I rolled my eyes, grinning until another thought occurred to me. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What did you say to Stiles? That day you went after Lydia in chemistry?"

To my surprise, Isaac's face went white.

"Oh, uh…I probably…you really weren't…how do you know about that?"

"I was sitting with Scott during that round. I saw you guys talking, and Stiles tensed up, so I asked Scott to listen in, only he wouldn't tell me what was going on. Stiles never said anything about it either."

"He didn't?"

He seemed so genuinely surprised by this that I narrowed my eyes. "Isaac…what did you say to him?"

"I really don't think that's—"

"Isaac."

He winced, raising one hand to hold me off and the other to rub the back of his neck.

"Okay, just…remember that the whole point was just to bother him, not because I was actually being serious. I…may or may not have insinuated that you would prefer dating a werewolf instead of human, and that many of those benefits…may be…sexual…"

I cocked an eyebrow, and Isaac withered.

"And I also may have insinuated that I would be willing to demonstrate those benefits to you."

My gasp was quickly swept under a violent cough, and I only barely stopped myself from straight up dropping Prada. "Oh my God, Isaac!"

"I know. It was—it was pretty bad. In my defense, it was just to psych him out, and I was still being really stupid about the werewolf stuff and…helping Derek and all that, so…"

Prada wiggled in my arms, obviously not feeling as secure as he had a few minutes ago. I set him down on the ground, still trying to process everything, and fighting the completely inappropriate impulse to laugh. It was awful. Stiles had been really upset that day. Hell, he'd cracked a baseball bat over Isaac's head a few hours later. But somehow, now that Isaac was here as my friend, I had a hard time seeing the situation as anything but absurdly funny. Maybe it was because so much had happened since then. When did we have time to worry about crushes and sex?

"I'm really sorry," Isaac said, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "And tell Stiles that too. It was dumb."

"Tell him yourself."

He gave me a pointed, incredulous look. "Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna swing by his house on my way out of town just to say 'hey, sorry I said I wanted to have sex with your girlfriend.'"

"Then don't." I bit my lip, taking a few steps closer to him. "Isaac…don't go."

Hesitantly, I rested a hand on his arm. He looked down at it, not surprised, but thoughtful. Then lifted his head with a bleak smile.

"Why? So I can see how long it takes for the Argents to find me? Guess whether they want to cut me in half or feed me to the kanima?"

"We'll figure something out. We have to. We always do."

"And what then? Go back to sleeping in a railcar? Try to come back to school even though everyone knows my dad was an abusive shit and I've got no parents?"

"You did it once."

"Come on, Sadie. We both know there's nothing here for me. Not anymore."

Isaac shook his head, taking my hand off his arm. He faltered, then slipped his hand into my grip, just like he had outside the rave.

"Erica and Boyd are already waiting for me. We're gonna head south for a bit, try to get away while everyone's at the game."

"Okay. If you guys need anything—"

"Yeah, we'll call you. Promise."

Isaac looked down at me, his gaze as steady as it had been the day he surprised me at my locker. That had been after he got the bite, when he was still enjoying the thrill of his new powers. Maybe being a werewolf hadn't fixed everything he wanted it to, but I still thought it had helped him. He'd made friends, felt powerful, then learned not to abuse that power. The bite had brought a lot of bad, but he wasn't the Isaac who used to shuffle along the side of the road with his broken bike. Now, at least, he could stand tall.

He squeezed my hand, then hesitantly leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. He pulled back right away, already backing up several paces.

"Don't tell Stiles I did that. I don't need another person trying to hunt me down and kill me."

"Don't talk like that."

Isaac held up his hands, but shot me a cheeky grin. "Bye, Sadie. Thanks again."

He dropped his hands and turned around, ducking through a hole in the bushes and disappearing into the dusk.

I felt paralyzed. I stared at the spot where he'd vanished while Prada nudged at my ankles. My chest felt small somehow, or my lungs too big. I bit the inside of my cheek and sighed. It helped ease the tension, but not enough. It was like there was too much inside me to fit properly.

"Bye, Isaac."

I scooped Prada up into my arms and started back to the house, but halfway across the yard, I stopped again. I stared down at the pool water, praying he was still in earshot.

