"But if you play, I'll have no one to talk to on the bench," Stiles complained as he struggled slightly to carry all of his lacrosse equipment. "Are you really gonna do that to your best friend?"

Scott let out a light huff before turning towards his friend, "I can't sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season I make first line."

I tapped Scott's shoulder and smiled, "Then go get em tiger."

Scott flashed me a friendly smile before dropping his bag on the ground, and running out onto the field. Stiles and I made our way over to the bleachers, where we would both be sitting for the rest of the tryout. The stands were mostly empty, but my eyes quickly fell on Lydia and Allison, who were sitting side by side on the second highest row of the bleachers.

Since I wasn't allowed to sit with the team, and believe me I tried. I instead made my way up to the two girls, and took a seat on the bench below them. Lydia rolled her eyes once I took my seat, and Allison smiled a little brighter at the sight of a familiar face. Seeing that I was sitting next to the strawberry blonde, Stiles waved happily from the bench. Jealous swam through my veins, but I still smiled brightly and waved back.

"Hey guys," I said, smiling brightly, "It's okay if I sit here, right?"

Lydia opened up her mouth to say something, but Allison spoke first, "Yeah, it's fine."

"Yeah, fine," Lydia mumbled, smiling fakely at me.

Silence fell between the three of us as we turned towards the practice. All the boys, freshman to senior were wearing the Beacon Hills High red and white lacrosse jersey. Each of them held a stick in hand, and had helmets and padding to protect themselves from the rough tackling. Most of the boys were jogging and moving around, but Scott was standing talking to the Coach, who was also our economics teacher.

After tabbing Scott on the face, Coach blew this famous whistle and yelled, "Let's go! Come on!"

The boys started to line up in front of the net, doing the normal drill. Chit-chatting grew quickly as the line got longer. But my eyes weren't on the seniors and juniors in line, they were on the two sophomores that looked young and out-of-place among the large, mature uper-classman. A sharp sigh escaped my lips when I saw Scott moving over to the net, he was decent on the field but sucked as goalie.

Of course Coach was trying to embarrass the poor sophomore on the first day. The hateful laughing of others probably made him sleep soundly at night.

Stiles was still sitting on the bench, happy as a clam.

"Who is that?" Allison asked, her eyes staring curiously at someone. I followed my cousin's brown eyes closely until I realized that they landed on Scott McCall himself. A grin came onto my face, thinking of their small moment in first hour.

"Him?" Lydia said, "I'm not sure who he is."

"His name is Scott McCall," I said, facing my cousin, "He's pretty cool, a very good friend of mine."

Allison smiled, but the joy fluttered when Lydia made a face and said, "Why? He's not that interesting."

"He's in my English class."

Another whistle was blown, sending waves through the crowd of lacrosse players. I started fidgeting with my fingers, and glanced over the field. Nervousness filled me as I saw the first guy in line start running forward, and Scott was doing something. He had his gloved hands over his helmet, and he was stumbling around, not paying attention to the drill that was beginning.

The ball was thrown sharply, and it hit Scott right in the face. I cringed at the sight. The force of the incoming ball sent Scott roughly to the ground.

Laughter spread through the adolescence teens, and even Coach let out a few wheezes. I rolled my eyes, annoyed with the immature comedy. Some of the boys spit out rude comments, making their friends grin. Scott quickly got to his feet, and looked around with sulking shoulders. A sigh escaped me as Scott tried to shake off his embarrassment, and prepare himself for the next shot.

The next boy came running forward, and Scott started bouncing, ready to pounce. The ball was released from the stick, and moved swiftly through the air. My eyes followed it closely as it landed in Scott's net. I blinked a couple times, re-visiting the moment. The ball was falling through the air one moment, then landed in the middle of Scott's net. Comprehension came over quickly, Scott just saved a goal.

"Yeah!" I heard Stiles yell.

This event continued to happen every time a new player came up. Even under their helmets, I could see the veins popping out of their heads. They would run roughly, and throw the balls as hard as they could, but nothing seemed to get past Scott McCall. Every time a ball was caught, the tense in his shoulder faded, and his nervousness disappeared. He must have been secretly practicing, because he even had Coach speechless.

"He seems like he's pretty good," Allison mumbled, her eyes glued to Scott.

"Yeah, very good."

"What do you mean good?" I asked, "He's fantastic."

