XI. | the plan

                     PRESLEY WOULDN'T DRIVE me to school the next morning. He waited until I was ready to leave, then said he wasn't taking me. His calm disposition was better than the night before, where he'd followed me into my room, slammed the door behind us, and told me how much I was hurting Mom by claiming my want to talk to Dad. I was lucky enough to have Sarah on my side. She dropped me off in her cruiser before heading to the station.

Before she could leave, I asked, "Where was Mom this morning?" I hung through the cruiser's passenger window, savoring the air conditioning within.

"She went to work early," Sarah said, catching the look in my eyes. She could see the uneasiness in them. "Listen, I don't know everything about you guys yet, but from what Rose told me, none of you are very keen on seeing your father." She was quiet before asking, "What changed your mind?"

I was sick of hearing the worry in everyone's voice when they spoke to me. Presley had been cruel, but he was still worried about me. Mom was the same. I sucked air in through my teeth. I made my bed, and no matter how much I wish I hadn't, I was going to lay in it.

"I haven't seen him since I was little. I want to see what he's been up to."

It wouldn't have been a god excuse for Presley or Mom, but Sarah nodded her head as if she understood. I was thankful she accepted my answer, because the warning bell rang out across the school campus, letting me know I didn't have long until I was tardy to chemistry. I bid Sarah a quick goodbye, then made my way through the hallways of Beacon Hills High. It was the first time I'd entered the school alone, and I was finally able to truly see how many kids went to the school. I got to Harris's class just a the bell rang, ignoring the glare he sent me as I made my way to my seat next to Danny.

"Hey," he said, leaning over to talk to me while Harris went through the homework. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"

I stared at him before remembering what day it was. Tuesdays were lacrosse days, and the first game since the move was tonight. I remembered Presley telling me about it over dinner a few nights ago. Thinking about Presley made me wince, and I opened my mouth to answer Danny, who was smiling at me and pretending to listen to Harris.

"Maybe," I began, "I don't really know. Pres and I got into a fight last night - he might not want me there."

"Oh," Danny said, shrugging his shoulders, "It's okay if you can't. I know the team would like you to be there, though."

"The team? Why?"

Danny looked at me as if I were insane. "New player moves to town, somehow gets first line even with a hip injury, and has a hot sister our age? Half of the team's, like, obsessed with you." I wrinkled my nose and he said, "Well, not obsessed, but they still like you."

That made me laugh. Before Harris heard our conversation, I nodded my head. "I'll think about it, sure. No promises."

-

I was sitting in the library during lunch when Stiles and Scott found me. I was reading an article on my phone about the Lahey murder, but by the time they reached my table, I'd stashed the phone away in my jacket pocket. They didn't wait before sitting down across from me, nothing but seriousness on their faces.

"Can I help you?" I asked them warily, not liking the way they were glancing at each other. Faintly, I remembered that Presley didn't want me hanging out with them anymore. The idea had seemed absurd before, but now I could see the craziness in the friendship I shared with them. Sitting across from me was a werewolf and his best friend.

Stiles was the one that started speaking - so fast that I had to really pay attention to keep up. "So, just to keep you up to date, there's this thing running around town - scales, claws, tons of teeth, and a tail. It attacks people and has this venom that paralyzes them from the neck down. Scott's boss says there's a book that we need to find that can tell us more about it. We need you to help us get the book."

My mouth ran dry the minute Stiles described the new addition to the monster family. "What?" I asked him, looking at Scott for clarification. I might have been closer to Stiles, but he was far too manic for me to follow.

"Stiles saw it last night." He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one could hear us. Pleased to see no one in our vicinity, Scott leaned in closer to me. "Without this book, we can't figure anything out about it. Mr. Argent should have a copy."

"Allison's dad?" I asked, summoning my short term memory to understand what I was hearing. I was still so new to this, but I could remember Stiles explaining this all to me nearly a week ago.

"No - her grandfather." Scott leaned impossibly closer, draping his body over the table between us. "He's the principal."

The image of an old frail man came to mind. I'd seen him at the funeral for Kate Argent, and again when he called Scott and Stiles into his office after we'd listened in on the conversation between Jackson and the Sheriff. I opened my mouth in understanding, a soft 'oh' spilling out. The more I spoke to the two, the more I figured out about the town. Everything was so connected, I almost didn't want to mess with it. Scott and Stiles seemed to think differently, staring at me until I was ready for them to continue.

"So what's this book thing?"

