The clinking of her spoon against the bowl was the only sound in the kitchen. Jamie's cereal had long since turned soggy, but she kept stirring, her appetite as absent as her enthusiasm for the day ahead. Across the room, her mom leaned forward, her elbows propped on the table edge, her coffee cooling beside her.
"You think I wouldn't find out?" her mother said, breaking the silence with a tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Jamie froze mid-stir but didn't look up. She knew better than to give her mom the satisfaction of a reaction.
"The Sheriff called me yesterday," her mom continued. "Told me you were out past curfew."
Jamie rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her frustration. "I was walking home. It's not like I was committing a felony."
Her mom's voice rose, cutting through Jamie's dismissiveness. "You broke the rules, Jamie. I've told you a thousand times that curfew is non-negotiable. And to top it off, I hear from your boss at the ice rink that you've been fired!"
Jamie looked up now, her expression defiant. "I quit, actually," she said flatly.
"You quit?" Melissa asked in disbelief. "Jamie, that job was a chance for you to show some responsibility, something you haven't exactly been great at lately." Her mother's voice cracked under the weight of her frustration. "Do you even care about your future? About—"
"God, can we not do this right now?" Jamie snapped, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape. "I get it. I'm grounded. Again. End of story."
Her mom's lips pressed into a thin line, her anger simmering. "If you're so eager to end this conversation, then start proving to me that you can follow some basic rules. Until then, you're grounded indefinitely."
Jamie grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth, storming out the door without another word. She dashed out the door to where Scott and Stiles were waiting in the jeep. Jackson was AWOL again so she had to settle for Stiles' icy looks and contempt.
Jamie pushed the door of the jeep open with more force than necessary, the metal creaking in protest. She slid into the backseat, tossing her bag onto the floor with a huff. Stiles didn't even glance at her as he gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed forward.
"Morning," Scott said hesitantly, trying to ease the tension in the car.
"Morning," Jamie muttered, crossing her arms and leaning back into the seat.
The jeep lurched into motion, the gravel crunching under the tires as they pulled away from her house. The silence was thick, broken only by the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio.
"Heard anything from Jackson today?" Scott asked after a moment, trying to sound casual but unable to mask the curiosity in his voice.
"He didn't reply to my message this morning," Jamie replied. Scott glanced at Stiles, who hadn't said a word since Jamie got in.
"He's probably still shaken up. You heard about what happened, right?" he said.
Jamie shifted forward, resting her elbows on the back of the passenger seat. "What do you mean?"
Scott hesitated, his brow furrowing. "Lydia and Jackson were at the video store the other night where when that guy got attacked. They said it was a mountain lion, but..." He trailed off, exchanging a look with Stiles.
Jamie's stomach tightened. "But what?" This was news to her. She felt so out of the loop lately.
Stiles finally spoke, his tone shot. "But Lydia's been acting like she's in a Valium commercial, and Jackson's about one bad day away from a meltdown."
Jamie frowned. "Is Jackson okay?" she asked, her voice softer now.
Stiles let out a sharp laugh, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "Call the papers, Jamie McCall shows concern for a human being besides herself." He spat the words at her, and even Scott looked taken aback by how much venom were behind them.
"I care about Jackson," Jamie shot back, her tone defensive. "Unlike you, who can't seem to say a single word about anything without dripping sarcasm."
Scott cleared his throat, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Alright, let's all just—"
"Drop it," Stiles muttered, cutting him off.
Jamie clenched her fists but forced herself to stay quiet. The rest of the drive was filled with an uncomfortable silence, the tension thick enough to choke on.
Jamie walked into the bustling hallways of Beacon Hills High with a sense of unease that seemed to grow with every step. The sharp sting of Stiles' words still lingered in her mind, and the news about Jackson and Lydia had left her stomach in knots. She scanned the sea of students, her eyes automatically searching for Jackson's familiar frame.
When she finally spotted him near his locker, relief mixed with a surge of worry. Jackson stood there, his shoulders hunched, staring blankly at his locker door as if it held the answers to the universe. His usual air of arrogance was gone, replaced by a quiet tension that made him seem smaller somehow.
Jamie approached cautiously, weaving through the crowd until she was close enough to speak without raising her voice. "Hey," she said softly.
Jackson flinched slightly, turning to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles under them making him look like he hadn't slept in days. "What do you want?" he asked.
Jamie hesitated, unsure how to respond to his hostility. "I just... I wanted to see if you were okay."
Jackson let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Why? So you can feel better about yourself for pretending to care?"