"You still have a pack, you know. If you wanted to stay. There's Derek, Scott and Stiles, me and Lydia. Maybe Allison if she ever comes back to her senses. I know that Erica and Boyd are important to you, but I don't want you to think there's nothing here for you. You've got all of us."

I wasn't sure what good the words would do, or if he'd even heard them, but I'd gotten them out of my chest. Feeling a little lighter, I walked back to the house. I dropped Prada on the floor, where he immediately darted away from me. He'd probably had enough of my weirdness for one day.

"There you are!" Mom appeared from the front hall, carefully wrapping a scarf around her neck so she didn't mess up any of her curls. "I was starting to get worried. Everything okay? I heard the dog barking like crazy."

"Yeah, Prada just saw a stray. Had to make sure he didn't make a run for it."

"Okay, well now we need to make a run for it, because if we weren't running late before, we're definitely running late now. Get your butt in the car."

It only took me a few minutes to collect my things and then we were on the road. I stared down at my phone, anxiously opening and closing my messages. I opened Facebook, then closed it without looking at anything. I opened Instagram, then closed it without looking at anything. I pulled up the rest of my apps, closing out anything I didn't need, and then opened my messages again. None of the fiddling summoned a message from Stiles.

"You okay, sweetie? You seem a little quiet."

Quickly, I shoved the phone in my pocket and put on a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just nervous for the game."

"Okay. Are you sure Lydia's feeling alright? I haven't seen her out of her room much lately."

"Oh, yeah, she's fine. I think she's actually feeling a lot better lately. As far as I know, she's just been catching up on sleep and schoolwork and stuff."

"Well, that's good to hear. I'm glad. And what about Allison? Were you able to get ahold of her?"

"Um…no. I mean, I told her I was here if she wanted to talk, but…I think she just wants to be with her family right now."

I avoided her eyes and turned to look out the window. A day or two after Lydia's birthday, the local paper had reported the death of Victoria Argent. Usually, a "normal" death probably wouldn't have caused much of a stir, but Kate's death had been so well publicized that the suicide of her sister-in-law was drawing a lot of attention. It wasn't long until everyone in Beacon Hills knew how she'd died—a knife to the stomach, sitting in Allison's room.

It hadn't been hard to seem surprised and horrified when Mom told me. What had been difficult was hiding my hesitance to call her, or explain why I didn't want to stop by the house. Why wasn't I going to Victoria's funeral the way I had with Kate? Didn't I want to support Allison when she needed a friend? Someone else who knew what she was going through?

Funny enough, I was having a hard time explaining that I couldn't comfort Allison without getting an arrow to the throat.

"God, I can't even imagine what she must be going through," Mom sighed, shaking her head. "You know, just make sure you tell her that we're both here for whatever she and her father need. If they need to talk, or if they want some help packing up their things—"

"Packing?" I whipped around to look at her. "Why would they be packing?"

"Well…a lot's happened to them, sweetie."

"Yeah, but they just got here a few months ago."

"And between her mother and her aunt, Allison's been through a lot in those few months. And that's on top of all the other terrible things going on. I mean, you've been at about three different crime scenes, you've been attacked and locked in the school overnight. You've had more than one friend held hostage by a classmate, it's—you've all been through so much. Sometimes even I wonder if…"

Her fingers drummed anxiously on the steering wheel, but she didn't finish the sentence.

"You wonder if what?" I prompted.

I knew I wasn't going to like the answer, but I still felt a bolt of panic when Mom sighed.

"Okay, I—I didn't really want to have this conversation right now, but…lately I've been wondering if we made the right choice moving to Beacon Hills. I know we wanted to get away from home, make some new memories in a place that didn't remind us of your dad, but if all those memories are going to be about crime scenes and murders and—and almost losing you, then maybe—maybe this isn't the place we should be trying to start over. I don't want all your memories to be bad ones."

"Mom! I don't—"

"I know, I'm sorry. Let's not talk about this right now. Let's just focus on the good things. Let's think about the game, and—"

But I wasn't listening to her anymore.

