IV. | lydia

                    WE WEREN'T IN the car for long until I got a message from Presley on my phone. Where are you? He asked. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I was in the car with these two, so I tried to figure out an excuse that he wouldn't question: I forgot something at the school so I made my way there and I would walk home or I went looking for Lydia Martin again. The first one seemed best, so I sent it, and didn't look at the response when it came back.

I waited a few minutes, until I was certain that we wouldn't be able to turn around and go back to the funeral, then I popped up in the backseat. The cab was silent so I opened my mouth, "You should really start locking your doors," I stated.

Immediately, the car swerved off the road and came to a sudden stop. Stiles whirled around so fast I was afraid he would break his neck. "What are you doing in my car?" He yelled.

"What does 415 mean?" I asked, ignoring the question he posed.

"Disturbance in a car," McCall explained. "Stiles was just ... taking me home."

A scoff fell out of my mouth. "Okay, that's crap. I should let you both know that I'm super stubborn, and nothing you say will get me out of this car. I'm not kidding. I want to go see the disturbance in the car."

Stiles sighed and looked at McCall before shrugging and glancing back at me. "It's probably nothing - "

"Start driving." I leaned forward and stuck my head between them so I could see out of the windshield more clearly. Now that I was interested, there was nothing they could do to stop me. Another text from Presley buzzed in my pocket, and I ignored that one as well.

He pulled the car back onto the road and muttered, "Worth a shot."

When we pulled over again, it was dark outside and the woods looked terribly scary. In Miami, lights of the city kept the sky bright and the streets welcoming throughout the night. Here, with the early sunsets and nearly zero light pollution, we were stuck in an eternal horror movie. I jumped out of the car with help from McCall and started following them into the trees. "I swear if you guys murder me, my brother will kill you." They kept walking so I stayed in step. I didn't think that they would murder me, but I did think that I'd seen much more than they'd have wanted me to see. They would try to play this down and make me lose interest, but I would force myself to stay intrigued.

Up ahead, ambulance lights shined through the tree branches. Immediately, the boys crouched down as if they didn't want to be seen. I kept walking normally until Stiles yanked me down to their level by my sleeve and gave me a 'pay attention' look. As a unit, we moved closer to the scene until flattening out on the ground and watching from afar.

In the ambulance, there was a man strapped down onto a gurney. But instead of looking safe and on his way to the hospital, he was ripped open and covered in what looked like blood.

"Oh, God," I whispered.

This wasn't any normal 415, and by the frantic whispering between the boys, I could tell they were thinking the same thing. I'd seen enough cop television shows to somehow trick myself into believing this was all fake, but my subconscious kept reminding me of the cold hard truth. This was real. I was staring at a dead body. And the two teenage boys next to me didn't seem too fazed.

They whispered to each other for a little longer, then McCall got up and started to creep away. Stiles stayed where he was and looked at me like I should do the same, but I couldn't help but reach out and latch onto McCall's ankle. He looked down at me and I tried to smile. "Hey, dude, do you have a first name?"

"What?" He asked, watching the ambulance to see if they could hear us.

"I mean I could keep calling you McCall in my head but a first name would definitely be easier." I let go of his leg and shrugged my shoulders as well as I could. "I guess I could understand you not telling me if your first name was something like Bernice, or Alfred."

He let out a huff of a laugh. "It's Scott. Scott McCall."

"Quinn Holmes," I responded, giving a quick thumbs up before turning back around and looking closer at the ambulance. I could hear Scott trudge off back into the woods. Sheriff Stilinski was taking a statement from the EMT. I wondered if he was the kind of man that went to every disturbance. "Don't you think you should go talk to your dad?" I asked quietly. Stiles looked at me like I was insane. I held up a hand. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just saying you ran away from him and went straight into the danger - least you could do was go apologize and try to give an explanation."
"Great idea!" He said with fake enthusiasm. "I'll just say that I snuck away from him to come see a dead body! He loves stuff like that!"

"Don't be rude," I pushed myself to my feet and brushed the dirt and leaves off of my shirt. "Just say you were giving me a tour of the town and we saw the lights. Sheriff Stilinski!" I called, walking out of the forest and towards the scene, where a forensic team was already cleaning up the massacre from the first ambulance. "What a coincidence!"

I pretended that I didn't hear Stiles and the Sheriff curse under their breaths - two different words, but both equally vulgar.

-

While Stiles got lectured by his father, I roamed around the empty road, stepping over the few blood splatters that I could see. A nice EMT ran over to me and handed me a shock blanket, explaining that anyone who saw the mess in the ambulance deserved to be shocked. I thanked him and wrapped it around my shoulders before glancing over into the woods where movement caught my eye. I looked at the ground as two pale, dirty feet came into view. I followed the feet up and gasped when I caught sight of the face.