Her jaw tightened. She'd expected pushback, Jackson wasn't exactly known for his emotional openness, but his words still stung. "That's not fair," she said, her voice sharper now. "I'm asking because I do care. You've been off lately, and now I hear about this... attack. You can't expect me not to worry."
Jackson's expression faltered for a moment, the mask of indifference slipping just enough for her to see the turmoil underneath. But just as quickly, he shut it down, slamming his locker shut with a loud clang.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice flat. "Don't worry about me."
Before she could say anything else, he shouldered past her and disappeared into the crowd.
The cafeteria was crowded, but Jamie found Jackson sitting with Danny at the edge of a table, his tray untouched. She approached cautiously, sliding into the seat across from him. She didn't want to push it, but something about the attack bothered her. She needed to know more.
"Hey Danny," she greeted with a tight smile which he returned. "Could you give us a minute?" She shot him a look and he quickly picked up his tray and left for another table.
"Seriously," she said, her voice low. "Are you okay?"
Jackson looked up, his jaw tightening. "I'm fine, Jamie."
"You don't look fine," she pressed, ignoring the irritation in his tone.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "What do you want me to say? That I'm not sleeping? That I can't stop thinking about it?" His voice rose slightly before he caught himself, glancing around. His words were a rare display of vulnerability, and he quickly put his stone-cold shield back up, lowering his tone. "I said I'm fine. Just drop it."
Jamie hesitated, then leaned forward, lowering her voice to match his. "This attack. Do you think it could be... connected?" She didn't elaborate, but the implication was clear.
Jackson's expression hardened. "I don't know," he said, his voice low. "And honestly, I don't care. Just leave it alone, Jamie."
She sat back, stung by his words. "Fine," she said coolly. "I'll leave you alone."
She stood and walked away, her mind buzzing with questions she couldn't ask and fears she couldn't shake.
After her conversation with Jackson got her nowhere, Jamie decided she needed a new approach to get the information she wanted. Reluctantly, she approached Stiles in the hallway, unsure where her bother was.
"Hey," she said as he grabbed stuff from his locker hurriedly. "So, I heard you're going to check on Lydia."
"Yeah so," he responded without looking at her. Jamie took a breath.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked tentatively. Stiles stopped what he was doing and whipped his head around, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her.
"You wanna check on Lydia?" he asked incredulously.
Jamie crossed her arms, trying not to flinch under Stiles' scrutiny. "Yeah, I do," she said firmly, though her voice lacked the conviction she'd hoped for.
Stiles slammed his locker shut with more force than necessary, the metallic clang echoing through the hallway. "You care about Lydia now? Since when?" he snapped, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"I care about people," Jamie shot back, though the defensive edge in her voice betrayed her irritation.
Stiles raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Sure, you do. And I'm guessing this sudden burst of concern has nothing to do with what happened at the video store."
Jamie clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. She hated how Stiles could see through her, even when she was trying to be subtle. "Look, I just want to know if she's okay. That's all."
"Right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because you're such a caring, selfless person."
Jamie stepped closer, her voice lowering to a near hiss. "You don't have to be a jerk about it. I just want to help."
Stiles studied her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing again, as if trying to figure out her true motives. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't make this about you, okay? Lydia's been through enough."
Jamie nodded, relieved but annoyed at the same time. "Let's go."
The drive to Lydia's house was tense and quiet, the air thick with unspoken words. Jamie stared out the window, her mind racing with thoughts of the attack at the video store and what it might mean.
When they pulled up to the Martin residence, Stiles killed the engine and turned to her. "Let me do the talking, okay?"
"Whatever," Jamie muttered, climbing out of the Jeep and following him up the driveway.
Lydia's mom answered the door, her usual polished appearance slightly frayed at the edges. "Stiles," she said with a tired smile after he introduced himself. Then her gaze shifted to Jamie. "And you must be... Jamie, right?"
Jamie nodded awkwardly.
"She's upstairs," Mrs. Martin said, stepping aside to let them in. "But she's... not herself right now."
Jamie exchanged a look with Stiles before they headed up the stairs.
When they entered Lydia's room, Jamie's stomach sank. Lydia was lying on her bed, her usually vibrant energy replaced by a dull lethargy. Her eyes were half-closed, and a faint haze of perfume and stale air filled the room.
"Lydia?" Stiles said gently, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
She blinked slowly, her gaze unfocused. She murmured something under her breath, her voice thick and slurred.
Jamie lingered by the door, feeling out of place as she took in the scene. The nightstand was littered with prescription bottles, their labels facing outward like trophies of sedation.
"What happened at the video store?" Stiles asked softly, leaning closer.