"I thought we moved here so you could help Natalie," I demanded. "I thought we were all supposed to help each other."

"Sadie, we have been helping each other, but moving in with Nat and Lydia was never supposed to be a permanent solution. We were only ever going to stay for a few months. I can't believe we've already been here for almost a year. I don't know what I've been think—"

"That they need us! We can't just leave!"

Mom looked over and gave me another heart-wrenching, pitying look. "I'm sorry, Sadie. I know you don't want to leave all your friends, or Stiles, or Lydia."

"No, Mom, this—this isn't about my friends! I—I mean, it is, but it's about more than that. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I don't want to leave. It's crazy here and the last few months have been…really, really awful…but I feel like that's the point, you know? I'm dealing with it. We're dealing with it."

I took a shaky breath, trying to stop my entire body from shaking the way it was. I needed her to understand that I wasn't just scared or upset. I was being serious.

"We left home because we didn't want to deal with Dad being gone, and now we're here and we're dealing with so much worse. And I've made friends, and I love them, and…I feel like they've helped me understand that everything could always be so much worse. Beacon Hills is the place I realized that. It's the place where—where I realized that I could keep going and keep living and keep dealing with shit and living my life. And I don't want to leave that. I don't want to move."

I looked over at Mom again, surprised to find that she was almost smiling.

"You don't want to leave the place where one of your classmates turned out to be a serial killer?" she asked, and I groaned.

"Okay, I know that sounds really stupid, but—"

"No, it's not that. Actually, when you put it like that, it—it sounds really good. That was very good, Sadie."

"Oh…" I fidgeted in my seat, not sure what to do with that reaction. "Well…thanks."

"I just worry about you, you know?"

"I know that, Mom."

"And…you're sure about this?" she asked dubiously. "This isn't some…crazed psychotic break that you don't actually mean, and I'm gonna ask you tomorrow and you'll say, 'What do you mean, Mom? Get me outta here!'"

"Trust me," I said, almost laughing. "I'm really not gonna change my mind."

"Okay."

She nodded, staring ahead at the road. She was drumming her hands on the steering wheel again, more thoughtful than anxious now. My eyebrows inched up hopefully.

"Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated, nodding more forcefully. "I mean, not okay okay, but okay for now. I'll think about it. And we should probably talk about this at some point when we've got more time. Not three minutes before the championship lacrosse game and introducing me to your boyfriend's dad."

"Ugh, Mom. You know—"

"I know I know the sheriff, but since you've become such a delinquent these days, I feel like I've never gotten the chance to talk to him on the right side of the crime scene tape. I'm excited!"

I groaned as we pulled into the parking lot, grinning, but honestly mortified. I hadn't even stopped to think about how this was my mom's first lacrosse game. Now I was going to have to sit between her and Sheriff Stilinski for over an hour, during which they would probably be grilling me for information about my relationship with Stiles, or completely ignoring me and talking over my head. Suddenly, my mom's insistence on curling her hair made a lot more sense.

It was going to be a really long game.

The school was already packed by the time we arrived. We actually had to park on the street and walk the last block to the field. We bypassed the concession stand and the student council's back sale, diving straight into the crowd and trying to find the sheriff. It was a good thing he was more punctual than we were, otherwise we probably would have had to stand for the entire game.

"Hey, Sheriff Stilinski," I greeted, hopping up the steps to where he'd been sitting.

"Oh, good, you guys made it!" He stood up, hugging me briefly before moving onto my mother. "Claire, good to see you again."

"Sheriff, always nice to see you not in a professional capacity."

"If it's not professional, then Noah's just fine."

He chuckled as I rolled my eyes, stepping back so we could take our seats. He sat down on my left, sandwiching me between them. I returned to obsessively refreshing the messages on my phone, letting the parents converse freely over my head.

"You girls are just in time," Sheriff Stilinski informed her. "Team should be heading out to the field any minute now."

"Good!" Mom rubbed her hands together in excitement. "How's Stiles feeling? Alright?"

"He's good, yeah. At least, I think he is. He was a little quiet today, but sometimes he gets like that before a game."

