VII. | the truth

                    I DIDN'T GO to school the next day, opting to play the victim card and stay home to do nothing. Presley came home early in the morning from the hospital, with the diagnosis of a minor hip strain. He wouldn't be able to play lacrosse for a few days, but he would recover fully with no problem. I'd decided not to tell him what I'd witnessed last night, partly because I didn't really have the full story myself, but mostly because he was already stressed enough with trying to cement a position on the lacrosse team while parenting me at the same time.

After he left for school, Sarah rushed into the station to make up the work she'd missed last night after taking me home and Mom went to the hospital to start her unusually long shift. She hadn't been happy last night when Sarah called her, explaining the situation at the station, and I'd basically forced her out of the front door because she would have stayed home with me in a heartbeat. Now, it was just me and daytime soaps.

The television played softly in the background as I napped on the couch. I'd finished my homework earlier in the day, and sent my teachers emails explaining my absence. Harris was the only one that responded with work and not a pity message. I got most of the work done, but by the time mid afternoon rolled around, I had such a headache that I was forced to stop memorizing chemistry formulas and lay down.

As I rested, my mind wandered. Stiles didn't have my number so I hadn't received any explanation of last night. While busy with homework, I hadn't spent much time daydreaming, but now, with Days of Our Lives playing in the background, I allowed myself to start theorizing.

After I'd gotten home last night, I'd spent the majority of sleep fighting off werewolves in my dreams, but now, the memories of yesterday were almost too clear.

I wanted to go to the police station to snoop around and figure more things out, but all I could do was sit and wonder where Handsome Man had taken Isaac Lahey. True to my word, I hadn't answered any of Sarah's questions on the way home from the station per Stiles's request, but in response, she didn't answer any of mine. I was truly in the dark. And I hated it.

On the coffee table in front of the couch, my phone pinged. I unsheathed my hand from under my blanket and grabbed it, quickly reading the message from Presley. I'm having lunch with some guys from the team - hope you're feeling better! It read.

I didn't respond, opting to drop the phone on the table where it would stay until Mom sent me another message asking about my day. On the television, someone was yelling about something. I turned my attention to the screen long enough to see a woman slap a man across the face before my eyes skipped to the window above the tv set, catching sight of a familiar powder blue Jeep pulling into the driveway. Without thinking, I perked up, excited that Presley had skipped out on plans with the lacrosse team to hang out with me.

After fighting my way out of the blanket around me, I straightened out my pajama shorts and tee shirt before heading to the front door. I opened the door with a grin on my face when Presley's shadow filled the stained glass and opened my mouth to tell him how boring playing hooky was when he wasn't there with me.

"You would not believe the day I've had," I started, rolling my eyes for added effect, "If I get another text from Mom asking if I've had a mental breakdown, I think I might just - " the sentence died in my throat and I coughed out a quick, "Huh," when I realized that it wasn't Presley standing on the doorstep.

In response to my surprised expression, Stiles Stilinski pushed my shoulder so he could walk into the house. Without thinking, I closed the door behind him and crossed my arms over my chest, now very aware that I wasn't wearing a bra. We stood in a tense silence before he opened his mouth and said, "Okay, so I can explain."

-

I handed Stiles a can of Diet Coke before shuffling to the opposite side of the dining room table and sitting so I could see his face. He was twitchy - moving his knee at a rapid staccato and tapping his thumb on the wooden surface in front of him. I was silent, gathering the thoughts inside my head to make a coherent sentence.

"So ... " I started uneasily, "You mean to tell me that werewolves are real?"

The idea seemed so crazy, so absurd, that I wanted to laugh it off as a joke. But Stiles was deadly silent when he nodded his head in agreement, cementing the theory as fact. I could only push a heavy breath through my teeth. Internally, I'd already accepted it. There weren't many explanations for last night, and I was glad that Stiles hadn't tried to give me a crappy excuse. Still, I could feel the beginnings of a headache forming right behind my eyes.

I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but the front door unlocked and clicked open, revealing my mother in her work scrubs. She started rambling on about her day while slipping off her work shoes by the door. She didn't notice Stiles at the dining room table with me until after she'd dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

"Oh!" She gasped, placing a hand on her chest. "I didn't know you had friends over, sweetheart." She held out a hand to shake. "I'm Rose."

"Hi," Stiles said, shaking her hand before looking at me as if he was expecting something.

"Mom," I said, grabbing her attention, "This is Stiles Stilinski. He stopped by to help me on some chemistry work I missed today." I moved out of my seat and flicked my head in Stiles's direction while Mom looked at the table in front of us to see the absence of any homework. "He was just leaving."

Stiles widened his eyes and looked over at me, then caught on. "Oh," he sputtered, moving out of his seat to follow me to the front door, "Right."

I chose to ignore the smirk Mom sent my way as she collected the Diet Coke cans on the table. I knew I'd be getting a talk when I came back inside, so I took my time in closing the door behind myself and Stiles before turning to talk to him.

"Sorry," I said, "I didn't know she'd be coming home so early."

"It's okay." He stood on the front lawn, twirling his car key across his fingers. Across the street, my neighbor - a woman that looked as old as time itself - waved at us. Stiles raised a hand in greeting, then sighed. "You know you can't tell anyone what I told you."

A laugh bubbled up in my chest before I could stop it. "Like they'd believe me."

"Yeah," Stiles said, "But still."

I nodded my head affirmatively. "Alright, got it. I won't tell anyone that we're living in a 1950s horror movie." Then I asked, "Can you run through it again - just one more time?"

The full story had taken over a half hour to tell, so Stiles gave me the summarized version, keeping his voice low just incase anyone could hear. Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, and Derek Hale (previously known as Handsome Man) were all werewolves. Allison Argent (the girl with dark hair that Presley and I saw at the funeral and in the woods) came from a family of vicious hunters, who'd stop at nothing until all of the werewolves in Beacon Hills were dead. Except Allison was good, and she was dating Scott, and the two kept the relationship a secret so Allison's father wouldn't kill Scott.

"And what do you do?" I'd asked Stiles when he'd told me the full story.

He'd shrugged his shoulders. "I do all of the most important stuff - paperwork and such."

It was just a joke, but as I waved Stiles off from the front porch, I wished there was some werewolf paperwork I could do, just to keep myself busy. More importantly, I wished I hadn't been in the police station last night, because after getting my ear talked off by Mom (who practically begged me to invite Stiles over for dinner), I almost didn't make it to the bathroom where I dry heaved until my panic lessened.

I could keep a secret, yeah. But that didn't mean my internal turmoil wasn't going to try its best to kill me.

-

The next morning at school went by smoothly. I didn't talk much with Stiles or Scott in chemistry, but I shared a lab bench with Danny again, and decided that being his friend wouldn't be too hard. He was nice, already teammates with Presley, and I didn't think he knew anything about the supernatural aspects of Beacon Hills, which made him my first normal friend.

Unlike the last few days, nothing major happened during lessons. I got a call from Presley during a class change, where he told me about a girl collapsing during PE, but I was too busy trying to remember where the library was for study hall, that I didn't even catch him telling me that Scott McCall was the one to help the girl most.

When I sat down in the library, I silently wondered who the girl was.