Lydia's eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, Jamie thought she wouldn't answer. But then, in a slow, dreamy voice, she said, "It was... a mountain lion."
Stiles frowned. "Lydia, that doesn't make any sense. Are you sure—"
"Mountain lion," Lydia repeated, her voice firmer now, as if trying to convince herself.
Jamie's eyes darted to the pill bottles on the nightstand. She couldn't make out the names of the medications, but their sheer number made her uneasy. She hadn't had anything but cigarettes since she last saw Tucker, and she'd been managing to get by. But the recent attack had set her on edge, bringing back old feelings. Abd the temptation for something to numb those feelings was starting to overwhelm her. While Stiles continued talking to Lydia, Jamie edged closer to the nightstand, her fingers itching to grab one of the bottles.
"Jamie," Stiles said sharply, pulling her attention back.
"What?" she replied innocently, stepping away from the nightstand.
"Let's go," he said, standing up and gesturing toward the door.
Jamie hesitated, her gaze flickering back to the pill bottles. But she followed him out of the room, her mind already plotting her next move.
As Stiles and Jamie descended the stairs, the weight of the visit hung heavily between them. Stiles looked tense, his shoulders tight as he muttered a polite goodbye to Mrs Martin. Jamie trailed behind him, her eyes darting back up the staircase.
When they reached the driveway, Jamie suddenly stopped, patting her side in exaggerated realization.
"Crap," she muttered.
Stiles turned, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
"I left my bag in Lydia's room," Jamie said quickly, her tone casual but urgent. "I'll be right back."
Before Stiles could respond, she spun on her heel and hurried back to the front door, knocking lightly. Mrs Martin reappeared, looking puzzled.
"Forgot my bag," Jamie explained with a sheepish smile.
Mrs. Martin nodded and stepped aside to let her back in. Jamie climbed the stairs two at a time, her pulse quickening as she reached Lydia's room.
Lydia was still lying on the bed, her breathing soft and steady. Jamie hesitated for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt as she glanced at the girl. But the sight of the pill bottles on the nightstand pulled her focus.
She stepped quietly across the room, her hand reaching out to grab one of the bottles. She glanced at the label, Alprazolam, and stuffed it into her pocket. Then another, Diazepam, followed it.
As she reached for a third bottle, Lydia stirred slightly, muttering something incoherent. Jamie froze, her heart pounding. But Lydia didn't wake.
Jamie grabbed the last bottle and slipped it into her bag, which she'd intentionally left on the floor earlier. She slung the bag over her shoulder and hurried back toward the door.
When Jamie rejoined Stiles at the Jeep, he was leaning against the driver's side door, his arms crossed and an annoyed expression on his face.
"Took you long enough," he said, climbing into the car.
Jamie slid into the passenger seat, her bag clutched tightly in her lap. "Lydia was half-asleep. I didn't want to wake her," she lied smoothly.
Stiles didn't seem to buy it, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he started the engine, muttering something under his breath about needing answers.
"So, mountain lion?" she questioned him, breaking some of the tension. Stiles shook his head.
"She only said that because that's what the police told her it was," he said, realising after he may have said too much. Jamie frowned at him.
"Then what was it?" Stiles didn't answer her question, and she didn't press him for an answer.
Jamie leaned her head against the window as they pulled away, her fingers brushing against the pill bottles in her bag. Guilt gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, but she shoved it aside, focusing instead on the questions swirling in her mind: about Lydia, Jackson, and the attack at the video store.
She wasn't proud of what she'd done, but in her world, survival often came at a cost.
Jamie sat at the small desk, her eyes glazed over as she watched her mom pace back and forth outside Mr Harris's classroom, talking into her phone. Melissa was trying to get a hold of Scott, who hadn't shown up to the parent- teacher conference, and wasn't answering his phone.
Jamie leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, and stared at the walls of the classroom, trying not to focus on the pit in her stomach. School had been a mess lately. Her grades were slipping, her relationship with Tucker, whatever it was, had dissolved, and her mom—well, her mom was angry.
She glanced at Mr Harris, who was flipping through some papers on his desk, clearly waiting for Melissa to finish the phone call. He looked like any other teacher, but he had this sharpness to him. The kind that made Jamie feel like a kid again, the kind that made her want to shrink in her seat.
Finally, her mom hung up and turned to face them. "I'm sorry about that," Melissa said, taking a seat beside Jamie. "Still no answer from Scott. I don't know where he is." She glanced at her daughter, a touch of concern flashing across her face.
"Probably skipping with Allison," Jamie muttered, rolling her eyes. "I mean, it's hilarious, right? Scott McCall, the perfect child, not showing up to his own parent-teacher conference."