"Completely understandable. I'm just glad to hear he's been doing alright. I felt so bad when I heard about what happened at the station. I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine…"

"I've had worse," the sheriff assured her, "but it was a tough night, yeah. Stiles seems to be handling it okay. He went to see the counselor a few times, just to be safe but…he says he's good. He handled himself really well that night, so…I'm real proud of him."

"It sounds like you've got every reason to be. You boys managed to clear everything up and save the town. Congratulations on your reinstatement, by the way! I know Natalie and I already feel much safer with you back on the job."

"Well, I appreciate it. Really, thank you, but we definitely got lucky. We had a few close calls, but everything turned out fine. I was really worried about Scott for a while."

"What happened?"

"Well, at first we were pretty sure he'd been shot."

"Oh—oh my God! And he—he was? He wasn't?"

"Well, we knew Matt had a gun, and I'd heard him fire a round while I was in lockup. Then Scott came in, bleeding through his shirt. Come to find out later that Matt wasn't using real rounds. He must have been shooting rubber, something like that."

"Rubber?" Mom repeated, still horrified. "Geez, how did a teenager get his hands on something like that? Let alone a gun?"

"Probably the Argents," I provided helpfully. I'd been waiting for the correct time to enter the conversation with the excuse. "Stiles told me about all the stuff they found on Matt's laptop. If he broke into Argents' house for Allison's pictures, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd lifted some stuff from their garage."

"That's what we're thinking," Sheriff Stilinski agreed, patting me on the back. "That's gonna be a whole other investigation, though. Will probably take some time. The most important thing is that Scott pulled through with a flesh wound and some bad bruising. With everything going on, I doubt he even realized that he hadn't really been shot until the paramedics pulled his shirt up."

"Still, after something like that," Mom said, shaking her head. "Should he even be playing?"

"Eh, I don't know. I'm not a doctor. I would think not, but I guess it's ultimately up to him and his mother. Melissa's a nurse, so if she cleared him, I'd imagine he's doing just fine."

"I suppose, but…I mean, I remember once when Robbie was shot on the job, and—"

"Can we change the subject?" I asked desperately, partially to avoid the subject of Dad, partially so my mom would stop prying.

"You're right. I'm sorry, sweetie," she said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. She hugged me to her side, then beamed over my head. "Really, we've got much more important things to be talking about. Like our two wonderful children and how they're dating!"

I groaned, falling forward and pressing my face into my knees. Me and my stupid mouth.

Sheriff Stilinski patted me on the back again, laughing at my misery. "Hey, I'm grateful that Stiles found a girl like Sadie. She's been a real good influence on him."

"My daughter? A good influence? Now, there's where you're probably confused."

They both laughed that very parental laugh that made me want to burrow into the soft ground beneath us.

"No, really. Stiles is a smart kid, but hell if I can get him to prove it to anyone. But lately he's been keeping his grades up, he's been doing most of his work—and he certainly wasn't doing it before. So I'm pretty sure I have Sadie to thank for that."

"Well, Stiles is a very sweet boy. I've done my part to gently terrorize him, but he's got a good heart. You've raised a good kid. He's always very polite."

"Polite?"

"Yes! I promise. He's always been very polite to me."

"Well, that—that would also be new."

"Well, he's certainly not getting it from Sadie."

"Hey! I'm polite!"

"Look, all that aside," Sheriff Stilinski said with a grin, "Sadie is a really great girl. And I know that Stiles is crazy about her. So I'm grateful to the both of you."

"And I know how much Sadie cares about Stiles," Mom agreed. "So I think we both deserve a 'job well done.'"

"Yes, congratulations to both of you. Can we change the subject again?"

Mom pointedly ignored me. "Now we just need to figure out which one of them is going to keep the other out of trouble."

Their laughter was quickly swept under cheers as the lacrosse team came running out onto the field. I could have sobbed with relief, jumping to my feet and clapping along with the rest of the crowd. I scanned the jersey numbers as they ran by, finally spotting an eleven and twenty-four heading for the bench.

"Well, this has been great, guys. I'm gonna go say hi to Scott and Stiles. Bye!"