"A bestiary," Stiles explained. "Like an encyclopedia for all things supernatural."

I mulled that over. "And how exactly can I help?"

"Come to the game," Scott said. "Allison is getting the keys from her grandfather so we can get in to his office. You and Stiles are in charge of getting the book."

"My brother - " I began telling them about the fight Presley and I shared the night before, but the bell rang overhead, signaling the end of lunch. Scott and Stiles wasted no time before leaving me to my own thoughts. Presley wasn't a good enough excuse for helping them, so I sent Stiles a quick text telling him I was on board with the plan. He told me to meet him in the parking lot before the game started so we could go over our plan.

-

Ten minutes until seven, as the nightly chill of Beacon Hills began creeping through my body, Stiles jogged across the parking lot and stopped next to where I was standing under a light pole. His daytime clothes of a flannel and jeans had switched to a matching red tracksuit that glowed in the dimness of the light overhead. A bench warmer joke came to mind, but I kept my mouth shut - no need to hurt his feelings if it wasn't necessary.

"How's it looking?" I asked, nodding my head over to the field where I could hear the teams warming up.

Stiles shrugged like he didn't care about the game. "There's this player on the other side who looks like he's made of steroids, so that's not great."

"Steroids or something else?"

"Quinn, you can't assume everyone's a ... werewolf." Stiles was careful before spewing out the word. "It makes you sound crazy."

I leaned in and snapped at him. "Well, can you blame me?"

He chewed on his words before shaking his head. "No," he said, "I guess it's a pretty common default to assume."

"So what's our plan?"

He was back in business mode. "Allison gets the keys, we go find the book, we make it out before he notices something missing."

I nodded my head in understanding, but didn't follow Stiles when he started making his way back to the field. He turned to look at me and I saw the question in his eyes. "Presley and I got into a fight. I think he'd do better without me there." I picked at the hem of my tee shirt and looked across the parking lot where I could see the outline of Sarah and my mother making their way to the bleachers. I ducked my head so they couldn't see me.

Stiles followed my line of sight. "You're not talking to any of them?"

"Trying not to," I answered, straightening my back when Sarah and Mom where out of sight. "It's nothing, really. I'll meet you at Argent's office, okay? Just get the keys."

From the wary look Stiles sent me, I wasn't sure that he would do anything I was asking of him. In his eyes, I could see him working through the plan over agin, making sure me not being in the bleachers wouldn't be a problem. When he was satisfied with the plan, he nodded.

"Fine," he said, "Text me if anything happens."

When the game finally started, I buttoned up my jacket around myself. My breath was puffing in the air around my face. The night air cooled considerably, leaving my teeth chattering and my nose running. I waited for the last straggling spectators to find their way out of the parking lot before turning on my heel and making my way to the school. My sneakers scuffed the asphalt of the road as I skipped across a curb to lower the time it would take me to get to Argent's office. I was impatient to get into the school, because even though they didn't have the heating on at night, the walls would protect me from the wind chill.

As I slipped in through an unlocked entrance, I couldn't help but wonder if Beacon Hills had reliable security. My shoes clicked on the linoleum as I turned corner after corner, making my way to the main office. It was eerily quiet in the school, so I made sure to not waste any of my time. Just as I began my journey through the science hallway, a hand darted out of a janitors closet and wrapped around my throat before yanking me into the enclosed space.

I gasped, not able to see my assailant in the pitch darkness of the supply closet, and not able to breathe around their closed fist. Someone's body - muscled and heavy - was pushing me into a shelf stocked with cleaning supplies. I could smell the chemically balance of bleach and Windex. Blindly, I clawed at the hand around my neck, drooping against the shelf behind me when I was released, only to cough and struggle for breath.

"I need your help."

The door to the closet opened, and the same hand that was choking me only a few seconds ago grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the hallway. I stumbled before catching my footing and allowing myself to be led in the opposite direction of the front office. I didn't want to put up a fight when I didn't know who my attacker was.

When I was able to speak around the choked breath in my throat, I looked up at the person in front of me, not able to see anything other than a dark head of hair. "What do you mean you need my help?"

My attacker answered, and his voice was so familiar that it made the hair on my neck stand up straight. "We're waiting on Stiles. I'll tell you when he's here."

We made a few corners before stopping at the school pool, where I ripped my arm out of the grasp of my attacker to put some distance between us. He blocked the exit while I stumbled over to the edge of the pool, cradling my wrist in my other hand. We stood silent for a few seconds before I could place the man's face. He was tall, rugged, undeniably handsome. I wasn't too shocked when I realized it was Derek Hale standing in front of me.