Melissa gave her a warning look. Jamie just shrugged. She wasn't going to let her mom's concern for Scott ruin her moment of amusement. The one kid who always followed the rules was acting out.
Mr Harris cleared his throat. "So, Jamie," he said, pushing a few papers aside to focus on her. "Let's talk about your grade." He slid a paper across the desk toward her mom. "You've been doing... okay. The year started off shaky, then some good marks on recent homework, but you've failed to turn in a paper that was due."
Jamie felt her throat tighten as her eyes darted to the paper in front of her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually sat down and done any homework, not since everything started falling apart. She swallowed, hoping that her mom wouldn't notice her sudden discomfort.
"Jamie's been... distracted," Melissa said quickly, looking at Mr Harris in a way that made Jamie uncomfortable. She knew her mom was trying to protect her, but sometimes it just made things worse. "She's been through some stuff lately, but she's not the kind of kid to just skip out on her responsibilities." Jamie had to swallow her laughter at those words coming out of her mother's mouth, especially considering their conversation that very morning.
Mr Harris didn't seem convinced. "I'm not sure I believe that, Melissa," he said, his voice calm but firm. He looked at Jamie, his eyes sharp. "You had a wave of good marks, but then you completely missed an assignment and haven't turned in your homework." He took a breath. "I suspect you might not be completing your assignments yourself."
Jamie's stomach churned, and she could feel the heat rise to her face. She looked down at the desk, trying to hide the flush of guilt creeping across her skin. How could he know? Her mind raced with excuses she didn't believe herself.
"What do you mean by that?" Melissa asked, her voice defensive, but Jamie could hear the doubt creeping in.
Mr Harris folded his hands and looked at them both. "I've been teaching for long enough to know when a student isn't fully engaged. I've seen it before—students who get help from others, or who turn in work that's clearly not their own. I'm just worried that Jamie might not be taking responsibility for her own education."
Jamie felt her mom's eyes on her, the scrutiny almost unbearable. She could feel the weight of her lies pressing down on her chest. How could she explain to her mom that she wasn't doing her work because she was too busy dealing with everything else?
"Is that true, Jamie," her mother asked sternly. All Jamie could do was shake her head. Mr Harris rolled his eyes.
"Ms McCall…"
"I know my daughter." Melissa cut him off, her voice firm but tinged with concern. "She may be having some trouble, but she's not a liar."
"Of course not," Mr. Harris said, nodding. "But I'd like to suggest that you keep a closer eye on her assignments. She needs to be more accountable, or her grade will continue to drop."
Melissa sighed, and Jamie could feel the disappointment radiating off her mom. It stung more than she cared to admit.
"We'll do that," Melissa said, her voice softer now. She turned to Jamie, her eyes filled with an unspoken question. "We're going to talk about this more when we get home."
Jamie just nodded, barely looking at her. She didn't want to have this conversation. Not now. Not ever.
The meeting wrapped up shortly after that. As they stood up to leave, Jamie was sure her mom had more questions for her, but thankfully, Melissa didn't press her further. They exited the classroom, and Jamie felt the weight of Mr Harris's words like a heavy chain around her neck. She could already feel her mom's disappointment like an impending storm.
Once they reached the parking lot, Jamie hesitated, her heart pounding. She had to say something. But what?
Luckily, she didn't have time to come up with anything, as her mother stormed off in pursuit of her other child. In the distance, she could see Scott and Allison getting out of a car, sheepish looks on their faces. It didn't surprise her that her mother was so angry. Scott hadn't just skipped school—he'd missed the entire parent-teacher conference. There was no way Melissa would let him get away with it.
Jamie's gaze lingered on her mom, the tension in her shoulders finally easing as she saw her approach Scott and Allison. The two of them exchanged guilty glances, both looking like they'd just been caught in something they couldn't talk their way out of. Her mom was going to give them both an earful. But Jamie couldn't help the way her lips curled into a slight smirk.
"Good luck with that," she muttered under her breath, adjusting the strap of her bag across her chest.
But just as she was about to turn and head for the car, a series of screams ripped through the air, sending a jolt of terror through her. Jamie's head snapped up, her body freezing as chaos erupted across the parking lot.
"Get down! Now!" The commanding voice of Sheriff Stilinski boomed, followed by the frantic shouts of several other people.
Before Jamie could process what was happening, her eyes locked onto the scene unfolding in front of her. The Sheriff was shouting at people to move away, his hand pointing toward the far end of the parking lot where something large and shadowy was moving in the distance.