I was out of my seat before either of them could stop me, running down the steps and making a beeline for the sideline. I leaned my elbows on the back of the bench, my head sagging forward between Scott and Stiles. Both of them jumped in alarm at my sudden appearance.

"Our parents are doing that whole 'our kids are dating' thing and I want to die. Please kill me."

"Careful what you wish for," Stiles said tersely. He tugged harshly at the strings on his lacrosse stick, making me frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Jackson," Scott answered.

I followed his gaze to the field, where a few of the players from both teams were already beginning to do warm ups. Danny and Dylan Peters were taking shots at each other, each of them twirling their sticks. A few other guys were doing drills, stretching out their legs and chatting over the noise. And standing in the middle of it all was Jackson, a white thirty-seven stretched across his chest, his face emotionless as he stared around the crowd.

My mouth went dry.

"What the hell does he think he's doing?"

"I don't think he's thinking anything," Scott said solemnly. "If he's here, it's because Gerard wants him to be."

"We're doing this now?"

"Not like we have a choice," said Stiles, shaking his head.

"Is this why you haven't been answering my texts?" I demanded. "This is what you were worried about?"

Stiles nodded shortly, but kept his gaze out on the field. Somehow, that made me even more livid.

"Are you kidding me?! You just decided it would be better to not tell me? So that I didn't have to worry about it? So I could walk into this situation completely unaware and totally unarmed?"

"Look, I only found out an hour or two ago," he snapped back. "Scott didn't know either. What were you gonna do, Sadie? Huh? Bring a loaded gun into the middle of a crowded lacrosse game while you're sitting next to my dad? Shoot Jackson down at halftime? Hold the principal hostage?"

"Well, for one thing, I definitely wouldn't have brought my mother, asshole!"

"Guys!" Scott pleaded, glancing around quickly. "We can fight about this later. Right now, we need to figure out what we're gonna do."

"Scott, we are not gonna be able to do anything," I answered in frustration. "Stiles doesn't have training and I don't have a gun. Short of me running up to the principal and punching him in the face, we don't have any options outside of you keeping Jackson in check."

"But I can't do that if I'm not on the field! Coach is putting me on academic suspension. Principal's orders."

I cursed under my breath. "God, I can't wait until that bald son of a bitch gets what's coming to him."

"Sadie," Scott said in a warning tone, but my death glare silenced him.

"So that's it," Stiles said quietly. "That's all we've got. We can't tell him where Derek is because we don't know where he is. And we can't stop him because we're all we've got left."

"We'll think of something," said Scott. "Maybe—maybe Sadie can call Derek, and—"

"Derek's not coming," I disagreed gravely. "He didn't even want me to know where he was. He knows Gerard is looking for him. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are on their way out of town. That…that's it."

There were a few moments of silence as we all stared out at the field—looking at the players, our classmates, teachers, parents. We already knew that Gerard didn't care about bystander casualties. If he thought we could hand him Derek, he wasn't going to stop. He'd set Jackson loose without any direction, and if the kanima didn't have a target…there was no telling what was going to happen.

"Guys, we'll think of something," Scott insisted, desperate this time. "We will."

I nodded, trying my best to look convincing, but Stiles had already given up.

"Just stay close to your mom," he told me. "And my dad. If things go south…get them out of here, okay?"

"Yeah, of course."

He turned to look at me head on, amber eyes wide, his pale skin a few shades whiter from uncertain terror. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just…"

"It's okay." I reached down, squeezing his hand and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Then I leaned over, doing the same for Scott. "Just stay safe."

"You too," Scott replied. "Seriously, Sadie. When Gerard realizes you're here—"

"I know."

I didn't say more than that. I didn't need to. I wasn't sure where I ranked on the Argents' hit list, but I was willing to bet that I was higher than Greenberg.

I backed away from the bench before Coach Finstock could berate me for distracting his players. It was almost like I could feel the world spinning beneath me. Everyone was talking, laughing in anticipation of the game. People from the other team were jeering, singing along to the stadium's music. I felt like I could hear the individual lacrosse balls as the players tossed them back and forth. It was all overwhelmingly normal, because I was hyperaware of the fact that, in just a few short hours, it was all about to come crashing down.