It looked like a disheveled Lydia Martin. Completely naked. Sure enough, behind me I could hear Stiles ask, "Lydia?"

No response. "Lydia?" No response. "Lydia!" And finally, she looked at us like she recognized what was going on. I moved without thinking and ripped the shock blanket off of my shoulders before jogging closer to her shivering body and handing it to her.

"Nice to meet you, Lydia. I'm Quinn." I tried for a smile and failed. She wasn't looking at me anyway. Just right over my shoulder. To keep myself occupied, I helped her wrap the shock blanket around her body, attempting to help her with her modesty.

Once I finished, I followed her gaze back towards the bloody ambulance and saw Stiles sprawled on the ground and the Sheriff making his way over. He looked at me and nodded over at his son. "I think it's time you two get going."

My phone lit up in my pocket, shining through the thin fabric of my jeans, announcing that I'd received a text - most likely from Presley. Without thinking, I nodded. This had been enough excitement for one night.

-

Stiles drove me home in complete silence. I stayed quiet too. At first he'd been elated to find Lydia, but the closer we got to his car, the softer his voice got. Eventually it cut out completely, the silence only interrupted when I gave directions to get to my house. I could tell that he was busy thinking, but I didn't have the guts to ask what about.

"Take the next right," I said, pointing at the road sign that read Yorkshire Rd., "It's the third house on the left."

He followed my instructions and the house came into view. Usually, when it was late at night and everyone had gone to sleep, the porch light was turned off. As Stiles pulled into the driveway behind Sarah's police cruiser, I could see that the light was still on, meaning someone was still up. It was hard not to sigh, thinking about my mother waiting for me by the front door. I was about to get lectured, there was no question, but then I remembered a crucial part of the excuse I sent Presley earlier.

The headlights shined on the house's exterior, impossible to ignore. There was no way I was going to be able to sneak in through the garage. "Hey, Stiles?" He looked at me. "Can I use one of your notebooks please? I sort of lied and said that I was going back to the school for something, but I don't have anything to prove it."

"Oh, okay." He reached into the backseat and grabbed his backpack, rifling around before settling on a red notebook with Chemistry written on the front.

I grabbed it and sent him a smile. "Thanks." My feet hit the ground and I turned on my heel. "Sorry about sneaking into your car, I promise I won't do it again." He nodded his head but didn't saying anything. I felt bad leaving someone without something to laugh at. I looked at his shirt - the silhouette of a stripper was visible, and the words I Support Single Moms lined across the top. "You're shirt is severely sexist."

And that got a laugh.

The walk up to the front door was daunting, but without the extra illumination of the Jeep's headlights, it was downright scary. I sent a prayer to the sky that it was just Presley who waited up. He was such a good liar, I dreamed that he somehow got both Mom and Sarah to go upstairs without thinking much of me. Maybe having a twin finally came in handy. I let that thought carry me to the front door.

"Where the hell have you been?" My gut fell as I looked across the foyer towards my mother. All hope vanished from my mind. Presley was a traitor. Mom was fuming, standing at the foot of the steps in her pajamas and a fluffy robe. This could have been funny if she wasn't looking at me like she was going to kill me.

"I had to get something from school," I tried to explain, lifting up the notebook that Stiles had just leant me. "I got sidetracked - "

She snatched the notebook and pointed her finger in my face. Her brown hair was wild, and I couldn't tell if it came from a hard day at work or worrying about me. "If you ever, ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll have you arrested for - for - well, I don't know yet, but I'll have it done, Quinn." She dropped the bad guy act and for a second I could see normal Mom coming through. The same Mom that had been my best friend for nearly my entire life. "Who was that boy that dropped you off?"

A long time ago, Mom had given me the lowdown on what being a single mother was like. She had to be the bad guy that yelled when she was angry and the good guy that wanted to gossip with her daughter all at the same time. I hadn't understood what she was talking about. Now, I was starting to get the idea.

"A friend," I explained quickly. She gave me a knowing look but I squashed it down. "He's the Sheriff's son, Mom, it's not like that. He saw me walking home and asked if I needed a ride. I didn't think it would be an issue."

She clicked her tongue and handed me the notebook unwillingly. "Go upstairs. Tomorrow, I'm making sure Presley stays around you at all times." I opened my mouth to protest, but she kept going. "Sarah got a call while she was out looking for you - some man had been mauled in the back of an ambulance. You realize that you were walking around unprotected while some crazy wild animal was out killing people, right?"

"Sarah was looking for me?"

She scoffed like I wasn't getting the point. "I had all of us out looking for you! You can say whatever you want, but you can't look me in the eye and tell me you were at the school. That was the first place I looked for you." Her voice faltered and she shook her head. "Look, I realize that I'm not always there when you need me, but I try my best. Now go to bed, we're all tired."