Chapter Text
Every Saturday I have a painting class at the community center. I would get dropped off by my mom and have to walk home after it was over since I couldn’t drive yet. I had been doing this since sixth grade. Never mind that when the class ended it was normally eight o’clock at night. Everyone thought Beacon Hills was a safe town.
Tonight it is chilly and I pull my jacket tighter around me. My breath makes puffs in the cool air. I can hear the wind whistling in the trees. Something howls in the distance. The moon shines bright in the dark sky. As I keep walking a man running on all fours speeds past me. My eyes widen as I spin my head to watch him. When I think he is gone I keep walking, eyeing my surroundings as I go. It is a few minutes before I hear footsteps behind me.
“I don’t have any money on me,” I say, turning around slowly with my hands up.
“I’m not going to rob you.” The man has dark hair and couldn’t be more than 22 years old. He seems relaxed with his hands in his pockets despite my accusation.
“What do you want?” I lower my hands but don’t become less on edge.
“You shouldn’t be out alone tonight.”
“I can do just fine, thank you very much.” I keep walking. I can still hear him behind me. “It’s creepy the way you’re following me.” The man moves up beside although still two feet away. I silently submit to the fact he is not going away. “What’s your name?”
“Derek.”
“I know I shouldn’t tell a creepy guy who is tailing me but my name is Emery.” Derek doesn’t respond. “Why are you tailing me?”
“You don’t know what can come out at night.”
“Creepy guys with cute dark hair for one.” He presses his lips together.
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Maybe.” Why was I doing this? I was never this forward any other time. Especially when this guy could murder me here and now. He is also very much older than me.
“You got guts, Emery. I’ll give you that.” I think he is actually cracking a slight smile. But then we hear a tree branch crack and he is instantly standing alert in front of me smiling no more. We continue walking after he seems to have deemed there no threat. I stop after a minute.
“This is my stop. Thank you for walking with me I guess.” He salutes me as he disappears into the night. I can’t help but watch him in the darkness before closing the door. I shake my head. I can’t believe what just happened.
The next morning I wake up to Beacon Hills News on the TV. Video 2*C Attacked by Mountain Lion. 1 Dead. I was seven blocks away from there last night when I left the community center. If that mountain lion had gone seven blocks in my direction I could be dead. Maybe that dude last night wasn’t that paranoid. That thought wakes me up more. Did someone named Derek really follow me home? And then my mom calls me. And the thoughts are over. Monday morning I wake to my mom shaking me.
“Wake up Emery! You’re going to be late!” I blink awake trying to comprehend what she is saying. My head is groggy. “Emery get moving! We leave in fifteen!” That gets me moving and I grumble quickly trying to get ready. I pull on some jeans and a long sleeve shirt. I grab a bagel on my way out just making it on time to my mom’s car.
“You’re lucky little lady,” my mom shakes her finger at me.
“Don’t I know it.” The rest of the ride to school goes by in silence while I eat my bagel. The car grinds to a halt outside Beacon Hill High School. Students stream about. I open the door getting out.
“Bye, mom. Love you!”
“Bye, sweetie! Have a good day at school. See you tonight at parent-teacher conferences.” The door slams shut behind me as my mom speeds away. I almost forgot parent-teacher conferences are tonight. Kids go into the building and I am with them. No one looks my way. At my locker, I shove my books into it. In history class second period, Mr. Westover declares that we are starting a project today and then gives us partners. I’m paired with the new girl. I plop down next to her.
“Hi, my name is Allison. Argent.” She speaks first.
“I’m Emery.” Insert awkward pause here. “I like your necklace.” It has a big pendant on it showing a wolf.
“Thanks, it's a family heirloom.”
“What war do you want to do our project on?” We decide on the Spanish American War. The whole class goes by in a blur as we work on the project. As we leave I wave goodbye to Allison. The teacher tells her happy birthday and I have to ask.
“It’s your birthday?”
“Yeah.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Happy birthday!”
“Thanks,” Allison answers walking into the crowded hallway. I have chemistry the next hour and Mr. Harris is on a rant about parent-teacher conferences.
“Just a friendly reminder that parent-teacher conferences are tonight. Students below a C average are required to attend. I won’t name you because shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment. Has anyone seen Scott Mccall?” Mr. Harris walks up the aisle looking directly at Stiles. He is highlighting in his book with the cap in his mouth. Before Stiles can answer Jackson walks in late.
Stiles Stilinski and Scott Mccall are a matching set almost always seen together. They sit about the same place as me in the food chain. Jackson Whittmore is dating Lydia Martin, the school's popular mean girl. He is one of the leaders and best players of the lacrosse team. Both of them are super-rich. Jackson sits down and Mr. Harris has a whispered conversation with him. He then loudens his voice. “Everyone start reading chapter nine.” Mr. Harris walks to the front of the room. “Mr. Stilinski, try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It’s chemistry, not a coloring book.” Stiles spits out the cap catching it. I huff and go to read. Stiles is whispering behind me with Danny. Danny Mahealani is Jackson’s best friend and Beacon Hills resident gay.
I’m walking through the halls after class and I swear I see a glimpse of Derek but I must be seeing things. The figure is gone as soon as it appears. I sigh going to math.
The rest of the day goes by quickly as I keep dreading tonight. I’m not failing anything. I’m passing with flying colors. But all the teachers are going to say the same thing. That I need to raise my hand and be more social in class. I stay after school in the library until both my parents show up.
My dad is a lawyer and my mom is a tax manager. When they met in college it was a picture-perfect love story. Their whole lives were perfect. Until they had me and I broke my mom. She couldn’t have any more kids. So she gets stuck with the child who can’t socialize. Both my parents are extroverts. They don’t get it.
My dad is a lawyer and my mom is a tax manager. When they met in college it was a picture-perfect love story. Their whole lives were perfect. Until they had me and I broke my mom. She couldn’t have any more kids. So she gets stuck with the child who can’t socialize. Both my parents are extroverts. They don’t get it.
“What teacher do you want to visit first?” my dad asks.
“Whichever one you want.” They decide on Ms. Flemming and go to her room. And that is the start of six parent-teacher conferences I have to sit through in which teachers say I’m doing great. My parents gush about me. Then the teacher says I need to be more social in class. Not sit in the back of the room. Raise my hand. Choose group projects. My parents lecture me as we head out to the parking lot.
“All you teachers said the same thing,” starts my mother.
“That you’re a great student but need to engage more with your classmates,” dad continues. I’m not looking them in the eye. By now we’ve made it into the parking lot.
“You need to work on this sweetie. It’s why you were seeing Dr. Barr once a week last year. Do we need to go back to that?”
“No.” Before my mom can speak up a girl nearby screams. People rush past us. My dad pushes us behind him looking to see what the commotion is about. More people yell and move out of the way. Growling precedes the animal. Cars start to leave the parking lot honking and we move back even further.
“Otto just get in the car,” my mom whispers. Dad apparently doesn’t hear her. A car hits Sheriff Stilinski right in front of us. My dad rushes to help him up and pull him out of the way. The sheriff pulls a gun off his leg. Before he fires another gunshot rings out. We follow the Sheriff to the source of the noise. A long man with greying hair is holding a silver handgun. A dead mountain lion lays 20 feet away from him. Everyone crowds around the animal. Sheriff Stilinski starts shouting orders.
“Nothing to see here. Everyone goes home. Mr. Argent, I need to talk to you.” So that’s Allison’s dad. My dad pulls me and my mom towards the car. Mom is shaking. The ride home is silent with my parents giving each other knowing looks. But they don’t say anything to me. I don’t want to pick another fight over something. I know I won’t win this fight.