The tension in the fall air became even thicker when Jackson cut to the front of the line. It was always stated that he was the best lacrosse player at Beacon Hills, and I always grimaced when I agreed. Jackson was good, but I didn't worry for a moment about Scott. I believed he could beat the rich boy, and break a little bit of his huge ego.

Jackson ran forward, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His moves were sharp and graceful, and when he threw his arm back to throw, all the muscle in his arms tensed. The small white ball flew through the air, and landed roughly into Scott's net.

I jumped to my feet, and cheered. Amazement and pride flowing heavily through my veins. I can't believe I made fun of him for thinking he could get first line, I can't believe he had been practicing secretly to be this supernatural bean he is now. Oh god, I hope he's not taking steroids.

"That is my friend!" Stiles yelled, also on his feet.

"He's my best friend!" I cheered, grinning at Stiles who sucked out his tongue at me. I mimicked his gesture back.

Scott, his stance filled with confidence, spun his stick around, and threw the ball over his shoulder. The ball landed perfectly in the assistant coach's stick, and the small graceful gesture made the crowd cheer again.

Scott McCall was already the talk of Beacon High, and the first week of school isn't even over yet.

~~~

"I don't know what it was," Scott explained, "It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that's not the only weird thing."

"There's more weird things?" I asked, stepping cautiously through a puddle.

The evening sun shining dimly in the woods as we made our way through. My stance was careless, feeling less anxious in the thick tree when the sun was blazing above. Questions were spilling from me and Stiles's lips as we walked behind the cheerful Scott. Each one of his answers were the same, that he couldn't explain it.

"Yeah," Scott answered, "I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things."

"Smell things," Stiles questioned, sarcasm on the tip of his tongue, "Like what?"

Scott thought about this for a moment before saying, "Like Mint Mojito gum in B's pocket."

A confused look came onto my face, and my finger immediately flew to my jacket pocket. "I don't even have any Mint Mojito..." My eyes widened as a green stick of gum appeared in my hand. It must have fallen out of my last pack, which I bought about four months ago. Mint wasn't my favorite flavor of gum, so I rarely bought it.

Scott turned sharply, crumbling the leaves under his feet. He started forward, causing me and Stiles to move our feet. My brain was mixing with confusion as the conversation continued causely.

"So all this started with a bite?" Stiles asked.

"What if it's like an infection," Scott mumbled, uncertain in his voice. I quickly missed the joy that had been bubbling through his bloodstream. "Like my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?"

"I don't think that a thing, but I'll agree if it makes you feel better," I told him.

"You know what?" Stiles said, "I actually think I've heard of this. It's a specific kind of infection."

Scott stopped in his tracks, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Completely serious?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest."

"Yeah," Stiles said before continuing, "I think it's called lycanthropy."

I raised my eyebrow as Scott started to panic, "What is that? Is that bad?"

"Oh, yeah," Stiles said, his voice on the edge of a sarcastic joke, "It's the worst. But only once a month."

"Once a month?" I questioned, now understanding where he was going with this.

"Mmm-hmm," Stiles said, "On the night of a full moon."

That's when Stiles mimicked a weak baby howl, and a smile cracked across my face. Scott, coming to the releasition, pushed Stiles backwards playfully.

"Hey man," Stiles laughed, "Hey, you're the one who heard a wolf howling."

"Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me," Scott said, his voice filled with terror and seriousness.

"I know! You're a werewolf!" Stiles joked before making a growling noise.

I let out a sigh, and gave Stiles a sharp look, shutting him up. I then turned to Scott and said, "Ok, obviously, Stiles is an asshat and thinks everything is a joke."

"Hey!"

"But he's just kidding around," I continued, "You should go talk to your mom, she is a nurse after all. But if you do see us in shop class melting a bunch of silver, it's because Friday's a full moon."

Stiles grinned at me, and we high-fived.

Scott came to a stop, his eyes on the ground. Confusion came over his face as he took in his surroundings. "No, I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler."

The shaggy haired boy dropped to his knees, scrambling through the leaves to try and find his missing inhaler. "Maybe the killer moved the body," Stiles said.

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler," Scott said, looking up at us, "Those things are like 80 bucks."

That's when I let out a light scream.

Standing in the middle of the forest was a man. He was standing a couple feet away from us, and his face was hard as stone. His clothing was all black, and intimidating. The darkness matched well with his pale skin that looked frozen. His eyes were a shape of sharp brown, and his hair was spiked dark brown.

Hearing my shock, my two best friends turned to face the man. Stiles put his hand awkwardly in his pocket, and Scott eyed the man as if he looked somewhat familiar.

"What are you doing here?" The man asked as he started walking towards us. Each of his footsteps sent another wave of terror through me, and lightly started to hide behind Stiles's lean figure. If this man attacked, I guess Stiles would have to be sacrificed. "Huh? This is private property."

Stiles cleared his throat, "Uh, sorry, man, we didn't know."

"Yeah, we were just looking for something, but... " Scott said, staring at the man, "Uh, forget it."

The man then throws the shaggy-haired boy his inhaler, and the gesture sends a nervous wave through my tense body. Scott eyes the inhaler for a moment, trying to find something out of place on the piece of plastic.

Without another word, the man turned on his heel and started in the opposite direction. Once he was a couple steps away, Scott mumbled, "All right, come on guys, I gotta get to work."

Before taking a step forward, Stiles stopped him with a subtle hand.

"Dude, that was Derek Hale."

"The Derek Hale," I asked, memories of rumors flowing through my head.

"Yeah," Stiles said, his words quick, "You remember, right? He's only a few years older than us."

"Remember what?" Scott asked, looking between the two of us.

"His family," I said, recalling the memories, "They all died in a fire."

"Yeah, like 10 years old," Stiles added.

"I wonder what he's doing back," Scott wondered, fiddling with his inhaler.

Stiles let out a scoff, then started walking.

"Come on," Stiles mumbled, as we all started back into the thick woods.