"What is your problem?" I asked without realizing. My wrist throbbed and my throat was weak. I had to think of a way to hide the bruises that would undoubtedly appear overnight in both areas. "You know, concealer isn't cheap."

For some reason, even though I knew Derek was dangerous, I wasn't scared mouthing off at him. I knew Scott was close enough, that if I yelled for his help, he'd hear me and come to my rescue. Derek seemed to know the same thing, because he clenched his jaw in agitation, but didn't threaten me. We stood in tense silence until I got the courage to speak again. I knew I was safe for the time being, but I wasn't too keen on annoying Derek more than I had to.

"What's this about?" I asked defiantly, perched dangerously on the edge of the diving pool. Derek rolled his eyes, obviously not taking me seriously. I didn't blame him - from his point of view I probably looked weak. I didn't admit it, but I felt weak in his demanding presence. I skittered around the pool edge and grabbed an abandoned basketball from the slick tiled ground. I didn't know what it was doing here, but it was something solid to put between myself and the alpha in front of me.

Before Derek could speak - to answer me or threaten me - the pool door opened, revealing Erica, who had a tight grip on Stiles's ear. They walked in, Stiles in obvious pain, and Erica dragging him along with a smirk on her face. While watching them, I hadn't noticed Derek get closer to me - I only realized when he snatched the basketball out of my hands.

Erica let Stiles loose then twirled on her heel so she was facing him, flanking Derek. I ignored the look the wolves sent my way, and rushed over to Stiles, grabbing hold of his red track jacket sleeve. "This was a stupid plan," I said under my breath.

Not hearing my quip, or not caring enough to wonder, Derek rolled the basketball in his hands and said, "Stiles, what did you see at the mechanic's garage?"

I wasn't up to date with the story, so my attention turned to Stiles. I'd been at the mechanic's garage before Presley had picked me up, but I was positive that I wasn't important to the story. My mind thought back to lunch, where Stiles and Scott had given my the lowdown on Beacon Hills's newest midnight creature. I assumed it had something to do with that. Still, I gave myself a mental note to ask Stiles for more information regarding the incident.

"Uh," Stiles began, straightening his back to seem taller, "Several alarming EPA violations that I'm seriously considering reporting." Erica laughed, but it was menacing, causing me to shrink behind Stiles. Derek wasn't amused whatsoever, easily popping the basketball he had in his hands - to show strength or to remain calm, I couldn't tell. Stiles muttered under his breath, "Holy god," but it echoed in the empty pool space, bouncing off walls and letting the wolves know just how scared we both were.

"Let's try that again," Derek said.

I felt Stiles sigh through my hand on his shoulder. "Alright," he obliged, "The thing was pretty slick looking. Skin was dark, kind of patterned," he took multiple breaks between words to think about what he was going to say next. My eyes stayed trained on Erica, who seemed to be the most out of control in the room. I wouldn't have been surprised if she leaned forward to snap off my fingers with her teeth. "I think I actually saw scales," Stiles continued, "Is that enough?"

My attention was still trained on Erica, who's once smug smirk had morphed into a confused gaze. Her eyes were not on Stiles or myself anymore, now right above our heads.

Derek remained silent, so Stiles groaned, "Alright, fine! Eyes were yellowish, and slitted. Uh, it has a lot of teeth. Oh! And a tail, too. Are we good?" He watched the wolves as closely as I did, catching when Derek's gaze followed Erica's. Their eyes both had the same confused glint in them. Stiles easily got annoyed with them. "What?" He snapped, "Have you seen it? You've got this look on your faces like you know exactly what I'm talking about."

From behind us, I heard a long quiet hiss, filling my blood with ice. I froze, taking in Erica's horrified stare, trained right above my head. Slowly, I turned too, staring up and meeting the bright yellow eyes of my next worst nightmare. Stiles did the same as me, jumping into action before I even had the chance to breath. He grabbed my jacket and yanked my back behind Derek and Erica, where we'd supposedly stay safe.

The monster jumped down, landing a mere five feet away from us. Its tail lashed out, wrapping itself protectively around the body. Derek and Erica changed, faces sprouting hair and claws growing from their fingertips. It wasn't the first time I'd seen the change, but it was just as shocking as it had been when I'd been trapped in the police station. I pushed myself impossibly close to Stiles, well aware that if the monster got close enough to attack us, he's be no protection.

I steeled myself for the incoming fight.