Her breath hitched in her throat. At first, it was hard to make out what it was. But as it came closer, her blood ran cold.
A huge mountain lion.
The creature's eyes were locked on her as it prowled across the lot, its movements smooth and deliberate. Its coat was a pale tan, almost glowing under the harsh lights of the school. Its paws were massive, and its claws dug into the asphalt with every step. It was terrifyingly close, closer than any animal she'd ever seen in the wild.
Without even thinking, Jamie froze. Her body refused to move, her legs locked in place as she stared into the mountain lion's golden eyes. It felt like time had slowed, like she was caught in some awful nightmare. The air around her seemed to go still, her pulse thumping in her ears as every cell in her body screamed to run—but she couldn't.
"Jamie!" Sheriff Stilinski's voice tore through the fog in her mind, sharp and filled with panic. "Get out of the way! Move!"
But she couldn't. Her body refused to listen. Every muscle in her legs felt stiff as concrete. It was like she was rooted to the ground, paralyzed with fear. The mountain lion was almost upon her now. Its sharp teeth gleamed, and its growl reverberated in her bones.
"Jamie, move!" Sheriff Stilinski shouted again, but it was too late.
Without warning, the Sheriff lunged toward her, shoving her to the side with a force that sent her sprawling to the ground. His actions were so quick that Jamie barely had time to register what happened. The world spun around her as her body hit the pavement, slamming against the cold ground. Her vision blurred for a second as she fought to steady herself. But she didn't have time to recover.
The mountain lion, now just a few feet away, whipped its head toward the Sheriff in one smooth motion, and Jamie's heart stopped.
Then, in the next instant, there was a screech of tires.
A car was coming in reverse, swerving out of control. The driver, panicking, was trying to avoid the chaos, but the car had no chance. It slammed directly into the Sheriff, who had been moving to protect her. The impact sent the Sheriff flying to the ground, his body tumbling and skidding across the parking lot. The car came to a screeching halt, but the damage had been done.
Jamie's breath came in ragged gasps. Her body trembled with shock, her skin clammy as the panic surged through her. It was all happening so fast.
Through the haze of fear, she saw Mr Argent, standing nearby, raising a gun. Without a second thought, he aimed it at the mountain lion, steadying his arm with cold precision. The crack of the gun echoed through the night air. The mountain lion let out a single, pained screech before crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Jamie's pulse thundered in her ears, her chest rising and falling in erratic gasps. Her hands shook violently as she tried to push herself up from the ground, her knees weak beneath her.
"Jamie!"
Scott's voice cut through the cacophony, frantic and filled with concern. Jamie barely registered the blur of movement as he ran toward her, his face pale with worry. He dropped to his knees beside her, hands hovering over her shoulders like he wasn't sure if he should touch her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight. His brown eyes searched hers, filled with panic and guilt.
Jamie pushed herself up, wincing as her palms scraped against the rough tarmac. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline still coursing through her veins, but the walls were already starting to go up. She shook her head, shrugging him off.
"I'm fine," she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended.
Scott flinched slightly, his hand falling to his side. "Jamie, you—"
"I said I'm fine!" she repeated, her tone laced with irritation as she avoided his gaze. She pushed herself to her feet, brushing dirt from her jeans, though her hands were still trembling.
Scott stared at her for a moment, hurt flashing across his face, but he didn't press further. "Okay," he said quietly, backing off.
The parking lot was still buzzing with activity—teachers shouting, students gawking, the distant wail of sirens growing louder. Jamie kept moving, weaving between the chaos until she reached the edge of the lot, where a row of parked cars stood in eerie stillness compared to the commotion around them.
She ducked behind a silver sedan, crouching down and leaning her back against the cold metal. Her hands shook as she reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, her fingers brushing against the small plastic bottle hidden there.
She pulled it out and twisted the cap off with more force than necessary, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Tipping the bottle into her palm, she let a single pill drop, its smooth surface catching the faint light from a nearby lamppost.
Her throat felt tight, but she forced herself to swallow it dry, the bitterness sharp and unwelcome. She tilted her head back against the car, closing her eyes and exhaling shakily.
The noise of the parking lot seemed to fade for a moment as she sat there, gripping the pill bottle tightly in her hand. She told herself it was fine, that she needed this, that it was the only way to get through the day without falling apart.
But even as the familiar numbness began to creep in, her chest still felt heavy, her thoughts still racing. She stayed behind the car, hidden from view, listening to the muffled sounds of the world around her.
It wasn't the mountain lion that had caused her to panic. Not really. It was the memories flooding back. The way she froze, just like before.