~~~

I couldn't sleep.

No matter what I tried, unconsciousness wouldn't come over me. I desperately wanted to sleep, I wanted to get away from the numbness that coursed through my veins and the toxic thoughts that filled my head. I wanted to drift off into a nice painless sleep, where everything goes away. But no matter how tired my eyes got, sleep wouldn't come.

By the time I checked the clock for the third time, annoyance started to seep in. The blue digital letters read 2:31, and the sight sent another wave of tiredness over myself. The second day of school would start in less than six hours, and I was going to have to survive it on zero sleep. So much for starting the year off right.

Eventually, I lifted my head from my fluffy pillows, and the action sent a wave of pain through my head, making it throb loudly. A sigh escaped my lips, and I roughly rubbed my eyes and temple. My fingertips were as cold as ice, but they felt good on my sweaty face. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I slowly spilled out of my warm blankets.

No one would be awake at this hour so I would have my own first floor all to myself. Night of restlessness wasn't rare for me, so I was used to doing quiet activities to wear myself out. Reading was always the best one, education always makes me sleepy.

My footsteps were soundless as I slipped out of my bedroom. The house was completely silent, and a pin dropping would sound like an explosion. The empty air was thick, weighing heavily on my chest. My head throbbed, but the dizziness didn't stop me from moving gracefully through hallways.

Before I turned the corner into the living room, I came to a quick stop and my heart started picking up. I heard voices coming from the living room, and even though their voices were light whispers, I could still hear them.

Even though I learned from a young age that eavesdropping was bad, curiosity won me over.

In the living room, I heard the voices of my mother and Uncle Chris, and their tones were not friendly. I always wanted to know the two siblings' past, but I knew that no one would ever tell me, even if I asked with manners. Eavesdropping might get me information, so I was going to stand my ground.

"I will tell you one more time Chris," Mom snapped, "I wouldn't do it."

"You're heard the rumors, Sabrina," Uncle Chris snapped back, his voice just as stubborn as hers, "One person is already dead, we need to do something."

"You know I let you move into my house," Mom said, "And I can just as easily move you out."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Try me, Chris," Mom said, "But just know that you will lose."

Uncle Chris let out a sigh, "Then why don't you help us."

"I left this life a long time ago," Mom said, her voice becoming softer, "I'm not coming back, no matter what you say."

Uncle Chris was silent for a moment before saying, "Fine, I wouldn't bug you anymore, and I won't threaten you."

"Thank you."

"But just listen," Chris continued, "There is something in Beacon Hills, a killer. We've handled killers before, but remember how many innocent people lost their lives, and one of them could be Brynn."

"Don't bring her into this."

"She's strong," Chris says, "She could become a great partner with Allison.

"Oh, yeah, when are you gonna tell your daughter?"

Chris laughed, "Yeah, you got me there."

"Chris, I trust you," Mom said suddenly, surprising me slightly, "You and the others will put a stop to this before anyone else dies. Beacon Hills is a small town, this killer can't be too much of a mastermind. It's nothing an Argent can't handle."