Prelude

Chapter 10: Bad Girl, Bad Girl, Whatcha Gonna Do

Scott was playing goal and he regretted it immediately when Guinevere got a little bit too excited about playing soccer and she kicked the ball a little bit too hard and Scott caught it an inch before it hit him in the face. 

"Yeah!" Stiles yelled as Isaac whooped. 

"Hit him in the face!" Isaac screamed his input. 

"Sorry!" She called, looking very apologetic as she bounced on her toes lightly, full of jittery energy. Coach Linda was laughing. 

"It's alright!" Scott called as he tossed the ball back to her. 

"That was good. Try it again but calm down. It's just a normal try out, nothing big, okay?" Coach Linda told Guinevere as she lined the ball up again. Guinevere nodded and shook out her arms and legs before pausing briefly. She kicked the ball again and it went soaring into the net past Scott who made an entirely human attempt at catching it. "There we go." Coach Linda clapped. "That's what I'm talking about. Again." Guinevere smiled as she caught the ball Scott threw back. She lined it up and did three more kicks before they did different drills that Scott ran with her so she could show her defense and offense skills. By the time they finished for the night, Guinevere was sweating like a pig but had a huge grin on her face as she downed most of her water bottle. "Well, I think you would be a perfect addition to the team, Guinevere. Practices start tomorrow after school, we're sharing the field with the lacrosse boys." 

"Guilty as charged." Scott, Isaac and Stiles all said at once. 

"Thank you so much." Guinevere managed as she continued trying to catch her breath. Coach Linda smiled before saying her good byes and heading off of the field, leaving Guinevere with the three boys. 

"You need a ride?" Stiles asked. 

"Nah. I have my car still. Thank you for your help tonight, and all the cheering." She included as she smiled at Stiles and Isaac. 

"No problem."

"Anytime." They all nodded as she grabbed her phone and jacket. 

"Shoot, I'm late for dinner. Thanks a zillion." She said again, smiling as she pressed a hurried kiss to Scott's cheek and let her hand drag across Stiles and Isaac's chests while she jogged off the field. The trio watched her go, waiting till she hit the parking lot to speak. 

"Station?" Stiles asked. 

"Station." Isaac confirmed, nodding and following Scott and Stiles off of the field. Isaac rode along with Stiles as Scott rode his bike, all ending up at the Sheriff's station and jogging inside to bother Parrish. 

"Jordan," Stiles said brightly, making the deputy look at him with dread. "We need to look at someone's record. Well, see if they have one first of all." 

"You know I can't do that without probable cause, Stiles."

"It's Guinevere Hilt." Scott spoke up, making Jordan's gaze flick to him. He hesitated before he spun around in his chair and began typing, the three teens crowding in behind him to look over his shoulder. 

"Any of you see the Sheriff, scatter." Jordan said as he typed in her name to the system. 

"That's been the plan for years." Stiles said as a tab popped up. "She has a file." 

"Open it." Scott gave the go ahead. 

"It's just her basic information and some sealed records."

"So unseal them." 

"I legally can't." Jordan said, refusing to go any further. If the records had been opened, it would have been a different story. 

"What's the date on the file?" 

"Four years ago."

"She was in Washington." Isaac said, straightening up. 

"What are you four doing?" The Sheriff asked, making all three boys scatter and pretend like they weren't looking at illegal files. Jordan closed out of the tab and opened the report he had been working on. 

"Just stopping to say hi." Stiles said, trying to play it off. "So hey." He paused awkwardly. "Alright, bye." He started towards the door, Isaac and Scott following on his heels. 

"Do I want to know?" The Sheriff asked Parrish as he turned back to his deputy. 

"This time, it's not my place to tell." Jordan answered. 

"Figures." The Sheriff sighed. The three teenagers regrouped in the parking lot. 

"Can you open the files from your home computer?" Scott asked.

"Technically yes but my dad got one of their techs to set up a system where it notifies them every time I open something I shouldn't be opening." 

"Which means we can't do anything." Scott clarified. 

"Unless she gets arrested, we can't see what the sealed files are." Stiles confirmed. They stood in silence for a little bit. 

"Are you guys thinking about setting her up too?" Isaac asked. 

"We're not setting her up." Scott said. 

"I'll do some Internet searches and see what I can find that way."

"Call me if you find anything. You riding back with me, Isaac?" Scott asked as he climbed back onto his bike.

"Yeah." Isaac climbed on too and then they were all scattering again. Stiles spent the night parked at his desk, drinking Monster like it was his sole life source and devouring three apples and a handful of peanuts for his dinner as he looked for anything on what Guinevere possibly could have been arrested for at the age of fourteen. 

"I'm not about to have bodies showing up in my town, am I?" His dad asked when he got home and knocked on Stiles' door.

"No. We seem to be on a supernatural hiatus. Having said that, we'll probably be infested with monsters in a few hours." 

"Good to know." Stiles nodded as his dad looked towards his own bedroom. "Have you eaten dinner?"

"Yeah." 

"And the honest answer?" 

"I had three apples and some peanuts."

"Works for me." His dad tapped the door frame once more before heading to his room. "Don't stay up too late!"

"I won't!" Stiles stayed up until two a.m. looking for anything on Guinevere's life in Washington. He found a couple of her mom's articles and found them rather fascinating and actually kind of brilliant. He dug up an old newspaper article about her dad when he was a Chicago cop and then an article on a shooting he was involved in where his nephew died. He managed to find an article from the private school Guinevere went to where she was mentioned by name as one of the outstanding students who won a writing contest. By the time he went to bed at two thirteen, he had several unread articles still opened on his computer.